CHAPTER VII

  THE FIRST ADVANCE

  "MY eye, you chaps! Come out and have a look," exclaimed Penfold,who, having gone to draw rations for the rest of the occupants of thedug-out, had just returned with a generous quantity of tea, bacon,and comparatively fresh loaves.

  "Look at what?" asked Alderhame, still stretched on his bed of dampstraw. "The dawn----?"

  "At what those strafed Huns have done," declared Penfold.

  "If it's young Sidney they've been doing in there'll be trouble,"declared Alderhame.

  The quartette left their subterranean retreat and made their way tothe fire-trench. By means of a trench periscope they surveyed thehostile lines. Above the sand-bags was a rough notice-board on whichwas chalked:

  "OTHER COMRADS WELKOME."

  A fusillade of rifle bullets quickly demolished the offending board,but almost immediately it was replaced by another:

  "WHEN ARE YOU ENGLANDER COMING? WE ARE TIRED OF WATEING FOR THE ADVANCE PROMISED."

  This, too, was speedily shot to pieces, and having let off aconsiderable quantity of "hot air" the Tommies returned to theirbreakfasts.

  At ten o'clock the men crowded into the fire-trench. Although noinformation had been given out concerning the revised arrangementsfor the attack the men instinctively realized that the crucial momentwas at hand.

  Suddenly the desultory cannonade gave place to a violent artillerybombardment, to which the German guns could do little or nothing inreply. Admirably registered, their range being regulated either byobservation officers at isolated posts or else from the aeroplanesthat hovered overhead, the shells battered the Hun wire entanglementsand first-line trenches almost out of recognition. The air was filledwith dust and smoke--red, yellow, and green in colour--while throughthe clouds of vapour could be discerned the dismembered bodies ofGerman soldiers hurled twenty feet or more into the air by theterrific force of the exploding missiles.

  For a solid twenty minutes the hail of high explosive projectilescontinued, while simultaneously shrapnel put up a barrage in the rearof the hostile trenches with a two-fold purpose: to prevent the Hunsrunning away and also to make it almost impossible for reinforcementsto be brought up to the firing line.

  "They're lifting!" exclaimed Penfold as the shells began to dropfurther away.

  "Five minutes more, lads!" said the platoon commander in clear,decisive tones. "Now, show them what the Wheatshires can do in broaddaylight."

  "D'ye want a leg-up, Tubby?" sang out George Anderson, addressing hisremarks to a corpulent private whose previous efforts to surmount theparapet were ludicrous in spite of the mental and physical strain of"going over the top."

  A general laugh greeted George's words, the butt of his remarksjoining in the hilarity. With few exceptions the men werehigh-spirited. Their confidence in the artillery and the knowledgethat they were "top-dog" when it came to hand-to-hand fighting madethem eager and alert to rush forward at the first blast of thewhistle.

  Thirty seconds more.

  With an ear-splitting roar and a veritable volcano of flame the mineunder the Pumpnickel Redoubt was exploded. The earth trembledviolently with the crash of the detonation. In places sand-bagsslipped bodily into the British trench. A gust of violently displacedair, bearing grit and dust, mingled with weightier fragments, sweptover the heads of the waiting Tommies. Where the strongly fortifiedearthworks had stood was a crater quite two hundred yards across, buthow deep the British were yet to learn.

  Before the last of the far-flung debris had fallen to earth thewhistles sounded. With a rousing cheer the line of khaki-clad menswarmed over the parapet into the muddy and smoke-laden,crater-pitted No Man's Land.

  Almost without opposition the Wheatshires gained their objective.More, carried away by their enthusiasm, pressed onwards, until theirofficers, realizing that the men were in danger of being hit by theirown shells, recalled them with difficulty.

  Lining the outer edge of the enormous mine-crater, the Wheatshiresset to work to consolidate their easily won position. Setley, whileengaged in the work, viewed with astonishment the stupendous resultof the explosion of the mine. For full seventy feet the scorched andstill smoking earth sloped steeply to the bottom of the immense pit.Everything of a defensive nature--concrete gun-pits, reinforcedtrenches, and deep dug-outs--was obliterated by the comparativelysmooth "batter" of displaced chalk and earth.

  "When are the guns going to lift, do you think, sergeant?" askedPenfold, who, having laid aside his rifle, was piling up sand-bagswith the energy of a steam-engine.

  "'Bout time," replied Sergeant Ferris. "We're supposed to make goodfor a mile. Hullo! What's happening on our left flank?"

  Setley glanced in the direction indicated by the non-com. Here theCoalshires, many obliquely to the general line of advance, werefalling in heaps. Men were tugging and hacking frantically atformidable barriers of uncut barbed wire. Evidently this section ofthe hostile line had escaped the otherwise general pulverization ofthe Hun entanglements, while the enemy, quick to grasp the advantage,had brought up dozens of machine-guns from deep dug-outs, raising theintact weapons to the surface by means of lifts.

  "Good God!" ejaculated Alderhame hoarsely. "Our fellows are givingway."

  With almost every officer either killed or wounded, confronted by analmost insurmountable barrier of barbed wire, and subjected to aterrific hail of machine-gun fire the Coalshires were almostdecimated. Bodies, riddled with bullets, were hanging from the wire,their clothing held by the tenacious barbs. Contradictory ordersadded to the confusion, while to make matters worse the Huns beganfiring gas-shells into the wavering troops.

  The quick eye of the Wheatshires' Colonel took in the situation.Another regiment, hitherto held in reserve, was advancing to assistin the holding of the mine-crater in anticipation of the usualcounter-attack. For the time being the reinforcements must make goodthe advantage won by the battalion already in possession of theposition.

  At the word of command the Wheatshires swung out of the capturedcrater and charged the flank of that part of the German trenches leftintact.

  Almost before he realized it Setley found himself in a traverse, thefurthermost end of which was packed with Huns, whose attention wasmainly directed upon the disordered Coalshires on their immediatefront.

  With bayonet and bomb the attackers cleared the front three bays ofthe trench, the surviving Germans either bolting from their dug-outsor throwing up their hands with the now familiar cry of "Mercy,Kamerad."

  Briefly the situation was as follows. On a front of nearly four milesthe British had advanced a distance averaging eight hundred yardswith the exception of half a mile of trenches before which theCoalshires had been held up. This section, strongly defended, was atough nut to be cracked, but now surrounded on three sides, the Hunshad either the option to resist to the last man or surrender. For thepresent they chose the former alternative, conscious that by holdingout they were deferring the general advance of the British troops.

  "Clear those dug-outs!" shouted a captain to No. 3 Platoon.Experience had taught him the inadvisability of leaving a nest ofarmed Huns behind the advancing Tommies.

  "Out you come!" shouted Alderhame, flattening himself against theconcrete sides of the first dug-out and pointing his rifle down theflight of steps leading to the deep subterranean retreat.

  With his bayonet at the "ready" Setley took up his stand at theopposite side and awaited the result of his comrade's challenge,while George Anderson covered the mouth of the dug-out with a Millsbomb. "Ja! We come!" shouted a guttural voice from the deep recesses.

  "And be mighty sharp about it," rejoined Alderhame.

  But instead of the head of a procession of grey-coated Huns withupheld hands a bomb came hurtling from the dug-out. With the fusesizzling briskly the missile dropped midway between Setley and theex-actor.

  In a trice Alderhame threw himself flat upon the ground. Setley,hardly realizing the danger, stood stockstill, his bayonet stilldirected toward
s the mouth of the dug-out. In another second----

  With a muffled bang the bomb exploded. Ralph had a momentary visionof a khaki-clad Tommy being lifted five or six feet from the groundand subsiding almost at his feet. Simultaneously George Andersonhurled his missile straight into the cavernous recesses of thedug-out with disastrous results to the former occupants. "'Urt?"enquired Ginger laconically, as he assisted the fallen Tommy to hisfeet. It was Penfold, dazed and shaken, but otherwise unhurt.

  Seeing the bomb lying on the ground Penfold, with admirable presenceof mind, snatched up a sand-bag, threw it upon the missile and hadheld it in position until the explosion took place. This sand-bagresisted the disastrous effect of the bomb, although the detonationwas sufficient to blow the intrepid Penfold some feet into the air.

  "Good for the D.C.M.," yelled Alderhame. "Come on, lads. Let's see ifany of the swine are still in this rat-hole."

  "Give 'em another bomb first," suggested Ginger. "Stand by, 'eregoes."

  The men waited until the reverberations of the explosion had diedaway; then looked at each other enquiringly.

  "Come on," shouted Alderhame, unfixing his bayonet and placing hisrifle against the concrete face of the dug-out. Then, borrowing abomb from the obliging Anderson, he led the way into the undergroundrefuge, while Setley following, closely at his heels, flashed a torchover his comrade's shoulder.

  The place reeked vilely of sulphurous smoke. It had been lighted byelectricity, but the concussion had shattered the bulbs. The Hun whohad hurled the bomb was lying across the fifth step. A little lowerdown two more were huddled lifeless against the walls. Another,dangerously wounded, raised one hand in a mute appeal for mercy.

  "All right, Fritz," said Alderhame. "We won't hurt you any more."

  This was apparently the last of the original occupants of thedug-out. For thirty-five steps the two chums descended cautiously,while at some distance behind came Penfold, Anderson and another manbeing left to guard the entrance in case an over-zealous Tommy tookit into his head to throw down a bomb "just for luck."

  "Look out!" cautioned Setley. "There's someone still there."

  Muttered guttural words and suspicious scuffling confirmed Ralph'sstatement. The ex-actor made ready to pull out the safety pin of thisbomb.

  "Surrender!" he shouted, "or I'll blow the crowd of you to Hades."

  "Don't," was the reply. "I've got them properly set. I'm anEnglishman--a Wheatshire."

  "Hurrah!" exclaimed Alderhame, while Setley gave vent to a whoop ofsurprise and satisfaction, for the voice was that of Sidney Bartlett.

 
Percy F. Westerman's Novels