The Golden Age of Science Fiction Novels Vol 04

by Anthology

  Chapter X

  Headquarters In Manchuria

  ON a certain cold, bright morning in early March, General St. John, commander-in-chief of the Federation forces in northern Manchuria, studied a map of the district occupied by his troops and puffed at his pipe the while with every indication of contentment. The General and his staff had taken exclusive possession of the new European Hotel which raised its brick walls prominently amid the buildings of the riverside settlement of Harbin Quay, and from the windows of his comfortable quarters the Commander-in-Chief could look out upon the frozen surface of the Sungari and the clean-cut lines of the great railway bridge which spanned the river at this point. But river, bridge, and town were old stories to the ruddy-faced General, while the map told a tale ever changing and new which, though still in its early chapters, seemed to the optimistic reader to hold the promise of a happy ending as every good story should.

  A barrier of coloured lead blocks eighty-five miles to the south of Harbin, showed where the 9th corps straddled the Manchurian railway and held the line of the upper Sungari against the 50,000 men of the first Chinese army. To the southeast another row of blocks marked the position of General Petrovich and the 11th corps, which, with its left resting on Kirin, commanded the headwaters of the Sungari and the terminus of the Kirin branch railroad and could attack the enemy on the right and rear when the proper moment should arrive. On the seacoast, the 1st division of General von Erlen's 20th corps held Vladivostok, while the 2nd division was still pouring into Harbin at the rate of 1,000 men a day.

  "And I don't see," mused St. John to himself half aloud, "why this campaign shouldn't make me von Weber's successor. It stands to reason that the important work will be done here in the north. All the southern army will have to do will be to keep the Turks out of Europe and when this business is decided, they'll surrender fast enough — oh, come in! Come in!"

  At this permission, the door opened quickly, admitting the burly form of Hathorn, the Chief-of-Staff.

  "Beg pardon, General, but the Germans caught a man trying to sneak into our lines last night. He said he had important information and after General von Erlen had examined him, he thought he'd better send him to you."

  "Oh, all right! Bring him in. By the way, Hathorn, has von Erlen received any message from Koch this morning?"

  "Just the usual one, sir."

  "Everything quiet on the coast?"

  "Everything quiet, sir."

  "— As I expected. We won't hear anything from the Japs as long as Vladivostok harbour's frozen up. Well, bring in your prisoner."

  The General refilled his pipe and assumed a judicial attitude as Hathorn ushered in a fur-clad, unkempt individual with his arms bound securely behind him. At first glance, the resemblance of the prisoner to a wild animal was startling, for besides the furry garment which completely covered his body, his face was nearly hidden by a matted growth of long yellow hair from under which two keen blue eyes surveyed the General with considerable interest.

  "General St. John?" enquired this extraordinary being in excellent English, before the Commander-in- Chief had time to recover from his momentary surprise.

  "I have some news that may interest you, General."

  "Good Lord!" exclaimed the astonished officer; "who in the devil's name are you?"

  "My information is of more importance than myself, I think," replied the prisoner calmly. "Briefly, it's this. Two weeks ago, the Japanese landed two divisions with artillery and cavalry a little to the south of Possiet Bay by means of air transports, of which they apparently had a large number. They marched northward and, sending a flying column in advance of their main force, cut General Koch's line of communication and captured the railroad. Vladivostok surrendered after holding out for five days and the Japanese are now coming down the railroad as fast as they can with between 60,000 and 70,000 men to take you in the rear and capture Harbin."

  For a minute or so the General stared at his informer open-mouthed, and then suddenly burst into loud and prolonged laughter.

  "Gad, sir," he exclaimed, wiping the tears of merriment from his eyes; "do you really believe for an instant that I'm going to swallow any such cock-and-bull story as that? Why, we've been receiving wires from Koch every day saying that he hasn't seen hair nor hide of the enemy. Did you see that message that came in this morning, Hathorn?"

  "Yes, sir," replied the officer addressed. "It read, 'All quiet here. No sign of the enemy anywhere.'"

  "Well," inquired the General triumphantly, "that's definite enough, isn't it? What can you say to that?"

  "Is there any reason why the Japanese couldn't have sent those messages themselves to keep you from growing suspicious?" returned the prisoner, unmoved. "General Koch was surrounded and cut off before he had the slightest warning that anything was wrong. What would be the object in the enemy trying to surprise you if you knew all about it beforehand? They planned this move too carefully for that."

  "But damme, sir," roared the General, growing red in the face, "d'ye think a thing like that could go on and I hear nothing of it? Koch couldn't have been beaten as easily as that. There isn't an airship made that could transport guns heavy enough to batter down those forts — And even if it did happen, he'd have contrived to get word to me somehow."

  "How could he? He only had a few scout 'planes and no big airships at all. The Japs got his 'planes with their anti-aircraft guns before he realised what was up, and their dirigibles dropped kellinite bombs into his forts. When I left the city, he had abandoned his works and was trying to cut his way through to the north with his division — or rather, what was left of it."

  "But if he was surrounded so that, according to your story, a flea couldn't have crawled through the lines, how in the devil did you get here?" shouted the General, pounding his table angrily. "And who in hell are you, anyway? I tell you, sir, you've a damned good deal of explaining to do if you don't want to stand up against a wall facing a firing squad."

  "I got here because I knew how to keep out of sight in the first place, and am well acquainted with the country, in the second," replied the prisoner coolly, apparently undisturbed by the threat. "As to who I am, I don't see why that should concern you as long as my information is correct. As you seem to doubt its accuracy, however, I might remind you that it's easy enough to prove the truth of what I say by sending two or three air scouts out to the east."

  The General leaned back in his chair, mastering his exasperation with an effort. "What do you think of this remarkable tale, Hathorn?" he asked at length, sweeping the papers with which his table was littered to one side with a furious gesture.

  "I think, sir," said the Chief-of-Staff respectfully, "that it's hardly plausible, but still quite possible. As the prisoner says, it's a simple matter to send out scouts and learn the real truth."

  "Look here," said the General, suddenly struck with an idea; "suppose this man's a spy — that's possible, isn't it? Suppose he's been sent to frighten me with this wild story into abandoning my position on the upper Sungari and ordering Michaloff and the 9th corps back here to protect the base. Michaloff can get here in three days if he has to, with the help of the railroad, but then the Chinese could advance up the river towards Kirin and outflank Petrovich, and the Lord only knows what would become of the 11th corps then. I tell you, Hathorn, that sounds a good deal more satisfactory to me than anything this man has said so far."

  He would have said more, but at that moment an orderly entered announcing General von Erlen, and immediately afterwards the grizzled head and worried countenance of the veteran corps commander himself appeared.

  "Ah, General," he exclaimed, quickly taking in the situation, "you are examining my prisoner, hein? It is very disturbing, the news which he brings, is it not?"

  "My God!" uttered St. John fervently; "you don't mean to tell me that you've been taken in by his inconceivably idiotic tale, von Erlen?"

  "So?" said the German. "That is how it goes then? You do not think it
is the truth that he tells?"

  "Is every one crazy here but me?" shouted the General. "Now you —" He paused abruptly, as von Erlen shrugged his shoulders.

  "I do not command here," said the old German quietly; "but if I did—"

  "Well, if you did what in the devil would you do about it?"

  "I would begin digging trenches on the east so fast as ever I could and I would at once send to General Michaloff to come with his best speed, and then I would send out air scouts to see if this man tells the truth."

  "Yes, and God help Petrovich and the 11th corps if Michaloff did come."

  "Petrovich is not a fool. If the 9th corps can hold the Chinese, the 11th also can, providing they are warned in time to prevent a flanking movement. Is it not of more value to sacrifice a few men than to risk the whole army and your lines of communication besides? See, General," he went on, bending forward and speaking more earnestly, "I believe what this man says. Why should he lie? Detection is too certain. Send out your scouts immediately and by to-night you will know the truth, but also do not lose a moment in making ready your defences and, above all, order Michaloff to come to your assistance. Even if he begins to move at once, he can leave enough men to hold his lines until night comes and by that time you will know."

  St. John tugged at his heavy moustache irresolutely, but before he could speak, the telephone on his table rang sharply and he hastily caught up the instrument, glad of a momentary diversion.

  "Hello! What's that, Luttrell?— General Michaloff attacked in force? — All right, I understand. — Wire him to keep me informed."

  He snapped the receiver back onto its hook and turned to the others. "You heard, gentlemen? It would be utter folly to abandon that position now for a mere rumour."

  "But, sir," protested Hathorn, "don't you think this attack is a feint to keep Michaloff too far away to help you when the Japanese come?"

  "'When the Japanese come?'" repeated St. John rather contemptuously. "So you've been infected by the panic, too?"

  "I agree with General von Erlen, sir," retorted Hathorn with some heat; "and I think that not a moment should be lost in taking proper precautions."

  "And I don't see why 'proper precautions' should include giving up my whole plan of campaign. No, gentlemen, I've decided. Michaloff stays where he is until I see more necessity for his moving than I do now."

  "But, General," pleaded the Chief-of-Staff, "nothing in this whole wide world that we can do will save the army if we haven't men enough, and I firmly believe that without General Michaloff and the 9th corps —"

  "No!" thundered the Commander-in-Chief; "I've made up my mind once and for all and that settles it." He paused an instant to collect himself and then continued more calmly, "Hathorn, send out two scouts to the east and see what you can find out and see that this prisoner is carefully guarded — we may want him again. Von Erlen, you can start digging trenches as long as your men have nothing else to do. And now, if you please, gentlemen, I'm busy."

  The old corps commander shrugged his shoulders protestingly, but left the room without another word, closely followed by General Hathorn, escorting the prisoner, and St. John turned to his work again with an air of relief. But as the day wore away into twilight and the star-relieved blackness began to cloak the town, he became uneasy, and at length reaching for his telephone he called up his Chief-of-Staff.

  "Heard from those scouts yet, Hathorn?"

  "No, sir, and I don't half like it. They should have been back an hour ago."

  "Whom did you send?"

  "Captain Bagworthy and Lieutenant Forsythe, sir. They're the best we have."

  "All right. Let me know directly they come in."

  "Very well, sir."

  Again the General turned to his map, although he had studied it so often that in all probability he could have re-drawn it and indicated the position of each battalion and battery with perfect accuracy had he been so minded. But, "Damme!" he burst out obstinately, "I'm not going to call in Michaloff just on suspicion. It'd mean the loss of two months' hard work and probably all for nothing. Von Erlen's an old fool. If we played safe all the time, we'd never get anywhere."

  But protest as he would, St. John could not free his mind from the vague doubts and fears that assailed it, and when the little travelling-clock on his table announced the hour of midnight and still no word from the scouts had been reported, he rose from his chair angrily repeating for the tenth time that evening that von Erlen was an old fool — only on this occasion he offered as an afterthought that he himself was another — and stamped through the corridor and down the stairway to the big drawing-room, which had been converted into a working-place for his staff.

  Down one side of the room ran a long, unpainted wooden table at which several non-commissioned officers of the signal corps sat in front of chattering telegraph instruments. At the further end of the table, a little battery of telephones was connected with the central switchboard in another part of the building. Through these, when he so desired, St. John could communicate with the headquarters of each battalion, battery, or squadron in his command.

  The General swept the group of busy staff officers with a swift glance and then, as a fair-haired Englishman, wearing the three diamonds of a colonel on his shoulder-straps, rose from his place and saluted, he asked briefly for General Hathorn. The Chief-of-Staff had gone to General von Erlen's headquarters.

  "Tell him I want him," ordered St. John briefly, and while his command was being transmitted, he took up the file of orders sent out during the day and began idly running through the thick mass of yellow slips. Suddenly he paused with a startled oath and roughly jerking two of the thin sheets from the clip which held them, thrust them under the light of a green-shaded electric bulb. And as he read, his face grew dark with anger and the veins in his temples swelled into purple ridges. Here and there an officer raised his head in astonishment and as he caught the expression of the General's features, mentally braced himself for the expected outburst. But before the storm could break, the thick hangings of the doorway were quickly pushed aside and General Hathorn strode into the room. He hesitated as he sensed the tense atmosphere of the apartment and as his eyes focussed themselves upon the form of his commander, his face gradually paled under its heavy coating of bronze.

  "General Hathorn," began St. John in a voice terribly calm, "I find here an order, with my name attached, directing General Michaloff to abandon his position and move northward to the support of the troops here. Will you have the goodness to explain this?"

  "I sent that order on my own responsibility, General," returned the Chief-of-Staff steadily, though his cheeks were white and the perspiration stood out in tiny drops on his forehead.

  "And why," went on the General in a cold fury, "should you take it upon yourself to do such a thing when you knew it was against my wishes — yes, even against my express commands?"

  "I thought it best," began Hathorn hurriedly. "It seemed the only way to save the army — and you wouldn't see the danger — I was sure when the scouts returned that I would be justified —"

  "That's enough!" thundered St. John, crashing his heavy fist on the table. He paused a moment, fighting for his composure, and continued in tones all the more fearful because of the suppressed rage with which they were charged, "I suppose you realise that I can have you shot for this. You may consider yourself under arrest. Colonel Luttrell, see that this man is carefully guarded until I have time to deal with his case. You will act as chief-of-staff until your appointment is confirmed or you are relieved."

  "But, sir," pleaded the condemned officer, "at least wait until —"

  "Enough, sir!" said St. John harshly; "I command here!"

  Obstinate and self-willed as he might be, dictatorial as he often was, there was yet something of grandeur about this savage old commander, and a little ripple of appreciation ran through the encircling throng of staff officers. With all his faults, their General was unquestionably a man.

&nbs
p; In silence General Hathorn bowed his head and unbuckling his sword, offered the scabbarded blade to his successor. The latter stretched forth his hand to receive it, when a sudden commotion in the hallway without arrested him and the weapon clattered to the floor unnoticed. The sharp challenge of a sentry rang out, followed by exclamations and hurried footsteps in the echoing corridor. The curtains were thrust aside roughly and supported by the arm of the sentinel, an officer staggered into the room. There was clotted blood on his cheek and on his left side, his leather jacket was discoloured by a broad stain which spread with every choking breath he drew. For an instant he stood swaying, gazing at the eager circle with glazed eyes. Then —

  "They're coming!" he gasped, and twisting from the restraining arm of the soldier, pitched forward in an untidy heap on the floor.

  Through the rising tumult, the harsh voice of the General could be heard issuing swift commands and an instant later an officer wearing the red cross band on his arm pushed through the crowd and knelt above the wounded aviator.

  "Make him speak, doctor," said St. John curtly. "You'll have plenty of time to patch him up afterwards."

  The surgeon nodded as he jabbed the silver needle of a hypodermic into the hairy arm, and the wounded man groaned and opened his eyes.

  "You say they're coming?" prompted the General, leaning tensely forward.

  The aviator silently assented and breathed more strongly as the stimulant took effect.

  "How far away are they?"

  "About forty miles — they're coming on like hell — cavalry and horse artillery in advance — trains bringing up the infantry and heavy guns — they were looking out for us — some of their 'planes were hidden in a valley — rose behind us to cut us off — got Bagworthy directly — chased me 'way to the south before I could get free— God!"

  He clenched his hands in a spasm of pain and his eyes closed again. The surgeon, syringe in hand, looked up inquiringly.

  "That'll do, doctor. Try your best to save him. Hathorn, you'll give me your parole and resume your duties until this business is settled. Tell General von Erlen to scrape up every non-combatant he can put his hands on for his trenches and save his soldiers as much as he can. Tell General Michaloff of the hole we're in and ask him to hurry. Wire Khailar to side-track everything else and rush through ammunition and heavy guns. If you haven't done so already, warn Petrovich that his right flank is left unprotected and to look out for himself. Come up to my quarters when you're through and bring that prisoner with you."