Mr. Standfast
tried to picture it, and to see the roads running up to the line, and
wondered just at what points the big pressure had come. They had told
me in Paris that the British were as far south as the Oise, so the
bombardment we had heard must be directed to our address. With
Passchendaele and Cambrai in my mind, and some notion of the
difficulties we had always had in getting drafts, I was puzzled to
think where we could have found the troops to man the new front. We
must be unholily thin on that long line. And against that awesome
bombardment! And the masses and the new tactics that Ivery had bragged
of!
When we ran into the dingy cavern which is Amiens station I seemed to
note a new excitement. I felt it in the air rather than deduced it from
any special incident, except that the platform was very crowded with
civilians, most of them with an extra amount of baggage. I wondered if
the place had been bombed the night before.
“We won’t say goodbye yet,” I told the others. “The train doesn’t leave
for half an hour. I’m off to try and get news.”
Accompanied by Archie, I hunted out an R.T.O. of my acquaintance. To my
questions he responded cheerfully.
“Oh, we’re doing famously, sir. I heard this afternoon from a man in
Operations that G.H.Q. was perfectly satisfied. We’ve killed a lot of
Huns and only lost a few kilometres of ground.... You’re going to your
division? Well, it’s up Peronne way, or was last night. Cheyne and
Dunthorpe came back from leave and tried to steal a car to get up to
it.... Oh, I’m having the deuce of a time. These blighted civilians
have got the wind up, and a lot are trying to clear out. The idiots say
the Huns will be in Amiens in a week. What’s the phrase? ‘_Pourvu que
les civils tiennent._’ “Fraid I must push on, Sir.”
I sent Archie back with these scraps of news and was about to make a
rush for the house of one of the Press officers, who would, I thought,
be in the way of knowing things, when at the station entrance I ran
across Laidlaw. He had been B.G.G.S. in the corps to which my old
brigade belonged, and was now on the staff of some army. He was
striding towards a car when I grabbed his arm, and he turned on me a
very sick face.
“Good Lord, Hannay! Where did you spring from? The news, you say?” He
sank his voice, and drew me into a quiet corner. “The news is hellish.”
“They told me we were holding,” I observed.
“Holding be damned! The Boche is clean through on a broad front. He
broke us today at Maissemy and Essigny. Yes, the battle-zone. He’s
flinging in division after division like the blows of a hammer. What
else could you expect?” And he clutched my arm fiercely. “How in God’s
name could eleven divisions hold a front of forty miles? And against
four to one in numbers? It isn’t war, it’s naked lunacy.”
I knew the worst now, and it didn’t shock me, for I had known it was
coming. Laidlaw’s nerves were pretty bad, for his face was pale and his
eyes bright like a man with a fever.
“Reserves!” and he laughed bitterly. “We have three infantry divisions
and two cavalry. They’re into the mill long ago. The French are coming
up on our right, but they’ve the devil of a way to go. That’s what I’m
down here about. And we’re getting help from Horne and Plumer. But all
that takes days, and meantime we’re walking back like we did at Mons.
And at this time of day, too.... Oh, yes, the whole line’s retreating.
Parts of it were pretty comfortable, but they had to get back or be put
in the bag. I wish to Heaven I knew where our right divisions have got
to. For all I know they’re at Compiegne by now. The Boche was over the
canal this morning, and by this time most likely he’s across the
Somme.”
At that I exclaimed. “D’you mean to tell me we’re going to lose
Peronne?”
“Peronne!” he cried. “We’ll be lucky not to lose Amiens!... And on the
top of it all I’ve got some kind of blasted fever. I’ll be raving in an
hour.”
He was rushing off, but I held him.
“What about my old lot?” I asked.
“Oh, damned good, but they’re shot all to bits. Every division did
well. It’s a marvel they weren’t all scuppered, and it’ll be a flaming
miracle if they find a line they can stand on. Westwater’s got a leg
smashed. He was brought down this evening, and you’ll find him in the
hospital. Fraser’s killed and Lefroy’s a prisoner—at least, that was my
last news. I don’t know who’s got the brigades, but Masterton’s
carrying on with the division.... You’d better get up the line as fast
as you can and take over from him. See the Army Commander. He’ll be in
Amiens tomorrow morning for a pow-wow.”
Laidlaw lay wearily back in his car and disappeared into the night,
while I hurried to the train.
The others had descended to the platform and were grouped round Archie,
who was discoursing optimistic nonsense. I got them into the carriage
and shut the door.
“It’s pretty bad,” I said. “The front’s pierced in several places and
we’re back to the Upper Somme. I’m afraid it isn’t going to stop there.
I’m off up the line as soon as I can get my orders. Wake, you’ll come
with me, for every man will be wanted. Blenkiron, you’ll see Mary and
Peter safe to England. We’re just in time, for tomorrow it mightn’t be
easy to get out of Amiens.”
I can see yet the anxious faces in that ill-lit compartment. We said
goodbye after the British style without much to-do. I remember that old
Peter gripped my hand as if he would never release it, and that Mary’s
face had grown very pale. If I delayed another second I should have
howled, for Mary’s lips were trembling and Peter had eyes like a
wounded stag. “God bless you,” I said hoarsely, and as I went off I
heard Peter’s voice, a little cracked, saying “God bless you, my old
friend.”
I spent some weary hours looking for Westwater. He was not in the big
clearing station, but I ran him to earth at last in the new hospital
which had just been got going in the Ursuline convent. He was the most
sterling little man, in ordinary life rather dry and dogmatic, with a
trick of taking you up sharply which didn’t make him popular. Now he
was lying very stiff and quiet in the hospital bed, and his blue eyes
were solemn and pathetic like a sick dog’s.
“There’s nothing much wrong with me,” he said, in reply to my question.
“A shell dropped beside me and damaged my foot. They say they’ll have
to cut it off.... I’ve an easier mind now you’re here, Hannay. Of
course you’ll take over from Masterton. He’s a good man but not quite
up to his job. Poor Fraser—you’ve heard about Fraser. He was done in at
the very start. Yes, a shell. And Lefroy. If he’s alive and not too
badly smashed the Hun has got a troublesome prisoner.”
He was too sick to talk, but he wouldn’t let me go.
“The division was all right. Don’t you believe anyone who says we
didn’t fight like heroes. Our outpost line held up the Hun for six
hours, and only about a dozen men came back. We could have stuck it out
in the battle-zone if both flanks hadn’t been turned. They got through
Crabbe’s left and came down the Verey ravine, and a big wave rushed
Shropshire Wood.... We fought it out yard by yard and didn’t budge till
we saw the Plessis dump blazing in our rear. Then it was about time to
go.... We haven’t many battalion commanders left. Watson, Endicot,
Crawshay....” He stammered out a list of gallant fellows who had gone.
“Get back double quick, Hannay. They want you. I’m not happy about
Masterton. He’s too young for the job.” And then a nurse drove me out,
and I left him speaking in the strange forced voice of great weakness.
At the foot of the staircase stood Mary.
“I saw you go in,” she said, “so I waited for you.”
“Oh, my dear,” I cried, “you should have been in Boulogne by now. What
madness brought you here?”
“They know me here and they’ve taken me on. You couldn’t expect me to
stay behind. You said yourself everybody was wanted, and I’m in a
Service like you. Please don’t be angry, Dick.”
I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t even extra anxious. The whole thing seemed to
have been planned by fate since the creation of the world. The game we
had been engaged in wasn’t finished and it was right that we should
play it out together. With that feeling came a conviction, too, of
ultimate victory. Somehow or sometime we should get to the end of our
pilgrimage. But I remembered Mary’s forebodings about the sacrifice
required. _The best of us_. That ruled me out, but what about her?
I caught her to my arms. “Goodbye, my very dearest. Don’t worry about
me, for mine’s a soft job and I can look after my skin. But oh! take
care of yourself, for you are all the world to me.”
She kissed me gravely like a wise child.
“I am not afraid for you,” she said. “You are going to stand in the
breach, and I know—I know you will win. Remember that there is someone
here whose heart is so full of pride of her man that it hasn’t room for
fear.”
As I went out of the convent door I felt that once again I had been
given my orders.
It did not surprise me that, when I sought out my room on an upper
floor of the Hôtel de France, I found Blenkiron in the corridor. He was
in the best of spirits.
“You can’t keep me out of the show, Dick,” he said, “so you needn’t
start arguing. Why, this is the one original chance of a lifetime for
John S. Blenkiron. Our little fight at Erzerum was only a side-show,
but this is a real high-class Armageddon. I guess I’ll find a way to
make myself useful.”
I had no doubt he would, and I was glad he had stayed behind. But I
felt it was hard on Peter to have the job of returning to England alone
at such a time, like useless flotsam washed up by a flood.
“You needn’t worry,” said Blenkiron. “Peter’s not making England this
trip. To the best of my knowledge he has beat it out of this township
by the eastern postern. He had some talk with Sir Archibald Roylance,
and presently other gentlemen of the Royal Flying Corps appeared, and
the upshot was that Sir Archibald hitched on to Peter’s grip and
departed without saying farewell. My notion is that he’s gone to have a
few words with his old friends at some flying station. Or he might have
the idea of going back to England by aeroplane, and so having one last
flutter before he folds his wings. Anyhow, Peter looked a mighty happy
man. The last I saw he was smoking his pipe with a batch of young lads
in a Flying Corps waggon and heading straight for Germany.”
CHAPTER XXI
How an Exile Returned to His Own People
Next morning I found the Army Commander on his way to Doullens.
“Take over the division?” he said. “Certainly. I’m afraid there isn’t
much left of it. I’ll tell Carr to get through to the Corps
Headquarters, when he can find them. You’ll have to nurse the remnants,
for they can’t be pulled out yet—not for a day or two. Bless me,
Hannay, there are parts of our line which we’re holding with a man and
a boy. You’ve got to stick it out till the French take over. We’re not
hanging on by our eyelids—it’s our eyelashes now.”
“What about positions to fall back on, sir?” I asked.
“We’re doing our best, but we haven’t enough men to prepare them.” He
plucked open a map. “There we’re digging a line—and there. If we can
hold that bit for two days we shall have a fair line resting on the
river. But we mayn’t have time.”
Then I told him about Blenkiron, whom of course he had heard of. “He
was one of the biggest engineers in the States, and he’s got a nailing
fine eye for country. He’ll make good somehow if you let him help in
the job.”
“The very fellow,” he said, and he wrote an order. “Take this to Jacks
and he’ll fix up a temporary commission. Your man can find a uniform
somewhere in Amiens.”
After that I went to the detail camp and found that Ivery had duly
arrived.