"A dozenwellnigh breathless Huns, with greasy uniform and battered equipment, struggling to dive into the cellar in which Ralph's Tank had become a "fixture," roused the crew to action.
The Germans, with their intimate local knowledge, expected to find a safe retreat, until, to their consternation, they were confronted by the blunt nose of the stranded landship and covered by two maxims that could be brought to bear upon them although unable to be trained over the pile of rubble that lay betwixt the Tank and the street.
"Hands up!" shouted Ralph.
The order was obeyed instantly.
"Ye vos Sachsen!" called out an imploring voice. "Mercy, Kamerad."
The statement was a false one, and Setley knew it.
"You are Prussians," he replied; "but we'll give you quarter. Keep your hands up. The first man who lowers his arms will be shot."
Keeping close to the bows of the landship the crowd of now terrified Huns obeyed the instructions. Throwing open the armoured door, Corporal Anderson and two others of the crew emerged from the Tank and deftly removed the prisoners side-arms and ammunition. This done, they stood by to warn any parties of British bombers who in the heat of the pursuit might hurl their devastating missiles into the cellar.
In the midst of his task Anderson spotted one man's hand stealthily approaching his pocket.
"Wot 'ave you got there, old sport?" enquired the corporal, gripping the Hun's wrist. "Search 'im, Smutty," he added, addressing one of the Tommies.
The private did so, and discovered a small automatic pistol.
"So that's the bloomin' game, eh?" enquired Ginger. "Let 'im go, Smutty. Now, look to yourself, Fritz. I'm a-goin' to dot you one."
The German evidently understood, and clenching his fists stood on his guard. The next instant he was flat on his back, contemplating the superb display of a galaxy of stars that danced before his fast-closing eyes.
"What's up, Ginger?" asked Alderhame, and, glancing keenly at one of the prisoners, suddenly lapsed into his unbreakable habit of quoting the bard:
"O world, thy slippery turns. Friends now fast swornUnseparable, shall within this hour,On a dissension of a doit, break outTo bitterest enmity."
To which the prisoner replied, in a faultless English accent:
"Alderhame! I little thought to see you here. Let me see: only three years and six months ago we were on the boards together inMuch Ado about Nothing."
"And now," added Alderhame, "we're producingMeasure for Measure."
"I hope it will beAll's Well that Ends Well," rejoined the German. "I'm properly fed up with this war, and will be glad to be out of it."
"You will be—in a prison camp in England," the sergeant assured him. "We'll see that you are sent under escort to the rear. Unless your own guns cop you there'll be nothing to fear. What made the crowd of you make a dive for this cellar?"
"I don't mind telling you now," he said, in a low voice. "There's a tunnel. That Tank has blocked up the entrance. It communicates with our reserve lines, and the whole place is heavily mined. I would advise you to clear out as soon as possible, for when our people have waited sufficiently long to enable our troops to withdraw—the few that are left, that is—the village will be blown to atoms."
Strong-nerved though he was, the ex-actor felt a cold shiver in the neighbourhood of his spine. The possibility of being in close proximity to a quantity of high explosive that would explode by the act of touching a key—and more than likely a Hun was at that very instant toying with the electric battery that would fire the charge—was enough to make any man blench.
With an effort he pulled himself together.
"All right," he said, addressing his former brother actor and present enemy. "I'll send you out under escort. Yes, the whole crowd of you, I mean."
Obtaining Second-Lieutenant Setley's permission, Alderhame despatched the prisoners under the charge of Corporal Anderson and two men. The moment they had gone Alderhame imparted the grave news to his superior officer.
"Send a man to warn the Divisional Officer of the troops holding the village," ordered Ralph. "We'll have to abandon the Tank, I fancy."
At an order the crew hurriedly prepared to leave the shelter of the stranded landship, but before they could do so a terrific concussion shook the already tottering walls of the cellar, and an avalanche of bricks from the upper part of the walls descended with a crash, completely cutting off their retreat.
"Pleasant," remarked Ralph. "With a mine somewhere under you and H.E. shells dropping overhead, and unable to get out of this hole, life is a bit exciting. No, Alderhame; no more Shakespeare, please. We'll try and find the tunnel to which your German acquaintance referred. By the by, who is he?"
"He was in the same Repertoire Company with me," replied the ex-actor. "It was in those dim and distant days before the war, yet I remember how we parted."
He paused reflectively. Setley looked at him enquiringly.
"Well?" he asked tentatively.
"It was just before Treasury—that is, the weekly pay-day. He borrowed a sovereign—maybe you recollect what that is, or was: a circular flat disc of shining gold, for which one had to display a certain amount of affection. He cleared out shortly afterwards, and I haven't seen that Jimmy o' Goblin since—and don't expect to. However, sir, he's done us a good turn warning us about the mine, though it were to save his own skin."
In the intense gloom the crew of the Tank sought for the entrance of the tunnel. Cautiously loosening brickwork and removing piles of rubble they at length found the object of their quest—a long, narrow, concreted passage that was originally intended for a communication between the vast subterranean rooms under the village.
"Be careful, sir," cautioned Sergeant Alderhame, as Ralph flashed his electric torch. "There might be some Huns lurking down here."
"Hardly," objected Setley. "It seemed to be common knowledge amongst the Prussians that the place is mined. They'll keep clear. The trouble is, I take it, to discover and disconnect the electric wires before they spring the whole show."
The subaltern and his men hastened down the passage. If ever there was a race against time this was. At eighty paces from the mouth further progress was barred by a formidable barrier of sand-bags—the "tamping" by which the main force of the explosion would be diverted from what would otherwise be the easiest path—an horizontal direction along the tunnel.
"We'll have to shift that lot," said Ralph encouragingly. "All hands together, lads."
It was a tough task, for five yards' thickness of sand-bags had to be removed before the mine chamber was reached. It was a nerve-racking task when the huge store of explosive stood revealed in the glare of an electric torch. At any moment the stuff might explode.
"It'll save the sanitary squad a job if it does," remarked one of the men grimly, "Anyway, it's a mighty quick death—none of that rotten hanging about."
Five minutes later more work resulted in the discovery of two insulated wires that met in a metal box containing the primer. With a sigh of relief Ralph severed the wires. Unless there were more sets the immediate danger was over.
All this time the place was trembling under the concussion of heavy shells overhead. Presently with remarkable suddenness the shelling ceased.
"What does it mean, I wonder?" thought Ralph. "It can't be that our fellows have been compelled to give ground. We must endeavour to get out of this hole and see what's doing."
Bidding the men bring a small quantity of the explosive with them, Setley retraced his way. During his absence more rubble had fallen, and the roof of the Tank was covered with a tightly jammed mass of broken bricks.
"Looks healthy, sir," commented Alderhame.
"Yes," agreed Ralph. "It seems as if we are to stop here until we are dug out, unless we can contrive to blow away this mass of rubble. Unfortunately, I am not expert in the art of the use of explosives."
"There's one of our fellows who used to be a quarryman," announced the sergeant. "I'll get him."
In answer to his call, a little sharp-featured Welshman stepped forward.
"Yes," he replied, in a shrill falsetto. "I have blasted stone for the last three years. I do not know what strength this stuff has, but we'll try."
Taking about seven pounds of the explosive the Welshman rammed it in a cavity in the wall of rubble, filled in the mouth with sand-bags brought from the mine gallery, and laid a fuse of cordite, obtained by opening half a dozen cartridges.
"All ready, sir," he reported. "Get back all of you. I'll fire it. It'll burn for thirty seconds, I guess, and that'll be enough for me to hook it."
The rest of the crew entered the Tank, the door being left open for the brave Welshman to gain shelter before the explosion.
Presently a match flickered in the gloom, followed by the sizzling of the sticks of cordite, which burned with comparative slowness when not under pressure.
With a furious bound the Welshman leapt into the Tank, his head butting into the stomach of a comrade who was holding the door in readiness to slam it the moment the man had gained shelter.
Even in the midst of danger the two began mutual recriminations, the Welshman asking "what the silly idiot meant by getting in his way," the other retorting by requesting him in future to use his eyes to see where he was going.
The argument ended with the terrific roar of the explosion, the sound intensified in the confined space. Fragments of the brickwork rattled on the Tank's armoured snout, clouds of acrid-smelling smoke wafted into the crowded interior of the landship, but the object was achieved.
Opening the door, Ralph saw sunlight filtering through the dust-laden atmosphere. Making his way along the new exit, he cautiously reconnoitred. The street was practically empty, save for the corpses that littered the ground and a group of staff officers who had evidently just emerged from taking cover.
"Confound you, sir!" roared a portly major-general. "What game do you think you're playing? Do you know you nearly blew us sky-high? Confound you, again!"
Setley waited until the irate officer had spoken his mind; then, saluting, made a brief report of his discovery.
"There you are, Richards; I told you so," exclaimed the staff officer, turning to one of his entourage. "The place is mined. Suppose it's safe now?"
"I think so, sir," replied Ralph.
"It may come in handy against the Von der Golz Redoubt, in case our men fail to secure a footing," observed the major addressed as Richards.
"There's no failure about it," snapped the major-general. "Send an orderly to the officer commanding the Royal Engineer detachment and request him to take steps to remove the explosive from the mine chamber. And what were you doing there?" he added, directing his attention to Setley. Evidently an explanation at least was necessary to justify the explosion that had all but settled a group of staff officers.
"Tank, eh? What made you turn her into a cellar? Didn't know? Well, you jolly well ought to. At a time when every available Tank is required in front of the Von der Golz Redoubt you topple the bally thing into a cellar."
Ralph was heartily glad to find himself dismissed from the presence of the peppery staff officer. He felt considerably ill-used. Instead of receiving a word of thanks for his resourcefulness in saving the captured position from being blown to hits, he had been "rapped over the knuckles."
"Here's a pioneer section just arrived, sir," reported Sergeant Alderhame. "If you saw the company commander perhaps he would spare enough men to help us dig a way out. It won't take much work, I think. The rubble has been well sifted by the bursting charge."
The officer readily consented to assist in the salvage operations. After all, the Tank had settled on the floor of the cellar, which was about eight feet below the ground-level. Before she had come to a standstill she had given forward for nearly five yards, and the whole of this space was now filled in with bricks and mortar, forming a fairly steep gradient.
Working strenuously for twenty minutes the fatigue party succeeded in levelling the slope sufficiently to enable the Tank to back. Fortunately, the motors and tractor-bands were intact. The mounting of one of the quickfirers was damaged beyond repair, the other was put in order by the crew.
Amidst the cheers of the men the Tank climbed, stern-foremost, out of her place of imprisonment and gained the shell-pitted street.
An orderly, doubling towards the British lines, stopped by the side of the freed machine.
"Can you push forward, sir?" he asked. "The infantry are being held up. There are only five Tanks left in action."
"Onclearing the other end of the captured village of Néancourt Ralph was able to form a fairly comprehensive idea of the present state of operations.
The Von der Golz Redoubt, one of the strongest positions in the boasted Wotan Line, was still held by the Huns. The British guns were thundering furiously against it. The marvel was that the men could stand such a gruelling, but the Huns did, keeping to the shelter of their deep dug-outs and manning the defences the moment the guns "lifted." Hundreds of Prussians must at that moment be entombed in those dug-outs, of which the entrances had caved in under the terrific power of the H.E. shells, yet hundreds more were available to hold the redoubt "at all costs."
During the lull between the cessation of the bombardment and the numerous but hitherto fruitless infantry assaults British airmen had flown over the redoubt, bombing the defences and even employing machine-gun fire against the tenacious grey-coats. The airmen were in turn attacked by Hun machines, and during the progress of the fighting on land combats in the "vasty air" were taking place unheeded by the grimly contesting troops in and around the Von der Golz Redoubt.
Deftly picking her way betwixt the scores—nay, hundreds—of bodies of dead and wounded that littered the ground, Setley's Tank approached the closely grouped Tommies who, hugging the earth to avoid the ubiquitous machine-guns, were awaiting the order to advance.
Of the other Tanks the tops of three could be discerned showing above a rise in the terrain. Two more had just advanced against the formidable defences, and both had failed gloriously.
"The guns are lifting, sir," reported Sergeant Alderhame.
"Good business!" muttered Ralph. "I'm fed up with this inaction. Another ten minutes will decide whether we are booked or not."
Crunching her way over the shallow trenches held by the British stormers, the Tank floundered through the vast shell-craters that up to a few minutes before had been torn up by the British guns. Quite recently there had been a system of trenches there—those deep, concrete-reinforced, scientifically constructed ones that had taken the Huns months to perfect. Every trace of their earthworks had been obliterated.
Beyond lay a triple line of barbed wire. By one of those freakish circumstances the entanglements had escaped the devastating hail of shells. A few posts had been shattered, some strands of wire cut through, but, generally, this defence work was as efficacious as ever, as the crowd of bodies in khaki and field-grey that were "hung up" on the tenacious barbs testified.
A bomb dropped from a hostile machine fell within ten yards of the Tank. In spite of her bulk and weight, the huge fabric trembled under the concussion.
"Beastly mean trick!" thought Ralph. "That Hun airman knows that we cannot see him, and that we don't carry antis. Wonder what our fliers are doing to let him amuse himself in this manner?"
With a sickening crash a biplane came to earth, right in the path of the moving Tank. A glance at the twisted wreckage showed that the infamous Black Cross was painted on the planes. Ralph had a smart answer to his question. Our airmen had been busy up aloft.
Setley did not trouble to turn aside his command. Right over the debris of the German biplane she waddled, crushing metal and wood into an unrecognizable pulp, and then thrust her blunt nose into the outer line of barbed wire.
Like a rhinoceros tearing up jungle grass with its formidable horns the Tank set about to destroy the entanglements. Posts snapped off like carrots, coils of wire suddenly released from tension quivered in the air until borne down and buried deep in the earth by the broad traction bands of the landship. The while machine-gun bullets rattled harmlessly against her armoured hide, bombs exploded on, against, and underneath the terrible war-machine. The car of Juggernaut would cut a very poor show compared with this motor-propelled fortress.
Other Tanks were engaged in similar operations, keeping parallel to the line of direction of the hostile trenches and methodically uprooting the entanglements in as many minutes as it had taken the Germans days to set up in position. Having completed this part of the programme the Tanks made for the sand-bagged parapet at the raised end of the glacis, while simultaneously with this movement the whistles went, and the British infantry rushed forward with an irresistibleélan.
Their attention divided between the terrifying landships, that were crunching over emplacements and trenches, and the glittering array of bayonets, the German machine-gunners, unfortunately for them, did not take into account a couple of British biplanes, Cleaving through the dense eddying clouds of smoke and recklessly disregarding the bursting shells the intrepid airmen descended to within a hundred feet of the Von der Golz Redoubt and the adjacent trenches. A hail of bullets from the airmen's Lewis guns—death-dealing hornets—caught the Huns unawares, creating havoc in the dense masses of grey-coated infantry.
Poison gas shells added to the horror of the desperate struggle. Aerial torpedoes, missiles from trench mortars, and the deadly shells from the Stokes' guns, rained upon the enemy position. It was a wonder that the Huns stood it as they did; yet, with their back to the wall and unable to retreat or even to take shelter in their deep dug-outs, they fought with a courage that could only be described as fanatical.
Ploughing her way through the mazes of barbed wire Setley's Tank came astride a deep trench that flanked one side of the redoubt to where the glacis terminated in what was a few hours before an elaborately constructed covered way bristling with loopholes, each one of which showed the muzzle of a machine-gun. Now there was little left but a crumbling mound of earth and disrupted sand-bags, in which half-buried Germans still maintained a furious but erratic rifle-fire.
Almost before he was aware of it Ralph found himself within the once considered impregnable redoubt. There was practically nothing to mark its position. It was only when he found himself confronted by a landship strongly resembling his own that he realized that he had gained his objective, for the oncoming Tank was not, as he at first imagined, one of German workmanship, but a British machine that had entered the redoubt on the opposite side.
Narrower and narrower grew the encircling ring of khaki. With bomb and bayonet the British infantry swept the flattened earthwork, until the surviving Huns, finding further resistance useless, threw down their arms and raised shouts of "Kamerad." Greatly to their surprise they found that, contrary to the statements of their officers, the British Tommy is a generous victor. As if by magic the heat of combat gave place to a light-hearted, almost considerate, treatment of the remnant of the garrison of the redoubt, and it was by no means an uncommon sight to see a British soldier bind up the wounds he had inflicted on a German only a few minutes previously.
The paucity of prisoners testified to the stubbornness of the enemy resistance. Quickly the captives were formed up and marched to the advance cages—a task not without great peril, since the German gunners, according to their customary indifference to their ill-fated comrades, were putting up a barrage behind the captured position.
With the clearing of the remnants of the garrison the victorious Tommies began to put the shell-tortured ground into a state of defence. They were now well astride the vaunted Hindenburg Line, and it was pretty certain that the Huns would make a strong and determined counter-attack in order to attempt to wrest the position from the victors. The attack would be soon—before the British heavy guns could be moved forward, and already the railway corps were placing sections of rails in position to enable the twelve- and fourteen-inch monsters to be sent forward. Once they were in position the Von der Golz was lost for good and all to the Huns, and they knew it.
There was no rest for the Tanks that had escaped being placedhors de combat. Orders were given for the landships to push ahead and hold the counter-attacking force in check.
"Independent action, you know," remarked the commanding officer of the Landship Section. "So out you go, and the very best of luck."
Ralph knew what that meant. It was one of the most hazardous enterprises that a Tank could be called upon to perform. With a quickening of his pulses he gave the word for the motors to be started once more and steered his armoured mobile fortress in the direction of the unknown territory that for the last two years or more had been firmly held by the Huns.
"By Jove! Alderhame," he exclaimed, "we're on a big thing this time. Wouldn't miss it for worlds."
"Let's hope we won't," added Sergeant Alderhame grimly. "The present world is quite good enough for me for a long time to come, Boches notwithstanding."
""'Old'ard, chapses; 'old 'ard!"
"What's that?" enquired Ralph, hearing a voice but unable to distinguish the words owing to the din both within and without.
"It's Corporal Anderson, sir," reported one of the crew.
Setley gave orders for the door to be opened. With the Tank still in motion, George Anderson clambered into the interior and gave vent to an exclamation of profound relief.
"Thoughter wasn't goin' to pick you up, sir," he remarked. "I got them Boches back all right, and then blow me if I could find you anywheres. If I've chased one bloomin' Tank I've chased a dozen, to say nothin' of a few cripples, although I didn't think as 'ow anythink could 'appen to this 'ere gadget."
The corporal was too modest to relate the peculiar adventures he had undergone in his finally successful quest; how he had twice been knocked flat by exploding shells, and how he had alighted upon a "pocket" of armed Germans who had been overlooked in the forward movement. With his utmost coolness Ginger had beckoned to a totally imaginary crowd of Tommies, and at the same time had shouted to the Huns to "'Ands up," with the result that more time was taken up in the return journey to the advance cages, shepherding eleven Guardsmen in front of him.
"Have you seen anything of Mr. Danvers?" enquired Ralph.
"Yes, sir," replied Ginger. "It was 'im wot told me where you was. 'Is Tank was just off along the Hoppy Road, goin' like a young racehorse."
It was in the direction of the fortified village of Oppy that Ralph was making. At this point the massing of German infantry had been reported by aerial scouts. By road and rail reserves had been rushed up from other sections of the Hindenburg Line. The Tanks were to cut the enemy's communications, if possible, and hinder the concentration of Germans for the counter-attack.
The shell-pitted ground over which Setley's Tank nosed her way was no longer under fire. The enormous craters had been torn up by the bombardment of the British heavies. The guns were now being pushed forward, and although the German artillery was still putting up a strong barrage the projectiles were falling between the captured Von der Golz Redoubt and Néancourt village.
Every foot of the way was strewn with evidences of the devastating effect of the pounding of the shells. Numerous corpses, half-buried limbers, dismounted field-guns, and a medley of shattered transport waggons testified to the terrible gruelling the Huns had received behind their trenches. Here and there were heaps of brickwork mingled with still smouldering woodwork—all that was left of a dozen villages. Hardly a tree was left standing. The few that were had been stripped of branches and reared their scorched and seared trunks like grim gallows trees silhouetted against the black and yellow waste of smoke.
Already British cavalry were patrolling considerably beyond the ground held by the infantry. The men, filled with wild enthusiasm at being able to be in the saddle and after their foes, were making short work of all small detachments of Germans who had got out of touch with the main body.
For three miles Setley's Tank pursued her way before losing sight of the cavalry. Occasionally a Hun sniper would send a bullet pinging harmlessly against her steel sides, but the crew loftily ignored the useless compliment. With bigger game in view, the individual German marksman could be simply left alone.
As the Tank approached a ruined wall a khaki-clad figure appeared as from the earth and began running towards the oncoming machine, waving his hands in a manner that clearly indicated his wish for the landship to stop.
"He's an officer, sir," reported Sergeant Alderhame. "Wonder what he's doing so far ahead? Prisoner, perhaps, who has managed to give the Huns the slip."
Giving orders for the motors to be switched off, Ralph brought the Tank to a dead stop, and unbolting the armoured door awaited the officer's approach. Caution urged him not to throw the door wide open, in case there were snipers about, but without drawing the fire of a single rifle the stranger gained the Tank and at Ralph's invitation nimbly hopped in.
"Glad to have fallen in with you," was the new-comer's greeting. He was a tall sparely built man in the uniform of a captain of the Royal Flying Corps. "My name is Cludderborough. I suppose I have already been reported as missing. I was brought down a week ago last Friday. Nearly came a good old crash, but got off lightly, with the exception of a sprained ankle. I managed to escape during the bending of the Hindenburg Line. That was early this morning. So far I've not done so badly, but my ankle is giving me a lot of pain. So that is why I signalled for you to stop."
"But we aren't going your way," remarked Ralph. "We're off on a sort of independent cruise, don't you know. I would suggest that you enjoy the hospitality of the nearest shell-hole until our cavalry patrols come up. They are not so very far behind."
Captain Cludderborough did not hail the proposition with enthusiasm. In fact, he promptly "turned it down."
"Too jolly risky," he observed. "Already snipers have put shots through my coat. You have no objection to taking me as a passenger, I hope? I may come in pretty useful, since I know the country behind the German line very well, both from the standpoint of an aerial observer and from that of an escaped prisoner."
Ralph did not immediately accept the offer. There was no good reason why he should not do so. Rapidly weighing up the situation, he decided that no great harm could be done in the giving the Flying Corps officer a "lift."
"I must warn you," he said, "that we are about to engage in a particularly hazardous enterprise. If you are anxious to rejoin your Corps as quickly as possible I should advise you to accept my proposition. If, on the other hand, you think you can materially assist us then by all means come along."
"Right," rejoined the captain promptly. "You are about to cut the Germans' lines of communication in the neighbourhood of Oppy? There's a beautiful temporary trestle-bridge which the Huns have recently made to take the place of a steel viaduct brought down by one of our airmen. This Tank ought to crumple the structure as easily as if it were a pack of cards. By the by, have you a snack of something to offer me? I am absolutely ravenous."
"Get Captain Cludderborough something to eat, Corporal Anderson," said Ralph. "You'll have to excuse our lack of courtesy," he added. "The limited space, the jolting motion, and above all the fact that we are in an hostile country, prevents me from doing the honours properly."
"Where's your map?" asked the captain, after he had finished his meal. "Ah, there you are: no sign of the viaduct is shown. The thing's beastly inaccurate. See that slight river almost ahead? That's Nôtre Dame d'Huy. The railway line skirts the other side of the hill. There's a fairly broad valley between Nôtre Dame and the hill on the right. Both eminences are crossed with trenches, but they are not held. The Huns were clearing out as I slipped through. It's my belief that they have purposely retired in order to leave a tempting gap for our troops, and then they'll start shelling from both sides. However, it's too early for that, so we ought to get through and astride the railway line before they spot us."
Captain Cludderborough spoke with such decision that his words carried conviction. With his aid there was certainly a good chance of pulling off a highly successful coup. By destroying the railway bridge the transference of German troops from the southern sectors of the line to the threatened regions would be seriously impeded. By the time the men were taken by a circuitous loop-line the British heavy guns would be in position ready to meet the expected counter-attack upon the village of Néancourt and the captured Von der Golz Redoubt.
Steadily the Tank approached the gap between the two hills. So far all went well. Captain Cludderborough's statement that the Germans had abandoned the rising ground was evidently confirmed, for there were no signs of any living Huns.
"Rummy sort of show, sir," commented Sergeant Alderhame, as the defence came in sight. "I should feel inclined to go smack bang over the hill instead of through that gap."
"Eh?" interrupted the captain. "You would, would you? Not only would you have to surmount difficult ground, but you would be absolutely on the sky-line and a target for every German quickfirer within ten thousand yards."
"Very good, sir," said the sergeant quietly. Having made his protest, he had done all he could in that direction. He was bound to obey unquestionably the decision of his superior officer, and since Setley agreed to the captain's remark the matter was settled.
Nevertheless, Sergeant Alderhame's words impressed themselves upon Ralph's mind The subaltern decided that he would be unfeignedly glad when the Tank emerged from that forbidding valley. The very stillness, contrasting vividly with the rumble of the distant guns, seemed out of place.
The defile was nearly three quarters of a mile in length, its width averaging only a hundred yards. On either side the ground rose with tolerable abruptness, the height of the encircling hills being considerably greater than it had appeared when viewed from a distance. Half-way to the summit a triple line of trenches encompassed both hills, but these were as silent as the tents of Sennacherib when the angel of death had passed through the Assyrian hosts.
"Nearly through," remarked Captain Cludderborough, who had taken his stand at Ralph's elbow. "You'll see the precious trestle-bridge in half a shake."
As he spoke there was a loud roar. A dense cloud of smoke and dust leapt skywards at the distance of a furlong in front of the Tank. Almost simultaneously another explosion occurred at a similar distance to the rear. The Huns had sprung two land mines. The Tank, caught betwixt them, was trapped, and to impress the fact more strongly upon her hundreds of Germans appeared from the hitherto apparently deserted trenches.
The cold muzzle of an automatic pistol was pressed against Ralph's temple and the mocking voice of the pseudo Captain Cludderborough remarked:
"You will do well, sir, to order your men to surrender instantly. There is no escape. Give in without resistance and you will be accorded honourable treatment. I, Kapitan Karl von Hoerfelich, guarantee it."
Von Hoerfelich was a resourceful German who, attracted by the offer of a large monetary reward for the capture of an intact British Tank, and animated by a strong desire to further the interest of the Imperial arms, had employed a daring ruse in order to attempt to achieve his object. Speaking English with the utmost fluency and having a thorough knowledge of British military matters—a knowledge gained by a seven years' exile in Great Britain, during which time he had taken up a menial position as a waiter at a famous Army Club—he submitted his plan to his superiors.
In brief, he was to personate a British airman who had made a forced landing behind the German lines. The chance of meeting with a Tank operating far in advance of the infantry was realized, and so far he had successfully lured the landship into a formidable ambush. The moment had come for him boldly to proclaim his identity, his firm belief being that seeing the uselessness of resistance, the crew would tamely surrender at his summons.
Completely taken aback when he felt the muzzle of the pistol against his temple, Second-Lieutenant Setley wisely refrained from obeying his natural inclination of grappling with his declared enemy.
"Wouldn't it be advisable to stop the motors?" asked Ralph coolly. "We'll come an awful crash in that beastly hole ahead if we don't. It looks quite fifty feet deep, doesn't it?"
Deceived by the apparent simplicity and urgency of the question, von Hoerfelich gave a brief glance through the slit in the armour in order to verify Setley's statement.
Quick as was his action, Ralph was quicker. With a sharp upward movement of his elbow he jerked the German's automatic pistol. At the same time he ducked his head and gripped the Hun round the waist. Interlocked in a grim embrace, the two men struggled in the confined space while the Tank ambled uncontrolled towards the yawning mine-crater.
Something hard grazed Ralph's cheek and struck the German on the point of his chin with a dull hideous thud. With a muttered "Wot's yer game, old sport?" Ginger Anderson had planted a terrific left-hander on a vulnerable part of the Boche's anatomy. The fellow's resistance collapsed, and he dropped inertly at the little corporal's feet.
Recovering his disturbed senses, Ralph shouted to the men to open fire; then turning the Tank in as small a curve as possible he steered the monster up the steep side of the ravine, where hundreds of the enemy, assisted by the natural defence of the ground, awaited with complete confidence the capture of the trapped Tank.
"Thetactics of the landship that, according to their belief, was as good as captured, puzzled the Germans considerably. They waited, expecting to be hailed by the Prussian captain, whom they knew was inside the Tank.
The Huns were quickly undeceived. A withering fire from the Tank's machine-guns catching them unawares played havoc with the soldiers who had rashly left their shelter trenches. At the same time, the landship, heeling over until she appeared to be on the point of capsizing, lumbered bravely up the steeply shelving side of the valley.
The ground, though rocky and irregular, afforded a good grip to the tractor-bands. Small and medium sized boulders she crushed into the softer soil, the larger ones she pushed aside. Brushwood and saplings were rent, the few stunted pine trees in her course were simply uprooted.
"By Jove!" ejaculated Setley delightedly. "She's doing it. I was rather doubtful whether she would tackle that gradient. Now, you bounders, how's that?"
The Tank was astride the first trench—a deep and narrow excavation, but, unlike those on flat ground, following the contour of the hillside in a fairly straight line. With her nose resting on the parados and her tractor-bands scooping up sand-bags like a dog scratching at the mouth of a rabbit-hole the landship remained practically stationary for nearly a minute, the maxims each letting loose the best part of a belt of ammunition.
Fortunately there were no field-guns in this section. The Huns, recovering from their surprise, were, however, letting fly with machine-guns, rifles and bombs, all of which had no appreciable effect upon the armoured mastodon.
The Tank was nearly the cause of her own destruction by remaining astride the trench, for some of the maxim bullets striking a can of detonating powder that had been left over from the amount required to charge the landmines went off with a roar that completely dominated the rattle of musketry.
In spite of her weight and bulk the landship reeled under the terrific blast. Huge rocks were hurled against her sides. When the smoke had cleared away Ralph could form a hasty idea of the nature of the damage. Where the trench had been was a huge semi-crater nearly fifty yards in length. A large portion of the hillside had been blown away, forming an almost perpendicular semicircular cliff. The corresponding half of the circle of displaced earth had crashed into the valley—a vast jumble of rocks, stones, earth and sand-bags, mingled with the corpses of a hundred Germans. And within her own length of the newly formed precipice the Tank rocked on the unstable soil. It was touch-and-go whether she would slither, like a side-slipping motor-car, into the abyss.
Once more mechanical ingenuity triumphed over the forces of nature. Resisting the attraction of gravity and overcoming the tendency to slip on the crumbling, moving soil, the Tank drew steadily away from the danger zone, until gaining firm ground she resumed her upward climb and approached the second line of trenches.
Not a shot came from this part of the defences. The Huns, bewildered and demoralized by the nerve-racking catastrophe and the sight of their comrades being hurled like stones from a catapult, had fled. Even their officers made no effort to keep them back. Not knowing the cause of the explosion they had formed the erroneous idea that the British landship possessed some terrific and hitherto unknown means of destruction and had used it with annihilating results upon the men in the first trench.
"We're through," ejaculated Alderhame. "'Ware the summit, sir; that skunk of a Hun evidently spoke the truth for once in his life when he said we would be shelled if we showed up on the skyline."
"I will," replied Ralph. "I had forgotten. Suppose it was in the excitement of the minute. Any casualties?"
"Private Saunderson has got a gash over the left eye, sir," reported the sergeant. "A splinter of steel must have come in through the sighting aperture. It's not at all a serious wound."
Skirting the rounded top of the hill of Nôtre Dame Ralph brought his command in sight of the undulating country beyond, an expanse of fertile land dotted with numerous valleys, all of which were fated to be destroyed by the retreating enemy within the next few days. Right in the foreground was the railway line, the viaduct being less than half a mile from the moving Tank. Detached parties of Germans and isolated individuals were hurrying away from the approaching British troops, who were now at least three miles off.
In the distance a column of white vapour stood out clearly against the clouds of black and brown smoke and announced the fact that a train was on the move, making in a north-westerly direction. It was one of many bringing up the German reserves to launch their formidable counter-attack upon the men who had broken Hindenburg's line.
"Whack her up for all she's worth," ordered Ralph, addressing the motor mechanic. "Now, lads, it's a race. It's up to us to get to that viaduct before the train can cross."
The bridge, although not marked on Ralph's military map, was in the position indicated by the impersonator of Captain Cludderborough. It crossed a small stream at a point one hundred yards or thereabouts to the north of the original structure that had been bombed and demolished by British airmen. The temporary viaduct was made of huge baulks of timber supporting a central span of only thirty feet. The banks of the stream that flowed underneath were low, the ground sloping gently on the near side but rising with considerable abruptness on the remote side.
With a succession of jolts and bumps the Tank plunged downhill at a greater rate than she had ever done before in her brief yet strenuously exciting career; but notwithstanding the hot pace Setley was forced to come to the conclusion that the troop train would be the first to reach the bridge.
He thought hard. The time for decisive action, bordering on self-sacrifice, was at hand. Unable to destroy the bridge before the train rumbled across he decided to try conclusions with the locomotive.
"Pass the word that any man who wishes may get out," he said to Sergeant Alderhame. "I'm going to ram that engine."
Alderhame bellowed out his superior officer's permission. It would be a comparatively easy matter for the men to alight from the moving Tank, but one and all elected to take their chances with their youthful officer.
Gripping the nearest object that formed a likely hold the men awaited with grim faces and tightly closed lips the impact with an equal target of metal moving at five or six times the rate of the landship.
The driver of the locomotive had spotted the Tank. To Ralph's satisfaction he saw that the German was applying his brakes and shutting off steam. Had he maintained his speed there was a chance that he might have escaped a collision. By easing down he not only played into the hands of his enemy but mitigated the chance of the Tank's destruction.
Had there been time Ralph would have merely steered his Tank across the lines, in which case the weight of the landship would have twisted the track and caused the train to leave the metals. But there was not. To attempt to do so would result in the engine striking the Tank fairly on her side.
Meeting at an aggregate rate of nearly thirty miles an hour the Tank's nose struck the locomotive a glancing blow somewhere in the region of the driver's cab. With a terrific rending of metal and the hiss of escaping steam the engine toppled over on its side, while the carriages either telescoped or lurched over the slight embankment.
As for the Tank, she began to climb upon the wreckage of the vanquished; then turning began to describe a small circle.
It was some minutes before the bruised and shaken crew could realize what had occurred. The tractor-bands on the right-hand side had been shattered by the impact, the left-hand one was intact and still moving. Like a bird wounded in one wing the landship was unable to keep a straight course and could only crawl round and round almost on her own axis.
Although crippled the Tank still retained certain of her powers of offence. Her maxims were trained upon the swarm of dazed and shaken Huns who were emerging from the wrecked carriages. There was no need to open fire. The Germans had a wholesome dread of British landships, a fear based solely upon hearsay since none of these had previously seen a Tank. With upraised hands and cries of "Mercy, Kamerad!" the majority now approached the now motionless landship. The remaining survivors of the collision were either hiding behind the overturned carriages or else scurrying across the fields, in order to put a safe distance between them and the frightful engine of warfare.
"What's to be done with this crush?" enquired Ralph. "We can't fire on the blighters, we can't take them prisoners."
"And if we let them go they'll soon tell their pals, sir," added Alderhame. "The best thing, I take it, is to hold them under the cover of our guns and await events. Our cavalry patrols may be here shortly."
Setley shook his head.
"Won't do," he objected. "More than likely the limits of to-day's gains are already fixed, in which case we may have to wait until next week. I'll order the Boches to clear out. It will leave us free for another task; after that we must take our chances."
The Huns obeyed Ralph's peremptory order with evident hesitation Some of them, perhaps, wanted to be taken prisoners. Fresh from the Russian front they dreaded the horrors of the Ypres salient and the regions of the Somme and Ancre. Others were under the impression that the order to clear out was merely a ruse on the part of the Tank and that directly they were at a certain distance from the latter they would be shot down by her machine-guns.
"Now," declared Ralph, as the handful of Britons were left alone with the dead and dying victims of the deliberate collision. "A couple of men, with a charge of explosive and a two-minute fuse: we're going to settle the bridge."