For a futile ten minutes pandemonium reigned. Mingled with the rattle of machine-guns, the sharp reports of rifle-shots, and the crash of steel, were shouts of vengeful triumph and the cries of the wounded. Through the eddying clouds of dust and smoke tiles and bricks from the shelled houses flew in showers. Occasionally whole buildings would collapse like a pack of cards, burying the German machine gunners in the ruins. Fires, too, were breaking out to add to the horrors of the scene, while with typical indifference the German artillery were dropping shrapnel and gas-shells in the midst of the pack of swaying and struggling combatants. Beyond the barricade the advance came to a standstill. For a few moments the tide swayed erratically, until the opposing troops were hampered by the dead and wounded. Masses of Germans were hurriedly rushed up through a gap in the otherwise faultless British artillery barrage, and hurled themselves into the fray. The situation looked critical until a brawny Highlander sprang upon the captured barricade and, holding unsupported a ponderous Lewis gun, pumped in a tray of ammunition over the heads of his comrades. Then, with renewed shouts of "Scotland for Ever!" on the part of the Jocks, and the dogged "Stick it, the Wheatshires!" the British swept forward with an irresistible rush. The majority of the Prussians threw down their arms and fled, to find their retreat cut off by other British battalions, who, assisted by the Tanks, had completed the turning movement. Some of the Huns dashed precipitately to their underground retreats, with parties of British bombers hard at their heels to rout them out of their deep dug-outs. The fortress village of Néancourt had fallen, but it was a mere incident in the vast field of operations in connection with the Greater Push. Until the Von der Golz Redoubt was in British hands the day's objective could not be considered as achieved. CHAPTER XIX THE MINED TUNNEL A DOZEN wellnigh breathless Huns, with greasy uniform and battered equipment, struggling to dive into the cellar in which Ralph's Tank had become a "fixture," roused the crew to action. The Germans, with their intimate local knowledge, expected to find a safe retreat, until, to their consternation, they were confronted by the blunt nose of the stranded landship and covered by two maxims that could be brought to bear upon them although unable to be trained over the pile of rubble that lay betwixt the Tank and the street. "Hands up!" shouted Ralph. The order was obeyed instantly. "Ye vos Sachsen!" called out an imploring voice. "Mercy, Kamerad." The statement was a false one, and Setley knew it. "You are Prussians," he replied; "but we'll give you quarter. Keep your hands up. The first man who lowers his arms will be shot."