Final Blackout: A Futuristic War Novel

  It was not that the lieutenant was kind. He merely did not care. His men did not belong to a government but to himself; just as he belonged to them. It seemed that all men with nerves had died of them, leaving a strange corps of beings above such things as human weakness and death, men who had evolved for themselves a special art of living. Malcolm had no hopes for the mercies of the lieutenant; they did not exist. And he was thinking to himself, following that cape, that the race of fighting men, while laudable in many ways, had degenerated in others. Their love of battle was quite finished and bravery was a word. For what better evidence could he have than this fact of the lieutenant's running away from a force because it had field pieces?

  A question annoyed Malcolm. They were outward bound from the last encampment. But had they any destination? What would they do for food?

  Ahead a hazy blur of light became apparent. Weeds had choked the exit from the fortress, and the roof had fallen until it was necessary to crawl belly down on the rubble to get out.

  The lieutenant made a cautious survey. Ahead stretched an indistinct trench which had once communicated with the rear. It had been dug in a sloping ravine which fell away to the north. They had come through the hill on which the Russians had established their PC.

  Stepping aside, the lieutenant passed his men out. Hardly a shrub waved to mark their presence in the trench. They did not group, but faded into cover until a very small space, apparently quite empty, actually contained the whole force.

  "Pollard, take the east slope," whispered the lieutenant. "Toutou¯where are you?"

  "Here the same, mon lieutenant," said Toutou, crawling out.

  "You waited for contact?"

  "Yess, mon lieutenant. Zey are ssso young, so many."

  "Very well. Take the west slope. Work up toward the crest and in one half hour by the sun you will hear our signal to attack. Carstone, wait here in case there is any firing from above and cover our retreat if necessary. If we are successful, come up quickly with your guns. Weasel, locate their baggage; take six men and be very quiet when you take the sentries. "

  "Right, sit."

  "Pass the word. First Regiment with Pollard, Second with Toutou, Third with me. Remember, no firing, only wires, clubs and knives. And do not kill their commander or the staff."

  The word was passed like a gentle draft of air. Then Pollard was gone and a third of the brigade melted away. Toutou's third vanished without a sound. The lieutenant thrust a stick into the earth to watch its shadow.

  The sun was still very low and the mist over the valleys had not wholly burned away. From over the ridge came the clatter of rifle fire and the occasional dull thump of grenades.

  Presently the lieutenant signaled with his hand and slid out of the trench and through the underbrush toward the crest. Malcolm stayed by Carstone.

  Spread thin, the Third Regiment slithered silently upward. They could not yet see the crest, for the way was long and there were several false ridges. This hillside was very uneven, pock-marked with shell holes now very indistinct. Everywhere before the advance, rabbits scurried and dived into cover. They were avoided by the soldiers for the reason that they carried a deadly sickness, and though all were probably immune, it was not good to take chances. Only the birds with which the Continent now teemed were good prey, but the soldiers were so nauseated by their meat by now that they seldom took the trouble to set snares.

  A squeal, scarcely started before it was stopped, told of some providential soul picking up a pig of the type which had long forgotten its domestication. These were too rare to be overlooked, but First Sergeant Hanley, a tough Scot nominally commanding the Third Regiment, went slipping off on a tangent to reprimand the act.

  Mawkey; who had scuttled ahead, came back now, his evil eyes bright with excitement. "They all face south. There are about six officers and a guard of thirty soldiers. The artillery is over to your right in an old field-gun emplacement."

  "Gian," whispered the lieutenant to an Italian sergeant with a perpetually hungry look, "take a company over and stand ready to squash the gunners between Toutou and yourself when he comes

  Up bobbed Gian. "I hope they have rations."

  "Who ever heard of a Russian who had anything to eat?" said the lieutenant. "On your way."

  Gian was there and then wasn't there. Aside from the distant firing, there was no sound. The battery above had ceased to bellow some time ago, being uncertain of the positions of its own troops.

  The lieutenant glanced at the sun and then thrust another stick into the center of a flat place and measured the shadow with the spread of his hand just to be sure. He had three or four minutes left of the half-hour. He pulled down the visor over his face and the men near him did the same.

  There was a slight snicking sound as firing mechanisms were checked and bayonets tested.

  More slowly now the lieutenant brought them forward. Mawkey, at his side, was trembling with eagerness as he unrolled his favorite weapon¯a stick to which was attached three lengths of light chain appended by choicely sharp chunks of shrapnel.

  They were almost to the crest now, so flat in the tall grass that they were still invisible to the Russians. The lieutenant checked the sun. He whistled the trill of a meadow lark three times, paused and then whistled it again.

  There was a yelp of terror, hacked off short, over by the battery. A second later the grass all about the PC. erupted with soldiers. A Russian officer emitted a hysterical string of commands and the thirty men whirled about to be drowned in a sea of charging men. Two or three guns went off. The crew of an alcohol machine gun valiantly tried to slew about their weapon and then, seeing it was no use, tossed down their sidearms.

  The commander was a young man of very severe aspect. He started to roar his complaint and then, seeing a way out, leaped toward the lip of the ridge.

  Mawkey's weapon wrapped about his legs and he went down. Ruefully he disentangled the weapon and began to massage his shins.

  It was all over before the dust had had a chance to rise. Thirty prisoners, one slightly wounded, were disarmed. Toutou came up with the battery crew and reported that Gian was manning the field pieces, which were six, not two.

  "No casualties," reported Toutou., grinning.

  Pollard, who had been a little tardy, thanks to an unforeseen ravine, was cross. A runner came up from the Weasel to report that all baggage was in hand, but that the Russians had surrendered upon seeing themselves outpointed.

  The lieutenant took off his visored helmet, for it was very hot in the sun, and handed it with his cloak to Mawkey, taking the remnant of a British flying cap in return. Now that the Russian commander had regained his composure, the lieutenant called attention to him with a bow.

  "I am indebted to you, sie," The, commander, who spoke fair English, bowed in his turn. "I have been outmaneuvered, sir. I congratulate you."

  "Thank you. Now hadn't we better recall your troops before they squander all their ammunition on a pile of brush filled with bullets?"

  The commander blinked and then recovered, smiling. "So that. was the trick!'

  "That is the center of an old fortress system," said the lieutenant.

  "I did not know the region."

  "Which could hardly be expected. We waited for you for three days."

  "I apologize for my underestimate of the troops here. We were sent out some three months ago to carve our way through to the sea and inspect the region in the hope that food can be shipped inland from here."

  "There is no food," said the lieutenant. "In fact, if you can forgive such sentiment, we attacked you solely because we were informed you had horses."

  "Ah," said the commander, understanding. He turned and rattled an order to an aide who stood by to hoist a recall flag upon further command.

  "About the terms," said the commander, "I trust that you follow the custom of these days."

  "All prisoners disarmed and released and all impersonal baggage retained."

  "Sir, altho
ugh I dislike having to ask further forbearance from a man I respect, I hope you will allow us to retain our arms. The country through which we have passed is filled with roving bands of soldiers."

  "Of course, you will give me your parole," said the lieutenant, "and swear on your honor as an officer to return to your center of government?"

  "Certainly. You, perhaps, can give me the data we wish."

  "Certainly. And now pardon me. Pollard, man that alcohol gun and send word to our battery to stand by. Have Weasel bring up the baggage train to that ravine below there. Your troops," he said, turning back to the commander, "will be left in possession of their rifles and ammunition. We shall retain the battery and animals and all impersonal baggage."

  "Thank you," said the commander, giving the signal to hoist the recall. "We shall begin our return at noon. You wish my troops to remain there in the valley, of course, until they march?"

  "Naturally!"

  "And you say there is no fertile region between here and the sea?"

  "On my honor I know of none. England has exhausted herself and is of no value, and I dare say your own country is in like condition."

  "Well¯ Sir, may I be frank?"

  "Of course!'

  "We were not sent anywhere. We are the last of the Imperial White Russian Army which was defeated and thrown out of Moscow five months ago. The new government, I believe, strictly favored isolation and, I am certain, is in no position to favor anything else. There is no government now in Germany, aside from a few scattered officers in places which were not touched by the many waves of crop-destroying insects and disease bacteria. Spheres of isolation are being formed with scorched-earth belts about them. We sought to establish ourselves in Paris, some two weeks' march from here, but there is nothing there but starvation. We sought to reach the coast in the hope that the starvation frontiers had not yet reached there!"

  "They have!'

  "For your sake I regret it!'

  "Where shall you go now?"

  "I am not sure, but I am told by stray wanderers that there may be such regions in Italy. We have been living as we could off the land, and we can continue to do so. We seem to be wholly immune to soldier's sickness and for that we are thankful. A serum was developed in Moscow last year and we have all been given it."

  "I trust you find such a place in Italy," said the lieutenant, extending his hand.

  "And luck to you," said the Russian. He bowed and turned on his heel, marching at the head of his staff and bodyguard down to the waiting troops in the valley below. With them went their own belongings.

  The lieutenant watched from his vantage spot for some time and then, regaining his good spirits, made a tour of his brigade, pleased as any commander should be when he has chosen his ground, carried through an elementary bit of strategy and tactics and found that his men still behaved well.

  That afternoon, with the Russians gone, the lieutenant's forces tasted the fruits of victory. One and all, they gorged themselves upon dripping roasts of horseflesh, cooked by a prideful Bulger.

  Chapter III

  For eight days the Fourth Brigade lived off the Russians. It was not luxurious, but it was better than crumbs scraped out of a fortress twenty years in its grave. Apparently the Russians had met and defeated other forces to the east, for the stores included a kind of bread, made of bark and wild wheat, peculiar to Rumanian troops and a wine which Alsatian soldiers concocted from certain roots. Too, there were some spare tunics and overcoats, evidently located in some hitherto-forgotten dump. These, though slightly moldy and insect-frayed, were most welcome, especially since they were light tan, a color which blended well with the autumn which was upon them.

  But at the end of eight days the brigade began to show signs of restlessness. Wild geese, in increasing flock, had begun to wing southward, and the men lay on their backs, staring moodily into the blue, idly counting.

  The lieutenant paced along a broken slab of concrete which had once been part of a pillbox commanding the valley. For, with the new guns and even the scarce ammunition, the troops did not need to fear sunlight.

  In his ears, there sounded the honking which heralded an early winter. And the caterpillars which inched along and tumbled off the guns had narrow tan ruffs which clearly stated that the winter would be a hard one. Spiders, too, confirmed it.

  It was one of those infrequent times when the lieutenant did not smile, which heightened the effect of his seriousness. Men moved quietly when they came near and aid not linger but cat-footed away. The battery crew silently sat along the grass-niched wall and studiously regarded their boots, only glancing up when the lieutenant went the other way.

  All hoped they knew what he was thinking. The winter past had not been a comfortable one: starving, they had huddled in an all-but-roofless church, parsimoniously munching upon the stores they had found buried there-stores which had not lasted through. At that time the Germans were still making sporadic raids, not yet convinced that their own democracy could win out against the French king, but bent more upon food than glory. The brigade had marched into that town four hundred and twelve strong.

  And now winter was here again, knocking with bony fingers upon their consciousness. Longingly they looked south and watched to see if the lieutenant gave any more heed to one direction than another.

  Not for their lives would they have bothered him. Even Mawkey stayed afar.

  And it came to them with an unholy shock when they saw that a man had been passed through the sentries and was approaching the lieutenant with every evidence of accosting him. Several snatched at the fellow, but, imperiously, he swept on.

  He might have been a ludicrous figure at a less tense moment. He was a powerful brute, his massive, hairy head set close down upon his oxlike shoulders. But about him he clutched some kind of cloak which would have heeled an ordinary being but only came to his thighs. On his head he had a cocked hat decorated with a plume. At his side swung a sword. On his chest was a gaudy ribbon fully two feet long.

  Without ceremony he planted himself squarely before the lieutenant and lifted off his hat in a sweeping, grandiloquent bow.

  The lieutenant was so astonished that he did not immediately return the salutation. Carefully he looked the fellow up and down, from heavy boots back again to the now-replaced cocked hat.

  "General…" began the intruder, "I come to pay my respects."

  "I am no general, and if you wish to see me get permission from my sergeant major. Pollard! Who let this by?"

  "A moment." said the hairy one. "I have a proposition to offer you, one which will mean food and employment!'

  "You are very sure of yourself, fellow. Are we mercenaries that we can be bought?"

  "Food is a matter of need, general. Allow me to introduce myself I am Duke LeCroisaut."

  "Ekike? May I ask of what?"

  "Of a town, general. I received the grant from the king not three years ago!'

  "King?"

  "The King of France, His Majesty Renard the First. My credentials." And he took forth a scroll from his cloak and unwound it.

  Without touching it, the lieutenant read the flowing phrases in the flourishing hand.

  "Renard the First has been executed these last six months. And I, fellow, have nothing to do with the politics of France. We waste time, I think."

  "General, do not judge so abruptly. My town, St. Hubert, has come into the hands of a brigand named Despard, a former private in the French army, who has seen fit to settle himself upon my people, oppressing them!'

  "This is nothing to me. Guard, escort this n beyond the sentries!"

  "But the food¯" said the Duke with a leer.

  The lieutenant shook his head at the guard, staying them for a moment.

  "What about this food?"

  "The peasants have some. If you do as I ask, it shall be yours."

  "Where is this town?"

  "About a week's march south and west for you and your men; two days' march for myself."


  "You evidently had some troops. What happened to them?"

  "Perhaps unwisely, general, I dispensed with their services some months ago."

  "Then you wish us to take a town, set you up and¯ Here! What's this?"

  The fellow had sunk back against the concrete wall. He had been breathing with difficulty and his hand now sought his throat. His eyes began to protrude and some flecks of blood rose to his lips. He shook.

  "An old wound¯" he gasped. "Gas¯"

  The lieutenant unlimbered his pistol and slid off the catches.

  "No! No no!" screamed the Duke. "It is not soldier's sickness, I swear it!

  No! For the love of God, of your king¯"

  Smoke leaped from the lieutenant's hand and the roar of the shot rolled around the valley below. The empty tinkled on the stones. The lieutenant stepped away from the jerking body and made a sweeping motion with his arm.

  "March in an hour. I do not have to caution you to stay away from this body. Mawkey, pack my things."

  "The guns?" said Gian, worriedly glancing at his pets and then beseechingly at the lieutenant.

  "Detail men … to haul them. They're light enough. But leave the three-inch.

  It would bog before the day was out."

  "Si," said Gian gladly.

  Shortly, Sergeant Hanley hurried up. "Third Regiment ready, sir."

  An old man named Chipper piped, "First Regimerit ready, sir."

  Toutou bounded back and forth, making a final check from the muster roll he carried in his head. Then he snapped about and cried, "Second Regiment ready, sir."

  Gian, overcome by new importance, saluted. "First Artillery ready, sir."

  But it did not come off so well. The Fourth Brigade's First Artillery, a unit of .65-caliber field pieces, had been drowned to a man in a rising flood of the Somme while they strove to free their guns. For an instant the people here glanced around and knew how small they were, how many were dead and all that had gone before; they felt the chill in the wind which blew down from countless miles of graveyard.