Hubbard, L. Ron (5 page)

The tunnel dipped and, for a little way, they sloshed knee-deep in water.

Shaggy Corporal Carstone, in charge of the machine-gun company, clucked like a mother hen as he got his precious charges over the rough places; for while water could do no harm, the tanks were so worn and thin that one stumble might put them out of action, filled as they were with their full weight of air.

Now and then the lieutenant struck his flint to find a chalk mark on the wall and thus determine the right turn, and Malcolm began to realize that the place had been recently mapped. Malcolm, following the shadow of the cloak, was struck by the expression which each flint flash revealed upon the lieutenant's face. For the lieutenant had a twinkle in his eye and a sardonic smile upon his lips, as though he was hugely enjoying this business.

Malcolm's ear caught the sound of firing each time they passed an observation slot, and it began to come to him that the cartridge-filled brush was burning gradually, thus acting a's a time fuse on the bullets.

In truth it sounded as though the clearing far back was bitterly defended.

He eyed the lieutenant with renewed respect. But for all that the lieutenant was not a known quantity to him. None of these scattered officers were. They seemed to be without nerves, impervious to all anxiety, able to subsist upon nothing. He had heard something of the officers of yesterday; how they had driven unwilling troops with a drawn pistol and a lash, how they had carried out the stupid orders which always led to slaughter against heavily fortified objectives. He had heard, too, that many an officer had been found with a bullet in his back. But that was yesterday, a yesterday a fifth of a century dead. A yesterday when prisoners had been shot to avoid giving them rations, when every slightest spark of gallantry had been swallowed in the barbaric lust of battle which had swept the Continent as madness might sweep through a pack of dogs.

It was not that the lieutenant was kind. He merely did not care. His men did not belong to a government but to himself; just as he belonged to them. It seemed that all men with nerves had died of them, leaving a strange corps of beings above such things as human weakness and death, men who had evolved for themselves a special art of living. Malcolm had no hopes for the mercies of the lieutenant; they did not exist. And he was thinking to himself, following that cape, that the race of fighting men, while laudable in many ways, had degenerated in others. Their love of battle was quite finished and bravery was a word. For what better evidence could he have than this fact of the lieutenant's running away from a force because it had field pieces?

A question annoyed Malcolm. They were outward bound from the last encampment. But had they any destination? What would they do for food?

Ahead a hazy blur of light became apparent. Weeds had choked the exit from the fortress, and the roof had fallen until it was necessary to crawl belly down on the rubble to get out.

The lieutenant made a cautious survey. Ahead stretched an indistinct trench which had once communicated with the rear. It had been dug in a sloping ravine which fell away to the north. They had come through the hill on which the Russians had established their PC.

Stepping aside, the lieutenant passed his men out. Hardly a shrub waved to mark their presence in the trench. They did not group, but faded into cover until a very small space, apparently quite empty, actually contained the whole force.

"Pollard, take the east slope," whispered the lieutenant. "Toutou
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where are you?"

"Here the same, mon lieutenant," said Toutou, crawling out.

"You waited for contact?"

"Yess, mon lieutenant. Zey are ssso young, so many."

"Very well. Take the west slope. Work up toward the crest and in one half hour by the sun you will hear our signal to attack. Carstone, wait here in case there is any firing from above and cover our retreat if necessary. If we are successful, come up quickly with your guns. Weasel, locate their baggage; take six men and be very quiet when you take the sentries. "

"Right, sit."

"Pass the word. First Regiment with Pollard, Second with Toutou, Third with me. Remember, no firing, only wires, clubs and knives. And do not kill their commander or the staff."

The word was passed like a gentle draft of air. Then Pollard was gone and a third of the brigade melted away. Toutou's third vanished without a sound. The lieutenant thrust a stick into the earth to watch its shadow.

The sun was still very low and the mist over the valleys had not wholly burned away. From over the ridge came the clatter of rifle fire and the occasional dull thump of grenades.

Presently the lieutenant signaled with his hand and slid out of the trench and through the underbrush toward the crest. Malcolm stayed by Carstone.

Spread thin, the Third Regiment slithered silently upward. They could not yet see the crest, for the way was long and there were several false ridges. This hillside was very uneven, pock-marked with shell holes now very indistinct. Everywhere before the advance, rabbits scurried and dived into cover. They were avoided by the soldiers for the reason that they carried a deadly sickness, and though all were probably immune, it was not good to take chances. Only the birds with which the Continent now teemed were good prey, but the soldiers were so nauseated by their meat by now that they seldom took the trouble to set snares.

A squeal, scarcely started before it was stopped, told of some providential soul picking up a pig of the type which had long forgotten its domestication. These were too rare to be overlooked, but First Sergeant Hanley, a tough Scot nominally commanding the Third Regiment, went slipping off on a tangent to reprimand the act.

Mawkey; who had scuttled ahead, came back now, his evil eyes bright with excitement. "They all face south. There are about six officers and a guard of thirty soldiers. The artillery is over to your right in an old field-gun emplacement."

"Gian," whispered the lieutenant to an Italian sergeant with a perpetually hungry look, "take a company over and stand ready to squash the gunners between Toutou and yourself when he comes

Up bobbed Gian. "I hope they have rations."

"Who ever heard of a Russian who had anything to eat?" said the lieutenant. "On your way."

Gian was there and then wasn't there. Aside from the distant firing, there was no sound. The battery above had ceased to bellow some time ago, being uncertain of the positions of its own troops.

The lieutenant glanced at the sun and then thrust another stick into the center of a flat place and measured the shadow with the spread of his hand just to be sure. He had three or four minutes left of the half-hour. He pulled down the visor over his face and the men near him did the same.

There was a slight snicking sound as firing mechanisms were checked and bayonets tested.

More slowly now the lieutenant brought them forward. Mawkey, at his side, was trembling with eagerness as he unrolled his favorite weapon
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a stick to which was attached three lengths of light chain appended by choicely sharp chunks of shrapnel.

They were almost to the crest now, so flat in the tall grass that they were still invisible to the Russians. The lieutenant checked the sun. He whistled the trill of a meadow lark three times, paused and then whistled it again.

There was a yelp of terror, hacked off short, over by the battery. A second later the grass all about the PC. erupted with soldiers. A Russian officer emitted a hysterical string of commands and the thirty men whirled about to be drowned in a sea of charging men. Two or three guns went off. The crew of an alcohol machine gun valiantly tried to slew about their weapon and then, seeing it was no use, tossed down their sidearms.

The commander was a young man of very severe aspect. He started to roar his complaint and then, seeing a way out, leaped toward the lip of the ridge.

Mawkey's weapon wrapped about his legs and he went down. Ruefully he disentangled the weapon and began to massage his shins.

It was all over before the dust had had a chance to rise. Thirty prisoners, one slightly wounded, were disarmed. Toutou came up with the battery crew and reported that Gian was manning the field pieces, which were six, not two.

"No casualties," reported Toutou., grinning.

Pollard, who had been a little tardy, thanks to an unforeseen ravine, was cross. A runner came up from the Weasel to report that all baggage was in hand, but that the Russians had surrendered upon seeing themselves outpointed.

The lieutenant took off his visored helmet, for it was very hot in the sun, and handed it with his cloak to Mawkey, taking the remnant of a British flying cap in return. Now that the Russian commander had regained his composure, the lieutenant called attention to him with a bow.

"I am indebted to you, sie," The, commander, who spoke fair English, bowed in his turn. "I have been outmaneuvered, sir. I congratulate you."

"Thank you. Now hadn't we better recall your troops before they squander all their ammunition on a pile of brush filled with bullets?"

The commander blinked and then recovered, smiling. "So that. was the trick!'

"That is the center of an old fortress system," said the lieutenant.

"I did not know the region."

"Which could hardly be expected. We waited for you for three days."

"I apologize for my underestimate of the troops here. We were sent out some three months ago to carve our way through to the sea and inspect the region in the hope that food can be shipped inland from here."

"There is no food," said the lieutenant. "In fact, if you can forgive such sentiment, we attacked you solely because we were informed you had horses."

"Ah," said the commander, understanding. He turned and rattled an order to an aide who stood by to hoist a recall flag upon further command.

"About the terms," said the commander, "I trust that you follow the custom of these days."

"All prisoners disarmed and released and all impersonal baggage retained."

"Sir, although I dislike having to ask further forbearance from a man I respect, I hope you will allow us to retain our arms. The country through which we have passed is filled with roving bands of soldiers."

"Of course, you will give me your parole," said the lieutenant, "and swear on your honor as an officer to return to your center of government?"

"Certainly. You, perhaps, can give me the data we wish."

"Certainly. And now pardon me. Pollard, man that alcohol gun and send word to our battery to stand by. Have Weasel bring up the baggage train to that ravine below there. Your troops," he said, turning back to the commander, "will be left in possession of their rifles and ammunition. We shall retain the battery and animals and all impersonal baggage."

"Thank you," said the commander, giving the signal to hoist the recall. "We shall begin our return at noon. You wish my troops to remain there in the valley, of course, until they march?"

"Naturally!"

"And you say there is no fertile region between here and the sea?"

"On my honor I know of none. England has exhausted herself and is of no value, and I dare say your own country is in like condition."

"Well
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Sir, may I be frank?"

"Of course!'

"We were not sent anywhere. We are the last of the Imperial White Russian Army which was defeated and thrown out of Moscow five months ago. The new government, I believe, strictly favored isolation and, I am certain, is in no position to favor anything else. There is no government now in Germany, aside from a few scattered officers in places which were not touched by the many waves of crop-destroying insects and disease bacteria. Spheres of isolation are being formed with scorched-earth belts about them. We sought to establish ourselves in Paris, some two weeks' march from here, but there is nothing there but starvation. We sought to reach the coast in the hope that the starvation frontiers had not yet reached there!"

"They have!'

"For your sake I regret it!'

"Where shall you go now?"

"I am not sure, but I am told by stray wanderers that there may be such regions in Italy. We have been living as we could off the land, and we can continue to do so. We seem to be wholly immune to soldier's sickness and for that we are thankful. A serum was developed in Moscow last year and we have all been given it."

"I trust you find such a place in Italy," said the lieutenant, extending his hand.

"And luck to you," said the Russian. He bowed and turned on his heel, marching at the head of his staff and bodyguard down to the waiting troops in the valley below. With them went their own belongings.

The lieutenant watched from his vantage spot for some time and then, regaining his good spirits, made a tour of his brigade, pleased as any commander should be when he has chosen his ground, carried through an elementary bit of strategy and tactics and found that his men still behaved well.

That afternoon, with the Russians gone, the lieutenant's forces tasted the fruits of victory. One and all, they gorged themselves upon dripping roasts of horseflesh, cooked by a prideful Bulger.