The door at the foot of the tower had been built up by a great pile of
sandbags, leaving a narrow embrasure in the corner--a mere slit like
that of an exaggerated slot in a pillar box.
But that slit commanded the street, and from it came that continuous
stream of lead which had stayed the Highlanders' attack. It was an
isolated fortress, and, so far, none of our troops had reached it; but a
few resolute men might accomplish much, and Dennis bent down.
"We'll have a go at it, Hawke," he said. "But we'd better have half a
dozen." And as Hawke and Tiddler crawled back out of the firing-line,
Dennis called four others by name, and beckoned them to follow him
behind the ruins of an adjoining house.
"We're going to take that gun, boys," he said.
"There are two guns, sir," corrected one of the men.
"Then we're going to take both of them," said Dennis; and, stooping down
on his hands and knees, he crawled through the ruined gardens, only
pausing as they came to a gap where there was no cover, and darting
across it to the shelter of the next heap.
Two such openings they negotiated successfully, but as they crossed the
third a German bullet smashed the water bottle at Hawke's hip.
"My bloomin' luck!" he grinned. "And me wiv a thirst I wouldn't sell for
'arf a crown, 'cos it's honestly worth three-and-six. Look out, sir!
We're coming level with the church now." And, glancing to their left as
they lay flat, they saw a curl of smoke wreathing out of the embrasure,
and another succession of little puffs above it, which told them that
the second gun had been hoisted to the first floor of the ruined belfry.
Dennis raised himself on his hands and reconnoitred carefully. The air
was full of sound. The rifle-fire behind them mingled with the
continuous rattle of the guns they had planned to capture, and yet not
an enemy was to be seen, although they knew that there were thousands of
them hidden away in their immediate neighbourhood. Now all depended on
their gaining the back of the church unseen.
Far away on the right they could hear an English cheer, and knew that
the battalions on that flank of the brigade were making good, while
their own portion of the line was held up.
In front of them lay a team of dead horses, attached to the fragments of
a wagon, and the flies were buzzing about them. A little farther on was
a German reservist on his back with his knees up, and the flies were
busy with him too. The rest was an extraordinary wilderness of shattered
homes and shell craters, which seemed of no possible value to anybody,
but it had to be captured, and time was flying.
"You see that third heap in front of us?" said Dennis. "We'll make for
that, and, if we reach it, then dash straight across the open for the
back of the church, and leave the rest to chance. It's rotten work
fighting broken bricks and mortar, but there it is; it's got to be
done."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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