CHAPTER XIX.
THE ATTACK.
The reconnoitering cavalry of the advancing forces gave way to groups ofinfantry, scattered in loose formation, feeling their way toward theGerman trenches. The points and small flanking parties of the advanceguards, in front of each column of advance, crept along with strainingeyes in search of the enemy's line of observation.
A few hundred yards to the rearward the supports advanced alertly, readyto scatter into a thin line of skirmishers at the first shot and rushahead to where the points halted. In the rear of them the infantrycolumns, with one rumble of artillery close to the front, moved andhalted, as the thin line to the front paused for a moment to scan ahead,then pushed on again.
Out of the stillness of the dew-dripping woods in front, the shot came.There was no reply for a moment, then two or three closer reports rangloud in reply; then there came another pause, and as the hurryingsupports deployed and flung themselves behind the nearest cover, inmomentary scanning before pushing ahead to investigate decisively, therecame a short, ragged volley from out ahead.
The reports were flat and dull, as a rule, but a few cracked viciouslyas though fired close at hand. These last followed the vacuum oflow-flying bullets and had a spat and twang of their own.
For weeks these two armies had been facing each other; for a weekassault had wrestled with counter assault and the armies had striventime after time to snatch an advantage from a massing of columns, or aseeming check.
For miles to right and left, every road, every footpath, every few yardsof broken ground was trodden by the feet of short columns, prepared tocharge into lines at the needed moment, when the fire of the enemybecame a menace. The trenches were abandoned in the rear, yet should thecolumns in the rear, which by the heads formed a long, long line ofsupports, be hurled back in repulse after an unsuccessful attack, thetrenches would be greeted as comfortable old friends and reoccupied.
The leading columns deployed into thin lines, with short intervalsbetween the men, as the shrapnel broke. From out the blur of themingling of landscape and sky there came, simultaneously, a whir, acrash, and the quick dash of shrapnel balls over the ground, and of thebrief flash which marked the shrapnel's burst there remained only adimly-seen lingering cloud of dirty smoke and some silent, writhingforms on the ground.
Then came crash after crash, as the hostile artillery opened instrength. The silence of the morning fled into a hideous din as theinfantry broke into a dog trot and pushed ahead.
There came a clank of trace chains and the pounding of hoofs minglingwith hoarse commands as the artillery of the Russians wheeled out ofcolumn to position in battery, the ring of hastily-opened breechblocks,the hollow thump of the blocks closing and the shrill notes of a silverywhistle. Then the earth began to tremble.
Thunderbolt after thunderbolt seemed to be discharging close in therear, until the very trees shook and men swayed under the compression ofair in the vicinity. Over the heads of the silent infantry, shrapnelshrieked in reply, one after another, as the batteries opened withsalvos from flank to flank.
Through the gaps between the belching batteries poured the infantry, thecolumns dashing forward until, beneath the trajectory of the guns, itwas safe to spread out in the always thin line of the infantry advance.The leading lines pushed on till they disappeared in the yet dim light,and at a short distance behind them came others, until it seemed thatthe end would never come, and that a hurrying city was passing.
Ahead, the leading infantry line, absorbing the scattered men of thefirst light contact line, halted at command under the mounting riflefire of the enemy, halted and flung itself prone, while ready handsreached backward for intrenching tools, and the line scraped, clawed,scooped and burrowed into the fresh earth in shallow pits, and wentabout its business of returning the German fire.
Then a second thin line ran up and merged with the first. Again shoveland small mattock came into play and the volume of fire redoubled. Abovethe cracking of the rifles the only sounds to be heard were the sharpwhistles of the officers. They shrilled in a variety of notes andcombinations, yet with an understood speech of their own, for in partsof the line the fire slackened and two or three men left their shelterand crept forward a few paces; or, crouching down low, dashed aheaduntil the whistles spoke again.
Intrenching tool again; then fire. That was the order of the advance.More men crept or rushed to the new position to dig themselves into theground and open fire, until the entire line had advanced a few yardsunder the hostile shots and a new line occupied the shelter trenchesrecently abandoned.
Here and there lay quiet forms across the path of advance. The hardybodies in the well-fitting uniforms seemed pitilessly small and theirclothing hung in baggy folds. Their comrades passed them by with hardlya glance. The litter sections were far to the rear, for their time wasnot yet. Duty called for assault, not for succor.
The thunder of the contending batteries continued. Over the hastilycarved trenches the hostile shrapnel scorched their way, singing alongwith a note of wild rage, searching the crevasses and folds of theground and scoring the earth.
But the Russian infantry still advanced.
Quietly filling the gaps that had grown in the firing line since theattack commenced, the supporting lines came to the front. Each accessionof reenforcements seemed to give an added impetus to the forwardmovement, for upon the arrival of each fresh contingent the line surgedahead like breakers on a coast, and, like the incoming tide, each surgeleft its mark higher upon the strand.
With a calmness which bespoke experience, despite the light of battlewhich blazed in their eyes, the new men brought and distributed freshbandoliers of ammunition to those who had gone before, then took theirplaces alongside to aid in its expenditure. The lines were not straight.They zigzagged a trifle. There was no time for chalk-mark adjustment orinspection, and the moment a panting body struck the ground after aforward rush, the earth began to fly on the spot beneath the chop of thetrench-digging tools, and the hot rifles to speak.
Men growled, muttered and shouted. Under the fighting fog that beseteach one in its own way, there came snatches of song, humming andwhistling. There were those, too, who fought silently, as though deeplywrapped in thought, and there was bickering when a hasty comrade crowdedtoo close for free operation of the flying breechbolts; yet the faceswere ever turned to the front, except when they turned to the sky or theearth, and nerveless hands fell sprawling with half-emptied rifles.
Where officers, binoculars in hand, bent hastily to the line, mendetached themselves at intervals, and clawing at their belts, seized thewire cutters pendant there and crawled forward. Now and then one of thecreeping ones would spring into the air and topple over, but the rest,apparently paying no heed, continued on their way toward where theGermans had erected wire entanglements to hold the stormers under theblast of the enemy's fire.
Ahead, the trenches of the Germans crackled and spat with fury, and evenunder the ceaseless rain of shrapnel from above the assaulting lines theenemy kept his place. The firing line had thickened until it was a solidmass, one man deep, and in the rear line after line had sprung to itsfeet and was closing up in support to the crucial assault. At thetrenches of the defenders, batteries, with horses falling and being cutaway in an instant, dashed to the line, unlimbered and poured in theirscattering salutations of zero shrapnel to the men in front.
Came a clank and rattle of bayonets snapped onto the muzzles of theassaulting line; then, with a last frenzied emptying of magazines, thelines sprang to foot, and with hoarse voices screeching at top note, theslender line charged forward.
The trenches were lined with the defenders in an instant. The rifle fireredoubled in intensity and the artillery, which had come up to stem thetide, or assault when the supporting batteries of the attack werecompelled to hold their fire for fear of obliterating their ownattacking lines, barked at four-second intervals, opening great gaps inthe racing line at every discharge.
In rear of the sup
porting lines of the assault, which were closing up ata dead run, galloped the batteries which were to make a rallying pointin case the assault failed, or occupy the trenches, should the defendersbe driven out, and the cannoneers clutched the side rails as the piecesswayed and rocked across the rough ground and clustered bodies whichstrewed the field.
At the crest of the parapet the lines, attack and defense met with aring of steel. Bayonets flashed, darted, parried and struck. Rifle buttswhirled above bare heads and the stocks crashed down through bone andflesh. From both sides came a rain of hand grenades, bombs whichexploded upon touch. From the rear of the trenches there came runningformed troops, to assist in the repulse of the Russians, and as thesupporting lines of the attack threw themselves into the fray, thewhirling, struggling, fighting lines on the trenches' top thickened andswayed.
The line sagged, bulged, trembled, and broke in huge gaps. Into thesplaying breaches there rushed fresh troops from front and rear, and thelines thickened and swayed again. Men discarded their arms to lock inone another's embrace, fighting to the last.
The din was deafening, yet above it there rang out the detonation andshock of a great explosion, where a delayed mine belched upward underthe pressure of the hastening troops coming up with the attackingreserve. Earth, stones, wire entanglements, arms and men shot upward ina dense geyser of death, and came down in the midst of the fiercefighting.
Then the line broke again, and the shattered reserves of the attack,summoning the last resources, poured into the breach with bayonet andmagazine.
The defense gave way.
Crumpled under the last despairing hurling of last reserves, theentrenched line shuddered along its length, then the line lost itscohesion, stood irresolute for a moment, then fled precipitately to therear.
The whistles of the Russian officers blew again and again. Officers hadfallen until corporals and sergeants commanded platoons and companies;yet they, too, had their whistles and knew their duties; and out of thescramble of the attack, regardless of company, regiment or brigade, theRussians fell into rough line, knelt, and opened fire upon the routedenemy, while the supporting batteries dashed to the trenches, unlimberedand belched fire and iron into the fleeing mass.
The standards of the Russians, which had changed hands a dozen times,during the course of the assault, were planted on the works; the troopsthemselves, exhausted and spent by the might and fury of their efforts,threw themselves into tired heaps as other brigades came up to hold theposition.
The trenches were won!
Boy Allies with the Cossacks; Or, A Wild Dash over the Carpathians Page 19