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Show I 1 " Tjr TTI?n f Tine. telegram fiction 1 1 V XlILlX Jmmm 1 illO By WARWICK DEEPING i out of my flea bag and squat on the edge of the bunk. He heaves himself up. "What's the wheeze? Oh. that! So wa are for it at last" We alt for a moment in ailence listening to that devastating noise. I hear hurried footsteps. Someone shouts down to us. "Captain Brent, sir. We are to stand to." Carless and Glbbs are In charge of the gas center, and Fairfax and I attend to the walking wounded and the evacuation. At first everything Is normal, almost al-most conventionally so, and completely com-pletely according to the plan. The wounded begin to dribble In, are recorded and dressed .and passed down to the road, where they are packed into lorries that have been supplied to us. I do not know what the time Is, but the atmosphere has changed. Shells are falling in and about Blain-court, Blain-court, big, terrifying shells. We hear some of them going overhead and the crash of the explosions. The Boehe big guns are shelling the back areas and the roads. We are getting stretcher cases, terrible cases, men from the transport trans-port lines, and even from a labor battalion as well aa from the forward for-ward area. Glbbs comes up to help us. This wooden building seems full of anguish and horror and blood. I have a feeling that things are going badly. Men are dying on ouc hands. There is confusion and fear in the air. Fairfax comes up to me, "Go and get soms food, Stephen. There's lunch In the mess." Outside the hut I realize that It Is a perfect day and that the aun has eaten un tha mist. Thinex seem I tell him that It is his business not to worry and that we can carry car-ry on. I am feeling better now. perhaps per-haps because the responsibility is mainly mine and I feel like a father toward my friend. We have turned the orderly room into a dressing room. I am at work there when the S.-M. comes in with a worried face. "We've got about 200 walking wounded, sir, In the yard, and no lorries." Where Are Ambulances? "Hell, whege are the lorries and the ambulances?" "The lorries don't come back, air. One ambulance has been ditched and another hit We've only one ambulance in." This is bloody! I go out and find this crowd of khaki in the yard. They are like patient sheep. I know that the one ambulance must be kept for bad cases. Also I know that there is disaster in the air sryl that unlesa these lightly wounded men are got away they may all become prisoners. "Form the men up, S.-M, In the road." They get into some sort of formation for-mation and I give them the best advice I can. "Look here, you lads, you'll have to walk and keep on walking in the right direction. It will be better to atick it and walk than wait for Jerry. Off you go." Soma of them grin at me, but they recognize the rightness of my candor and the poor parade stodges off down the dusty road. Fairfax aends for me. He Is still CHAPTER 24 Apparently our intelligence service ser-vice is convinced that the Germans will attack on this front. The system sys-tem of defense la based on somewhat some-what new lines and consists of a series of strong posts and redoubts arranged in depth. There are supposed sup-posed to be a succession of reserve lines that can be occupied In case of a partial retreat, but Fairfax telle ma that these rearward systems sys-tems are mere ink marka on the map. Wa have had rnither the men nor the time to complete them. I am struck by the emptineaa of the landscape. I should have expected ex-pected these valleys to be packed with troops In view of the Imminent Immi-nent boch offensive. Fairfax, Gibbs and I ride over to have tea with the officers of the 203 F. A. They are a cheery crowd, but their humor causes me furiously to think. Rumor haa it that the Germans possess tanks capable of traveling at 12 miles an honr. How fast can a man run? They laugh and say that they are all in training train-ing for a sprint to the rear. Jesting It Ominous But thla jesting is ominous. Always Al-ways ws have thought of going forward, for-ward, even though our progress might be bull headed and bloody, never of going back. Now even the fighting men talk facetiously of a divisional cross-country race In the wrong direction. I do not Ilka the situation at alL Let such a fooling permeate maasea of men even in jest and a debacle may overtake us. Fairfax and I ma mil Hrfln quieter. I go to the mess and find Bond there eating bully beef and pickles Ha pours me out a whisky. I sit down and push food Into a stomach that feels tight and un-consenting. un-consenting. Last of Fairfax Fairfax appears at the door. "Pour ma out a drink, someone." Bond passes him out a whisky. Ha gulps it down and turns to go back toward the hut He is about 10 yards from ths . mess when I hear that aound in the air. Something Some-thing makea me get up and rush to ths door. I stand there, paralyzed, fascinated. There is a deafening crash, a yellow glare, and a geyser of earth and smoke go up into the sir. I see Fsirfax blown sideways liks a piece of brown rag. The hut Is hidden for a moment Clods of earth are falling on the tin roof of the mesa. When the air clears I see the wooden hut sagging side-waya side-waya aa though soms giant had given It a push. I hear screams. I rush out to Fairfax. He is lying on the ground semiconscious. His steel helmet haa been blown off and ha is smothered la dirt, but I realize with Immense relief that he has been blown over, but not hit Bond has followed me, and I leave him to look after Fairfax and dash on to the hut I expect to find a shambles, but the screams I heard came from the poor, frightened wounded. It ia an amasing eecape, but I realize that this wooden building build-ing baa become impossible and may collapse. Also, it is too terribly exposed. ex-posed. I give orders for it to be evacuated and for all the wounded to be carried down to what ahelter wa can find amid the broken walla. lying down. "I gave ordera for all the wagona to be packed, Steevle, with all the spare equipment and the transport to stand to. Will you see It haa been done?" "Yes, sir." "Officers' kits hsd better be packed and loaded. How ia the situation sit-uation as to wounded?" "We've got them away, sir. Things seem quieter." "Thank God!" Blaincourt haa become atrangely and ominously quiet What does It mean? That our fighting front has been submerged and that the deluge de-luge is upon us? I look at my watch. It is half-past three. I go out and find that our transport S.-M. has all ths G. S. wagons and limber and horse ambulances ready under the ahelter of a wall I see Finch appear and heave my valise onto a wagon. Again Fairfax aends for me. He is sitting up and ahows ma an order that a cyclist messenger has brought from D. H. Q. "Evacuate all wounded and retire at once, Tineourt-Peronne road. Report Re-port position midnight Acknowledge Acknowl-edge receipt of order." Whst a strange rid I this! Soon after 4 o'clock we have evacuated our last casualties, tumbled our remaining re-maining equipment Into the wagons and pulled out across the open country, leaving Blaincourt to the dead. The empty landscape is serenely se-renely sunlit I can see bo troop anywhere, nor hear any sound of war. Wa seam to be alone under this March sky. and it la hard to believe be-lieve that wa are part of an army that is facing disaster. (To be continued Monday) (Copyright 137. for The Telegram) fax ia out with a purpoae and he confides it to me when wo pull up our horses on the creet of a hill. "Rankin haa given m a hint that It would be good policy to reconnol-ter reconnol-ter a line of retreat across open country. The Blaincourt crossroads will probably be shelled to biases If we can cut across the open and strike the Peronne road farther wast we may get away and without casualties. So evsa some of our divisional staff are not optimists, and they must know more than we can know. We ride on and strike no snags in ths wsy of high banks or deep ditches This country haa grassad Itself back to nature and ia firm and solid and capable of carrying wheeled traffic. Fairfax ia satis-fled. satis-fled. In thia dry weather we ahall be able, if necessary, to cut out the Blaincourt crossroads. March 20. Weather serene and sunny. After dinner we play bridge in our funny little garden house of a mess. Gibbs yawns. "What about turning turn-ing in, Steevie? One may as well pile up some sleep. When the show tarts we may not have a chance of shedding our breeches." W ge down to our slit In the earth under the bank and hedge. We undress, get Into our flea bags and Gibbs blows out the candle. Awoke Early In Morning I wake early in the morning. I am not suddenly awake, but gradually grad-ually and drowsily so, and I lie and listen to the rumble and gump of funs. I feel that I have never heard anything quite like It before and Its trsmsndousness and terror. Almost on can feel the earth vibrating as if the thudding shell up yonder were so many gigantic metal feet stamping upon ths soil. And suddenly sud-denly I am acutely conscious and alert Thia la the prelude te the great spring offensive. I sit up. reach for my wrist watch which is hanging oa a nail and hold It la the palm of my hand. The Illuminated Illumi-nated dial telle ma that it ia 20 minutes past S. Gibbs ia snoring. J draw my leg Gibbs is great and so are Simpson and Block. I sea Gibbie humping a man down oa hia back. Thank God for good men in a crisis such as this! I ge to Fairfax. Ha haa been helped into hia dugout and ia lying oa his bed. The shock haa broken him up for the moment He complains com-plains of a cracking head. "Get me some aspirin. Steevie. and don't worry. I shall be all right ia half aa hour." |