The Guns of Europe

"It's our guns on the right that are in the most danger," said John.

"Correct," said Wharton. "The Uhlans are trying to cut them off, because those guns are doing great damage. Take the glasses again, and you can see their shells tearing through the German lines."

"I don't know that I want to see."

"Oh, look! This is war, and you'll have to get used to it!"

Then John looked and he saw that the German lines were not unbroken, as they had seemed to the naked eye. The shrapnel were tearing through them, making great holes, but the massive German columns never faltered for an instant. The gaps in their ranks were filled up, and they came on at an even pace, resolved to capture or destroy the French force. And they carried with them the memories of Gravelotte, Sedan and Metz. They would do as well as the men of old von Moltke had done.

John felt a thrill of admiration. The great military monarchy had built its machine well. It seemed at the moment resistless. It was made of steel rather than human flesh and blood, and it would roll over everything. Nothing had yet stopped that mighty concave curve of gray, although more and more French cannon were coming into action, and from right to left, and from left to right, they showered it with unceasing death.

But the German artillery, far more numerous and powerful than the French, were supporting their infantry. Shells were poured fast upon the hasty earthworks. Hundreds and hundreds of the defenders fell. The roar was now so stupendous that John could scarcely hear, and the air, before golden in the sunshine, turned a livid fiery hue.

All the Strangers were now formed in one of the trenches, and then wisely knelt low. John heard the shrieking, whining noise incessantly over his head, and it made his blood run cold. Instinctively he pressed hard against the side of his trench, but his curiosity was so keen that from time to time he raised his head above the edge to see how the battle fared directly in front. The gray Germans were much nearer, marching with the solid tread that seemed able to carry them across the world, while their gigantic artillery on the flanks and in the intervals flamed and roared without ceasing.

John knew that the loss among the French must be great, and he knew, too, that when the huge machine struck them they would be shattered. He wondered that the French leader did not order the retreat, but while he was wondering a trumpet suddenly sounded a shrill clear note audible amid the roar of the great guns, and he saw Captain Colton beckon to the Strangers.

John knew they were going into battle, but he felt relief because their long waiting was over. His senses had become dulled to danger. He felt the surge and sweep of tremendous conflict, and relief came with action.

As they stood up he obtained a better view of the field. The Germans were yet nearer now, and, seen through the blazing light of the cannon, they were magnified and increased. Although yet too distant in the center, the flanks were near enough to open fire with the rifles, and their crash in scores of thousands was added to the tremendous roar of the cannon fire.

Captain Colton beckoned again to the Strangers, and joining a heavy infantry force they crept out toward the right, and then among the trees. John divined at once their mission. They were to support and save the French field batteries which had gone into the wood and which had done so much damage to the German army.

They could not mistake their destination. The flash and crash came from a point directly in front of them, and the whole forest was lighted up by the blaze of the guns. Farther to their right John heard the heavy tramp of horsemen in thousands. There he knew were the Uhlans, circling to cut off the French guns.

The wood opened out, leaving wide clear spaces, and then John saw the countless helmets of the Uhlans, as they charged with a deep-throated German roar. It seemed that they were to be ridden into the earth, but he found himself kneeling with the others and firing his rifle as fast as he could pull trigger into the charging mass.

John felt like a man sending bullet after bullet into some huge wild beast, seeking to devour. For the moment the Uhlans were blended into one mass, a single entity. He had a vision of the wild faces of men, of the huge red eyes of horse, and of their open slavering mouths, disclosing rows of cruel white teeth. It was those white teeth that he saw clearest, and often he fired at the horses rather than their riders.

Nearer came the Uhlans. The earth resounded with their tread. The cruel white teeth of the horses flashed almost in John's face. He began to have a horrible fear that they could not stop these ruthless horsemen, but the French relieving force had brought with it light guns, which were now pushed up, opening almost point blank on the Uhlans.

The hail of steel drove directly in the faces of horses and men, and they reeled back. Men might stand such a fire, but horses could not. They bolted from it by hundreds, knocked down and trampled upon one another, creating a vast turmoil and confusion among the Germans.

John was conscious that he had sprung to his feet, and was advancing again with his comrades directly upon the Uhlans. They were still reloading and firing as fast as they could, and the light artillery, between the spaces, was cutting a perfect harvest of death. As the Uhlans were driven back out of the open and among the trees their difficulties increased. It was impossible to fall into any kind of formation and charge such a formidable infantry defended by guns.

The riflemen pressed closer and closer and poured upon them such a deadly fire that after many vain efforts to hold their ground the trumpets sounded the recall, and all those who were able to ride retreated.

The French set up a tremendous cheer and swept forward to meet their field guns which were slowly retiring, sending heavy volleys into the German masses as they withdrew. Yet their escape was a narrow one. Without the sortie from the fort they would certainly have been cut off by the Uhlans.

John found himself shouting in triumph with the French. He shared their feelings now because their danger had been his danger, and he was fast becoming the same in spirit.

"Just in time!" shouted Wharton in his ear. "See how the Germans come on, and come without ending!"

The great German mass in the open was now almost abreast of them. Their numbers seemed endless. Their huge cannon filled the air with projectiles which poured upon the French earthworks, and, captive balloons and aeroplanes hanging over them, directed their fire. The sight, magnificent in some aspects, was terrible nevertheless, and for a moment or two John was appalled.

"We've got to get back quick as we can," shouted Carstairs, "or they'll be on us, too!"

"Right! old man!" shouted Wharton, agreeing with him for once.

They were already retiring, and the field artillery was going with them. But the deadly seventy-five millimeter guns were not idle, although they were withdrawing. They sent shell after shell, which hung low over the German ranks, and then burst in a whirlwind of steel fragments and splinters. Death was showered upon the gray masses, but they never flinched, coming on steadily, with the deep German cheer, swelling now and then into thunder.

The battle was so near that the Strangers could no longer hear one another, although they shouted. Their company luckily had suffered little, but now the bullets began to search their ranks, and brave young Americans and brave young Englishmen gave up their lives under an alien flag.

John was conscious of neither elation nor despair. The excitement was too great. His heart hammered heavily against its walls, and the red mist before him deepened until it became a blazing glare. Then the rush of hoofs came again. The Uhlans had reformed and made a second charge. The riflemen beat it off, and, still protecting the guns, joined the main French force.

But it was evident there that the French must retreat again. The powerful artillery of the Germans had cut their defenses to pieces. The earth was torn by the great shells as if mining machinery had been at work, and the ground was covered with dead and wounded. Valor against numbers and long preparation was unavailing.

"If we don't go we're lost," shouted Carstairs.

"And if we go today we can come back and fight another day!" said Wharton.

The French leader gathered together his army, beaten for a second time, and slowly retired across the hills. The French character here showed itself entirely different from what popular belief had made it. John saw no signs of panic. The battered brigades closed up and withdrew, turning a steady and resolute face to the enemy. Their deadly artillery continually swept the front of the advancing Germans, and at intervals their riflemen sent back withering volleys.

John's excitement did not abate. Again he loaded and fired his rifle, until its barrel grew hot in his hand. The tumult was fierce and deafening beyond all description. He shouted to his comrades and his comrades shouted to him, but none could hear the sound of a human voice. The roar of the explosions was mingled without ceasing with the whining and shrieking of shrapnel and bullets.

Yet the retreating army defeated every attempt to close with it. The rifles and cannon mowed down the flankers to both right and left, and their powerful guns drove the pursuing center to a respectful distance. Toward night they came to a higher range of hills spreading to such a distance that they could not be flanked, and, turning there, they sat down, and waited, confident of their position.

CHAPTER IX

THE RIDE OF THREE

The battle, including the fighting retreat, had lasted a long time and it had proved even to inexperienced John that the French force could not stand before the superior numbers of the Germans, and their tremendous equipment. And yet the French officers had shown much skill. They had inflicted great losses, they had drawn off all their artillery, and they had defeated every effort of their enemy to surround and destroy them.

John felt that not everything was lost as they sat down on the hills and began to fortify anew. There was no time for him to rest. He was only a private soldier, and, armed with a spade, he worked at a trench with all the strength and energy he could command. But his immediate friends of the Strangers were of no higher rank than himself and they were beside him engaged in the same task. "I'm only a new soldier," he said, "but it seems to me we did pretty well to get off with our army and our guns."

"So we did," said Carstairs. "I fancy the chief part of our occupation will be retreating until the British come up."

"There it goes," said Wharton. "Every Englishman has a fatal disease. You can never cure him of being an Englishman. If a million French and a hundred thousand English were to win a battle Carstairs would give all the credit of it to the hundred thousand English."

"I'd give it to 'em, because it belonged to 'em. Keep your fool Yankee head down, Wharton. Didn't you hear that shell whistle?"

"I heard it, and I heard a dozen others too," said John, who could not keep from shivering a little. "Why do they keep on bothering us, when we're now in too strong a position to be attacked, and the night too is at hand?"

"Oh, you'll get used to it," said Wharton. "They won't attack tonight, but they want to keep us disturbed, to create terror among us, and then we'll be easier, when they do come again."

"I don't hear the giant any more."

"You mean the forty-two centimeter. I fancy it's far in the rear. They have to have roads on which to drag it, and then, so they say, it has to be placed in a concrete bed before they can fire it."

"At any rate their fire is dying," said Carstairs, "and I'm jolly glad of it. I didn't get any sleep last night, and I want some tonight. I need it, after this back-breaking work."

Fortunately the trench was soon finished, and the long range firing ceased entirely. The night came on, hiding the two armies from each other, and fires sprang up in the French camp. Their light was ruddy and cheerful. Then came the glorious aroma of food, and, the Strangers called from their labors to the banquet, sat down and ate.

John had heard all his life what cooks the French were, but nothing that he had ever tasted before was like the food he ate and the coffee he drank that night. Incessant marching and fighting gave a savor that nothing else could impart.

While they still sat around the cooking fires they saw dim shapes in the heavens, and John, out of the depths of his experience, knew that they were the flying machines. Carstairs and Wharton saw him looking up.

"You may want to be there," said Wharton, "but I don't. I'd grow so giddy I'd jump right out of the machine. This sound and rolling earth suits me. I like its green grass, its rivers, its lakes and its mountains, and I don't want to go off, prospecting for other planets."