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Page 11
"The massed attack!" exclaimed Wharton. "What courage! Nobody was ever
more willing to die for victory than these Germans!"
Even in the moment of danger and utmost excitement he could not refuse
tribute to the enemy. Nevertheless he snatched up a rifle and was firing
as fast as he could into the gray ranks. John and Carstairs were doing
the same and the trench held by the Strangers was a continuous red
blaze. There was so much fire and smoke and so much whirling snow that
John could not see clearly. He was a prey to illusions. Now the Germans
were apparently at the very edge of the trench, and then they were
further away than he had first seen them. The white gloom was shot with
a red haze, and the shouts of soldiers, the commands of officers and
groans of wounded were mingled in a terrible turmoil of sound. But John
knew that the Germans would be driven tack. Only surprise could have
enabled them to win, and the vigilance of the French scouts had put
their commanders on guard.
Captain Colton walked up and down the trench, his face ghastly white,
although it was the flare of the searchlight and not any retreat of the
blood that made it so. Now and then under the frightful crash of the
rifles and machine guns he addressed brief words of warning and
encouragement to his men:
"Don't raise your heads too high! Keep cool! Aim at something! Here they
come again! Fire low!"
All of John's pulses were throbbing hard with excitement. He wished the
Germans would go back, and his wish was prompted--less by the desire of
victory than the sickening of his soul at so much slaughter. Why would
their leaders continue to hurl these simple and honest peasants upon
that invincible line of rifles and machine guns? The dead and wounded
were piling up fast in the driving snow, but the willing servants of an
emperor came on as steadily as ever to be killed. So much slaughter for
so little purpose! The height of battle, excitement and danger, could
not keep him from thinking of it.
Occasionally a man fell in the trench and lay in the mud and snow, but
the others never ceased for a moment to send bullets into the gray
masses which fell back only to come on again. Nothing but modern
weapons, machine guns from which missiles fairly flowed in an unending
stream, and rifles which a man fired as fast as he could pull the
trigger could check them. "Why don't they stop! Why don't they stop!"
John was shouting to himself through burned lips, and again he shuddered
with sick horror, when he saw a whole line of men blown away, as if they
had been grain swept by a tornado.
Once they came to the very edge of the trench to be slain there, and
the body of a German fell in at John's very feet. He never knew how many
times they charged, but human flesh and blood must yield, in the end,
before unyielding steel, and at last through the crash and confusion the
notes of trumpets sounded. Then the German masses melted away and the
heavy white gloom once more enveloped the ground before the trenches
from which came faint cries. The wounded lay thickly there with the
dead, but neither side dared to go for them. An upright human figure
would draw at once a hail of bullets.
Several machine guns still purred and crackled, but no reply came.
Presently they, too, ceased, and the silence in front was complete, save
for the faint groans and the swish of the drifting snow. John shivered,
and it was not with cold. His feeling of horror was increasing. Many men
had been killed and as many maimed, and he was sure that all of them had
fallen for nothing.
"It's a victory," said Carstairs, "isolated and detached, but a victory
nevertheless."
"So it is," said John, "but it's just a little segment on a vast curving
line of four hundred miles. Maybe the Germans have taken a trench
somewhere else."
"And maybe we have, at yet another point. This isn't much like the war
we've read about, is it, Scott? A great battlefield, vast batteries
blazing, long lines of infantry in brilliant uniforms advancing, twenty
thousand cavalry charging at the gallop the earth reeling under the
hoofs of their horses!"
"No, it's just murder in the dark."
[Illustration: "Once they came to the very edge of the trench to be
slain there"]
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