The Girl from Alsace: A Romance of the Great War, Originally Published under the Title of Little ComradeStevenson, Burton Egbert
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The Girl from Alsace: A Romance of the Great War, Originally Published under the Title of Little Comrade
Stevenson, Burton Egbert
Alsace (France) -- Fiction; War stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
In a level field beside the road a long tent had been pitched, and above
it floated the flag of the Red Cross. Toward it, along the road, came
slowly a seemingly endless line of motor ambulances. Each of them in
turn stopped opposite the tent, and white-clad assistants lifted out the
stretchers, each with its huddled occupant, and carried them quickly,
yet very carefully, inside the tent. In a moment the bearers were back
again, pushed the empty stretchers into place, and the ambulance turned
and sped swiftly back toward the battlefield. Here, too, it was evident
that there was admirable and smoothly-working system--a system which
alleviated, so far as it was possible to do so, the horror and the
suffering of battle.
Stewart could close his eyes and see what was going on inside that tent.
He could set the stripping away of the clothing, the hasty examination,
the sterilization of the wound, and then, if an operation was necessary,
the quick preparation, the application of the ether-cone and the swift,
unerring flash of the surgeon's knife.
"That's where I should be," he said, half to himself, "I might be of
some use there!" And then he turned his eyes eastward along the road.
"Great heavens! Look at that gun."
Along the road below them came a monstrous cannon, mounted on a low,
broad-wheeled truck, and drawn by a mighty tractor. It was of a girth so
huge, of a weight evidently so tremendous, that it seemed impossible it
could be handled at all, and yet it rolled along as smoothly as though
it were the merest toy. Above it stretched the heavy crane which would
swing it into the air and place it gently on the trunnions of its
carriage. Drawn by another tractor, the carriage itself came close
behind--more huge, more impressive if possible, than the gun itself. Its
tremendous wheels were encircled with heavy blocks of steel, linked
together and undulating along the road for all the world like a monster
caterpillar; its massive trail seemed forged to withstand the shock of
an earthquake.
"So that is the surprise!" murmured the girl beneath her breath.
And she was right. This was the surprise which had been kept so
carefully concealed--the Krupp contribution to the war--the largest
field howitzer ever built, hurling a missile so powerful that neither
steel nor stone nor armored concrete could stand against it.
In awed silence, the two fugitives watched this mighty engine of
destruction pass along the road to its appointed task. Behind it came a
motor truck carrying its crew, and then a long train of ammunition carts
filled with what looked like wicker baskets--but within each of those
baskets lay a shell weighing a thousand pounds! And as it passed, the
troops, opening to right and left, cheered it wildly, for to them it
meant more than victory--it meant that they would, perhaps, be spared
the desperate charge with its almost certain death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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