A Lively Bit of the Front: A Tale of the New Zealand Rifles on the Western Front

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XIX

  Trapped in a Dug-out

  "I will, sir!" said Malcolm promptly.

  "And I," added Selwyn.

  "Me too," chorused M'Turk and M'Kane.

  "And, by gum, how about me?" enquired a lusty voice, as RiflemenJoliffe, bleeding profusely from the head, sat up and vainlyattempted to regain his feet.

  The other New Zealanders had forgotten Grouser Joliffe, or ratherthey had put him out of their minds until the clearing-up job wascompleted. One and all had taken it for granted that the riflemanhad paid the penalty for his rashness, and had been shot dead on thespot. Had they known that he was only wounded they would have rushedto his aid, but, thinking otherwise, they had no intention ofattending to the dead until the wounded were cared for and theposition properly consolidated.

  It was Joliffe's steel helmet that had saved him. The German'sbullet, fired at a range of ten yards, had struck the upper part ofthe rim and deflected upwards, completely penetrating thehead-dress, while the wearer escaped with a scalp wound, renderinghim unconscious for a quarter of an hour.

  "Another day, Joliffe!" sang out Captain Nicholson. "See to him, youfellows. Now then, Carr, keep close behind me. M'Turk, M'Kane, andSelwyn at three paces interval."

  With a revolver in his right hand, and an electric torch in hisleft, the Captain, bending low, began the descent of the steepflight of steps leading to the dug-out. By this time the noxiousvapours had exhausted themselves, although there was stillsufficient smoke to dim the rays of the torch.

  Rifle and bayonet at the ready, Malcolm followed his officer, hisears on the alert to catch the first sound that might denote thepresence of other Hun cave-dwellers.

  As he descended, Malcolm found that the smoke was dispersing underthe influence of a steady draught of warm air. The tunnel washeavily timbered--top, sides, and floor. Along one side ran a coupleof insulated wires, one of which belonged to an electric alarm-bell.The other was for internal lighting, but every incandescent bulb hadbeen shattered under the terrific concussion of the great Messinesmine. In places the massive planks were bulging ominously; so muchso that Captain Nicholson hesitated more than once.

  "What do you make of it, Carr?" he asked, pausing at a particularlybad spot.

  "I hardly know, sir," replied Malcolm. "Since the shorings didn'tcollapse when the mine went up, they ought to stand for a bitlonger."

  "Suppose so," agreed the youthful officer as he resumed his tour ofdiscovery. "Sort of 'creaking door hangs longest'. Let's hope so inthis case."

  At the ninety-eighth step--Malcolm counted them carefully--thedescent ended. The daring five found themselves in a long room,measuring about eighty feet by ten. On one side were recesses thatformed, as they afterwards discovered, the lower part of thelift-tunnel communicating with the open air. At one time the lifthad been used for bringing up machine-guns that were stored deepunderground in anticipation of a heavy bombardment of the Britishguns. Each recess was piled high with rubble, the result of thestupendous concussion, while a dozen intact machine-guns had beenprevented from being brought into action against the attackinginfantry.

  In the opposite wall were other recesses, panelled and furnishedwith rich curtains and hangings. Each recess contained a wiremattress and bedding, while articles of a personal nature showedthat the former occupants were officers, and not of the rank andfile.

  "I believe we've struck the brigade headquarters," said CaptainNicholson, flashing his torch into a large recess in which stood atable littered with book and papers. "We'll attend to thosedocuments later. No use doing so until we've made sure of ourground. I wonder where the gilded occupants are?"

  "From what I know of the blighters, sir," remarked M'Turk, "theydidn't show their mugs above ground while we were tumbling over thetop."

  "Perhaps there's another way out--a sort of bolt-hole," suggestedSelwyn. "Hope they haven't ruined the show?"

  "No likely," replied Captain Nicholson briskly, "As for your idea ofa bolt-hole, there's something in that. It would account for thatfellow in that sardine-can suit holding out so long, just to givethem time to get clear. Ssh! Ssh! What's that?"

  The men stood on the alert for some moments.

  A muffled cough broke the silence. Then came the dull thud of a pickbeing driven into soft earth.

  "This way," ordered the Captain, striding towards the end of theroom. "Get a bomb ready."

  "Not a blessed one between the lot of us, sir," reported M'Kane."Thought we'd finished with Mills's pills for a bit. I'll nip backand get a few."

  Captain Nicholson hesitated.

  "No need," he decided. "The fellows, whoever they are, are trapped.They'll give in when they find that the game's up."

  In the panelled wall, so skilfully fashioned that it almost escapedattention, was a door. The New Zealanders stopped and listened.Voices were heard talking excitedly, to the accompaniment of thetearing of paper.

  Thrusting his torch into his breast pocket, the Captain, holding hisrevolver ready for instant action, threw open the door.

  Another long room showed beyond the doorway. At the farther end atable extended almost from side to side. On the floor were severallighted candles that cast an unaccustomed glare upon the faces of adozen German officers. Some of them were engaged in burningdocuments, others in tearing up books and plans. Right at the farend two men were attacking a fall of debris by means of pick andshovel.

  This much Malcolm took in at a glance, as with levelled rifle hesupported his captain.

  "Surrender!" shouted Captain Nicholson sternly.

  "Not so fast," replied a Prussian, speaking in English, and withhardly a trace of a foreign accent. "Let us discuss the situation."

  "By all means," agreed Captain Nicholson, confident that he held thewinning cards.

  The Hun who had spoken was carefully noting the strength of theintruders. He had a particular object in gaining time.

  "You are too premature, Herr Kapitan von Anzaken," he continuedslowly. The boot is on the other leg. You are our prisoners._Nein_--do not get excited--consider: you are but a handful. We arefourteen, all armed. In there"--he indicated a doorway on hisleft--"are fifty tons of explosives, so I would not have you throw abomb, for our sakes and yours. Again, I have but to touch thisbutton and the tunnel to the dug-out by which you made your approachwill be blown in. We have particular need of you, since your friendswill hesitate twice before attempting to smoke us out with you here.Now, to avoid further unpleasantness, you will throw down your armsand make surrender."

  "I'll see you to blazes first!" retorted Nicholson. "Hands up,or----"

  Like a flash a dozen hands went up--but each hand held an automaticpistol! The New Zealand officer made no attempt to back. Outwardlycalm, he stood erect on the threshold, with his four men closebehind him.

  Confronting him were the obviously excited Huns. Even the slightpressure of a trembling finger upon the trigger of one of theautomatic weapons would mean death to the imperturbable Nicholson.

  "I give you ten seconds to surrender!" he exclaimed.

  "And I give you five to throw down your arms!" retorted the Prussianmajor. "One--two--three----"

  Crash!

  A blinding flash seemed to leap up from the floor, and, with adeafening roar bursting upon his ears, Malcolm was dimly consciousof being hurled backwards by a terrific blast, then everythingbecame a blank.

  He regained his senses to find himself in utter darkness. He waslying on the floor with his shoulders and head leaning againstsomething aggressively hard. Acrid fumes assailed his nostrils. Hetried to move, to find a heavy, inert body lying across his legs.

  Groping to find out the nature of his surroundings, his hand came incontact with his uncomfortable pillow. It was a pair of hobnailedboots. As he thrust them aside the wearer stirred.

  "What's up, Sergeant? Another stunt?"

  It was M'Turk, wandering in his mind. Evidently he was under thehallucination that the Platoon sergeant was rousing him at anunearthly
hour of the morning.

  "Where are we, M'Turk?" asked Malcolm.

  The Digger grunted.

  "Ask me another, chum," he replied, coughing after every word. "Bygum! I remember--those swine of Huns and fifty tons of explosives.Well, we're still alive and kicking, so to speak. Where are theothers? The Captain?"

  "Someone lying across my legs," replied Malcolm. "Our captain, Ifancy. Have you a match?"

  "Have I a match?" repeated M'Turk mirthlessly. "A dozen boxes in mydug-out. Came with me last parcel--but ne'er a one on me. Where'sthat torch?"

  Sitting up, Malcolm bent forward and searched the man who waspinning him down. He was wrong in his surmise. It was not CaptainNicholson, but one of the riflemen. In one of his pockets Carr founda squashed box containing three or four precious matches.

  The first match fizzled and went out.

  "Damp, like everything else except my throat!" muttered M'Turk. "Icould drink half a gallon at one go. Try again, chum."

  At the second attempt the flickering light struggled bravely for themastery, then out it went.

  "Two more," announced Malcolm.

  "Hold on," ejaculated his companion. "I've a paper. I'll tear off apiece, and you can set it alight--if your matches aren't all duds!"

  This time the attempt was successful. In the glare of the burningnewspaper Malcolm made the astonishing discovery that GrouserJoliffe was lying across his legs, while nearer the room in whichthe German staff officers had been was Dick Selwyn, leaning againstthe wainscot and breathing stertorously. The faces of both men wereblack with smoke and dirt. There were no signs of Captain Nicholsonor M'Kane.

  "Old Grouser, by gum!" exclaimed M'Turk. "How in the name ofeverything did he get there?"

  "Give it up!" replied Malcolm, as he made his way to Selwyn's side."There are a lot of things that want explaining in this hole."

  "Say what?" prompted his companion, tearing a fresh strip from thenewspaper and rolling it into a rough-and-ready torch.

  "Where are Fritz & Co.? Where is our officer? How is it that I wasnext to him, and now Selwyn is nearer the door; while Joliffe, whois supposed to be on the way to the dressing-station, is here? Andwhat about the fifty tons of explosives?"

  M'Turk staggered to his feet and made his way to the entrance to theinner room. The door had been wrenched from its hinges; from theroot ferro-concrete girders had fallen, bringing with them a pile ofdebris that completely covered the table. Of the Huns, all wereburied beneath the mound of earth, unless they had been blown topieces by the explosion.

  "Not so much as a Hun's button left as a souvenir!" reported M'Turk."Hope our mates haven't been kyboshed. Yet it seems to me that iffifty ton of stuff did go up we wouldn't be here now--except inlittle bits."

  "That's what puzzles me," admitted Rifleman Carr. "Perhaps only aportion of the explosives went off. Again, who propped you andSelwyn up against the wall?"

  M'Turk made another roll of crumpled paper.

  "Won't last out much longer at that rate!" he remarked ruefully."Hallo! What's that?"

  A couple of dull concussions were distinctly felt. In the innerportion of the spacious dug-out more rubble slid noisily from thecaving-in roof.

  "Fritz getting to work again," said Malcolm. "They are shelling thecaptured position."

  "And following it up with a counter-attack," added M'Turk. "Strikesme our chaps won't have any time to attend to us for a bit."

  "I did the job properly that time--a bit too properly?" exclaimedGrouser Joliffe, who had recovered consciousness and was taking alively interest in the conversation.

  "You did what?" enquired M'Turk.

  "I wasn't going to be done out of the fun," said Joliffe doggedly."Didn't I draw that little tinpot's fire, and give you a chance tobutt in?"

  "You did, like a blooming idiot!" agreed M'Turk.

  "So when you fellows _impshied_ down the tunnel I slipped in afteryou. You wanted looking afters just fancy, nosing around a dug-outand not taking any bombs. I kept out of sight while the Captain wastaking stock, knowing he'd send me back if he twigged me. Then, whenthe Boches tried to hold you up, I nipped behind and slung a bomb at'em. By gum! It was a beauty, though for the life of me I don't knowhow we got blown out here. It wasn't my bomb that played a dirtytrick like that, and it wasn't fifty tons of high explosives. Sowhat was it? Anyone got a drink? My throat's like blotting-paper."

  "The last of the paper," announced M'Turk. "Any of you fellows gotsome more? No; well, I'll nip round to see if I can find any. I'd assoon set the show on fire as stick here in the dark."

  "There's someone coming," declared Malcolm.

  "Where?" enquired M'Turk and the bomber simultaneously.

  The sound of footsteps grew nearer and nearer, the rays of a torchflashed on the ground, and Captain Nicholson's voice was heardexclaiming:

  "It's no go that way, M'Kane. We'll have to make the best of things;but it's no use denying the fact that we're trapped."