CHAPTER V
A Baptism of Fire
At eight o'clock on the following morning the motorcyclistsection--nine in number--was paraded in front of the orderly-room ofFort de Barchon. Already the bulk of the regiments had marched out totake up a position in the trenches between the fortifications and theright bank of the Meuse.
The two English lads had been served out with a dark-blue uniform, withheavy boots and brown gaiters, and had been armed with a Belgianservice revolver--a .45-bore, made by the famous firm of Cockerill ofSeraing.
Already they had been instructed in its use, and had--thanks to theircadet training--met with the approval of their musketry instructor.Their motor-cycles had also been subjected to a critical inspection.The officer--who in civil life had been in the motor industry atLiege--had to report, in spite of slight professional jealousy, thatthe English motor-cycles were fit for service, and almost equal tothose owned by the other members of the dispatch-riding section.
One by one the men were called into the orderly-room, where theyreceived instructions and dispatches, till only Kenneth and Rolloremained.
"Private Ever-r-rest and Private Bar-r-rington," shouted theorderly-room sergeant, sounding his r's like the roll of a drum.
Within they found Major Resimont, and, as befitting their relativerank, the lads saluted and stood at attention.
"Deliver this to Captain Leboeuf at Vise," ordered the Major. "In viewof the German advance, he is to cross the river and impede the enemy asmuch as possible, retiring upon Fort de Pontisse if in danger of beingoutflanked." Then dropping the official voice, he added in English,"Since Madame de la Barre would pay no heed to my request, it isnecessary for strategic reasons to occupy her house. You may now havean opportunity of seeing your sister, Monsieur Everest. There are, Ibelieve, only our pupils there during the holidays. Captain Leboeufwill arrange for them to be sent into Maastricht by train, or by acarriage if railway communication is interrupted. They can thenproceed to Brussels in the ordinary way. You might give this toMademoiselle Yvonne for incidental expenses for herself and her friend,your sister," and the Major handed Kenneth a packet containing a sheafof notes.
"Be cautious," he added. "The Germans have already advanced uponLembourg."
The lads saluted and withdrew. A minute later they were dashing overthe drawbridge, bound on their first duty as dispatch-riders in theBelgian army, though with a semi-official motive.
Away on their right came the rapid booming of light artillery fire.Beyond the woods of Verviers a thick cloud of black smoke rose sullenlyin the heavy air.
Their route lay along a fairly level road bounded on each side by talltrees. In the centre was a strip of _pave_, but between it and theditch on either hand was a dusty path which afforded good going. Thecyclists were soon touching thirty miles an hour, the rapid beats oftheir engines drowning the noise of the distant cannonade.
Once they had to slow down in order to allow a cart to draw up on oneside. The floor of the cart was covered with straw, and on the strawlay some strange objects. The lads did not realize what these burdenswere. They were new to the game of war, but not for long.
Presently they noticed a group of soldiers approaching. Thrice thelads sounded their horns without effect. Again they had to slow down.
"Good heavens! Look!" ejaculated Kenneth.
The men were limping painfully. One had his arm thrown around acomrade's neck, and his head falling limply upon the other's shoulder.Another, his head bound by a blood-stained scarf, was using the butt ofhis rifle as a crutch.
"There's been an action already," said Rollo.
"Yes, and on the Vise road," added his companion. "Let's push on. Ihope we are not too late."
During the slowing-down process the thunder of the guns became horriblydistinct. There was terrific firing in the direction of Argenteau.More, there were heavy Belgian losses, for the men they had just passedwere but the van of a ghastly procession of wounded.
At Argenteau a body of reserves was in possession of the village.Barricades had been hastily constructed, walls of buildings loopholed,and barbed-wire entanglements placed across the road.
"Halte-la!"
Rollo came to a standstill with the point of a Belgian bayonet within acouple of inches of his chest. Kenneth, who was twenty yards in therear, almost as promptly alighted.
"Qui v'la?" demanded the sentry.
"Dispatches for Captain Leboeuf," replied Kenneth.
The man recovered his arms.
"May you have the good fortune to find him!" said he. "Our troops havebeen compelled to fall back in the face of superior numbers. Turn tothe right, then take the first road to the left. It will bring youback to the Vise road."
Following the sentry's direction the lads found that the route wasstill open, although soldiers and peasants were standing ready tobarricade that exit.
A couple of miles farther on the motor-cyclists reached thefiring-line--a comparatively weak detachment of infantry holding ahastily-constructed trench.
Overhead the shrapnel was flying, the iron hail for the most partbursting harmlessly in the rear. On the left the great guns of Fort dePontisse were shelling the dense masses of German troops as they vainlysought to cross the Meuse.
A shell, happily without exploding, struck the pave five yards from thespot where Kenneth dismounted, burying itself in a hole at least twofeet in depth.
"Into the ditch with the bikes," shouted Kenneth; and having assistedRollo to place his steed in a place of comparative safety, he returned,and, helped by his companion, managed to shelter his own cycle.
"What's to be done now?" asked Rollo.
"See if the Captain is with these men. We must hasten: it will be ajolly sight safer in the trench."
Abandoning their motor-cycles, the two lads made their way along theditch, which fortunately ran with considerable obliquity to thedirection of the fire of the German artillery.
At length they reached the trench where the Belgian infantry, takingadmirable cover, were replying steadily to the hail of ill-directedrifle bullets. The only unwounded officer was a slim younglieutenant--a mere boy.
"We have dispatches for Captain Leboeuf, sir," announced Kenneth. "Hewas in charge of an outpost at Vise."
"Vise is all aflame," replied the officer. "No doubt the Captain hascrossed the Meuse. But we are about to retire, so look to yourselves.The enemy is threatening our right flank, otherwise we might hold thistrench for another twenty-four hours."
"Any orders, sir, before we return to Fort de Barchon?"
"Yes; ride as quickly as you can to Saint Andre. The rest of ourcompany is there. Tell the officer in command that I am retiring, andthat unless he falls back he is in danger of being cut off. Youunderstand? Good, now----"
The lieutenant's instructions ended in a faint shriek. His hands flewto his chest, and he pitched forward on his face.
A grizzled colour-sergeant instantly took command.
"Retire by sections!" he shouted. "Steady, men, no hurry. Keep themback as long as you can."
The caution was in vain. While the untried troops were lining thetrench and replying to the German fire, all went well; but at the orderto retire, men broke and ran for their lives. Heedless of the coverafforded by the ditch, they swarmed along the road in the direction ofArgenteau, shrapnel and bullet accounting for half their numbers. Onlythe sergeant, two corporals, and the British dispatch-riders remained.
The Germans, advancing in close formation, were now eight hundred yardsoff.
Without a word the Belgian sergeant crawled along the trench, pickingup the rifles and caps of the slain and placing them at intervals alongthe top of the mound; while the rest, including Kenneth and Rollo, whohad taken possession of a couple of abandoned rifles, maintained arapid magazine fire at the approaching troops.
"Each for himself, mes enfants," said the veteran at length. "One at atime and trust to luck."
With that a corpo
ral cast aside his greatcoat and heavy knapsack. Hewas about to make a plunge through the zone of hissing bullets whenKenneth stopped him.
"There's a ditch farther along," he announced. "We came that way."
The man hesitated, then, communicated the news to his sergeant.
"Come then, mes braves," exclaimed the veteran.
One by one, crawling along the ditch the five made their way, till theygained the comparative shelter afforded by the walls of a ruinedcottage. Proof against bullets, the house had been practicallydemolished by shell-fire.
"We must go back and get our bikes," declared Kenneth. "It's fairlysafe. Those fellows are apparently directing their fire against thosecaps and rifles showing above the trench."
They found their steeds uninjured. In record time they were in thesaddle and tearing along the avenue, which here and there was dottedwith dead Belgians. The wounded had evidently been carried off bytheir comrades.
As they passed the ruined cottage where they had parted from the threesoldiers the latter were no longer to be seen, but a hoarse cry of "Amoi, camarades!" caused Rollo to turn. He alone caught the appeal, forKenneth had secured a slight start and the noise of his engine haddrowned the shout for aid.
"Hold on!" shouted Rollo; but Kenneth, unaware of the call, was out ofear-shot, and doing a good thirty or forty miles an hour.
Leaving his engine still running, Rollo dismounted and made his waytowards the building. Shots were whistling overhead. He crouched ashe hastened, for he had not yet acquired the contempt for the screechof a bullet that the old soldier has, knowing that with the whizzing ofthe missile that particular danger has passed.
Lying against the bullet-spattered wall was the old sergeant. Afragment of shrapnel, rebounding from the masonry, had fractured hisleft ankle.
There was no time for first-aid. The Germans were now within threehundred yards of the abandoned trench. Throwing his arms round thesergeant's body, Rollo lifted him from the ground, then kneeling, hemanaged to transfer him across his back. Fortunately the wounded manwas not very heavy, and the lad, staggering under his burden, carriedhim to the place where he had left his motor-cycle.
Just then came the rapid pop-pop of another motor-bike. Kenneth,having discovered that his chum was no longer in his company, hadreturned.
"Give me a push off, old man," panted Rollo, as he set his burdenacross the carrier and stood astride his steed.
In went the clutch; Kenneth, running by the side of the cycle for a fewyards, steadied the wounded sergeant, who was clinging desperately tothe young dispatch-rider.
"All right, let go!" shouted Rollo.
The bike wobbled dangerously under the unusual burden. The sergeant'sgrip wellnigh destroyed the lad's power of command on the steering.The _zipp_ of a bullet did much to add to the difficulty, andmomentarily Rollo thought that nothing could save him from topplinginto the ditch.
"Let go my arms and catch hold of my waist," he shouted desperately.The sergeant fortunately understood and obeyed; the motor-cycle beganto recover its balance, and as Rollo opened the throttle and increasedspeed it settled down to its normal condition.
On either side the trees seemed to slip past like the spokes of awheel; the pace was terrific, and although the wounded man must havebeen suffering agonies, not a groan came from his lips.
Presently Kenneth rode up alongside, for they were out of range and theroad was no longer encumbered with the fallen. Five minutes later thetwo lads dismounted at the barricade of Argenteau.
Here ready arms relieved Rollo of his burden; soldiers assisted inlifting the cycles over the barrier. As they did so one of thempointed to one of the tool-bag panniers on Rollo's cycle. It waspierced by a bullet.
"Where are you going to?" demanded a major.
"To Saint Andre, to warn a half-company of the 9th regiment to retire,sir."
"It is unnecessary. The men have already rejoined. Return to Fort deBarchon and say that if need be we can still hold the enemy in check,but that we are losing heavily."
Soon they were back again at Argenteau, with instructions for theremains of the badly-mauled regiment to fall back upon the lines ofdefence prepared between the two forts in the north-eastern side of thecircle surrounding Liege.
The invaders had been delayed sufficiently to allow General Leman tocomplete his dispositions. They were yet to learn that even themuch-vaunted German infantry could not afford to despise the gallantBelgians.
"It's a jolly sight better than Rugby, anyway," declared Kenneth, as atthe end of their first day on active service they returned to theirquarters at Fort de Barchon.
But Rollo did not reply. He was thinking of the bullet hole in thepannier of his cycle. It had been a narrow squeak.
The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War Page 5