Altsheler Joseph Alexander
The Forest of Swords: A Story of Paris and the Marne
"Yes, I saw it, or at least part of it."
"I came in at the end only. The Taubes were too presuming. They came over into our air, but we repelled the attack, and one, as I can see here, will never come again. I found General Vaugirard, although he is now two or three miles to your right, and when I deliver a message that he has given me I return. But I take you with me now."
John was overjoyed, but he would part from Bougainville with regret.
"Philip," he said, "here is Pierre Louis Bougainville, whom I met that day on Montmartre. All the officers of this regiment have been killed and by grace of courage and intuition he now leads it better than it was ever led before."
Lannes extended his hand. Bougainville's met it, and the two closed in the clasp of those who knew, each, that the other was a man. Then a drum began to beat, and Bougainville, waving his sword aloft, led his regiment forward again with a rush. But the Arrow, with a hard push from the last of the soldiers, was already rising, Lannes at the steering rudder and John in his old place.
"You can find your cap and coat in the locker," said Lannes without looking back, and John put them on quickly. His joy and eagerness were not due to flight from the field of battle, because the heavens themselves were not safe, but because he could look down upon this field on which the nations struggled and, to some extent, behold and measure it with his own eyes.
The Arrow rose slowly, and John leaned back luxuriously in his seat. He had a singular feeling that he had come back home again. The sharp, acrid odor that assailed eye and nostril departed and the atmosphere grew rapidly purer. The rolling waves of air from the concussion of the guns became much less violent, and soon ceased entirely. All the smoke floated below him, while above the heavens were a shining blue, unsullied by the dust and flame of the conflict.
"Do you go far, Philip?" John asked.
"Forty miles. I could cover the distance quickly in the Arrow, but on such a day as this I can't be sure of finding at once the man for whom I'm looking. Besides, we may meet German planes. You've your automatic with you?"
"I'm never without it. I'm ready to help if they come at us. I've been through so much today that I've become blunted to fear."
"I don't think we'll meet an enemy, but we must be armed and watchful."
John had not yet looked down, but he knew that the Arrow was rising high. The thunder of the battle died so fast that it became a mere murmur, and the air was thin, pure and cold. When he felt that the Arrow had reached its zenith he put the glasses to his eyes and looked over.
He saw a world spouting fire. Along a tremendous line curved and broken, thousands of cannon great and small were flashing, and for miles and miles a continuous coil of whitish smoke marked where the riflemen were at work. Near the center of the line he saw a vast mass of men advancing and he spoke of it to Lannes.
"I've seen it already," said the Frenchman. "That's where a great force of ours is cutting in between the German armies. It's the movement that has saved France, and the mind that planned it was worth a million men to us today."
"I can well believe it. Now I see running between the hills a shining ribbon which I take to be a river."
"That's the Marne. If we can, we'll drive the Germans back across it. Search the skies that way and see if you can find any of the Taubes."
"I see some black specks which I take to be the German planes, but they don't grow."
"Which indicates that they're not coming any nearer. They've had enough of us for the present and it's to their interest too to keep over their own army now. What do you see beneath us?"
"A great multitude of troops, French, as I can discern the uniform, and by Jove, Lannes, I can trace far beyond the towers and spires of Paris!"
"I knew you could. It marks how near the Germans have come to the capital, but they'll come no nearer. The great days of the French have returned, and we'll surely drive them upon the Marne."
"Suppose we fly a little lower, Lannes. Then we can get a better view of the field as we go along."
"I'll do as you say, John. I rose so high, because I thought attack here was less possible, but as no enemy is in sight we'll drop down."
The Arrow sank gradually, and now both could get a splendid view of a spectacle, such as no man had ever beheld until that day. The sounds of battle were still unheard, but they clearly saw the fire of the cannon, the rapid-firers, and the rifles. It was like a red streak running in curves and zigzags across fifty or maybe a hundred miles of country.
"We continue to cut in," said Lannes. "You can see how our armies off there are marching into that great open space between the Germans. Unless the extreme German army hastens it will be separated entirely from the rest. Oh, what a day! What a glorious, magnificent day! A day unlike any other in the world's story! Our heads in the dust in the morning and high in the air by night!"
"But we haven't won yet?"
"No, but we are winning enough to know that we will win."
"How many men do you think are engaged in that battle below?"
"Along all its windings two millions, maybe, or at least a million and a half anyhow. Perhaps nobody will ever know."
Then they relapsed into silence for a little while. The Arrow flew fast and the motor drummed steadily in their ears. Lannes let the aeroplane sink a little lower, and John became conscious of a new sound, akin nevertheless to the throb of the motor. It was the concussion of the battle. The topmost and weakest waves of air hurled off in circles by countless cannon and rifles were reaching them. But they had been softened so much by distance that the sound was not unpleasant, and the Arrow rocked gently as if touched by a light wind.
John never ceased to watch with his glasses, and in a few minutes he announced that men in gray were below.
"I expected that," said Lannes. "This battle line, as you know, is far from straight, and, in order to reach our destination in the quickest time possible, we must pass over a portion of the German army, an extended corner or angle as it were. What are they doing there, John?"
"Firing about fifty cannon as fast as they can. Back of the cannon is a great huddle of motors and of large automobile trucks, loaded, I should say, with ammunition."
"You're quite sure of what you say?" asked Lannes, after a silence of a moment or two.
"Absolutely sure. I fancy that it's an ammunition depot."
"Then, John, you and I must take a risk. We are to deliver a message, but we can't let go an opportunity like this. You recall how you threw the bombs on the forty-two centimeter. I have more bombs here in the Arrow—I never fly now without 'em—little fellows, but tremendously powerful. I shall dip and when we're directly over the ammunition depot drop the bombs squarely into the middle of it."
"I'm ready," said John, feeling alternate thrills of eagerness and horror, "but Philip, don't you go so near that if the depot blows up it will blow us up too."
"Never fear," said Lannes, laughing, not with amusement but with excitement, "I've no more wish to be scattered through the firmament than you have. Besides, we've that message to deliver. Do you think the Germans have noticed us?"
"No, a lot of smoke from their cannon fire has gathered above them and perhaps it veils us. Besides, their whole attention must be absorbed by the French army, and I don't think it likely that they're looking up."
"But they're bound to see us soon. We have one great advantage, however. The target is much larger than the forty-two centimeter was, and there are no Taubes or dirigibles here to drive us off. Ready now, John, and when I touch the bottom of my loop you throw the bombs. Here they are!"
Four bombs were pushed to John's side and they lay ready to his grasp. Then as the Arrow began its downward curve, he laid his glasses aside and watched. The most advanced German batteries were placed in a pit, into which a telephone wire ran. Evidently these guns, like the French, were fired by order from some distant point. John longed to hurl a bomb at the pit, but the chances were ten to one that he would miss it, and he held to the ammunition depot, spread over a full acre, as his target.
Now the Germans saw them. He knew it, as many of them looked up, and some began to fire at the Arrow, but the aeroplane was too high and swift for their bullets.
"Now!" said Lannes in sudden, sharp tones.
The aeroplane dipped with sickening velocity, but John steadied himself, and watching his chance he threw four bombs so fast that the fourth had left his hands before the first touched the ground. An awful, rending explosion followed, and for a minute the Arrow rocked violently, as if in a hurricane. Then, as the waves of air decreased in violence, it darted upward on an even keel.
John saw far below a vast scene of wreckage, amid which lay many dead or wounded men. Motors were blown to pieces and cannon dismounted.
"Score heavily for us," said Lannes. "I scarcely hoped for such a goodly blow as this while we were on our way!"
John would not look down again. Despite the value of the deed, he shuddered and he was glad when the Arrow in its swift flight had left the area of devastation far behind.
"We're flying over the French now," he said. "So I expected," said Lannes. "Can you see a hill crested with a low farm house?"
"Yes," replied John, after looking a little while. "It's straight ahead. The house is partly hidden by trees."
"Then that's the place. You wouldn't think we'd come nearly fifty miles, would you, John?"
"Fifty miles! It feels more like a thousand!"
Lannes laughed, this time with satisfaction, not excitement.
"You'll find there the general to whom we reported first," he said, "and he'll be glad to see us! I can't tell you how glad he will be. His joy will be far beyond our personal deserts. It will have little to do with the fact that you, John Scott, and I, Philip Lannes, have come back to him."
The circling Arrow came down in a meadow just behind the house, and officers rushed forward to meet it. Lannes and John, stepping out, left it in charge of two of the younger men. Then, proudly waving the others aside, they walked to the low stone farmhouse, in front of which the elderly, spectacled general was standing. He looked at Lannes inquiringly, but the young Frenchman, without a word, handed him a note.
John watched the general read, and he saw the transformation of the man's face. Doubting, anxious, worn, it was illumined suddenly. In a voice that trembled he said to the senior officers who clustered about him:
"We're advancing in the center, and on the other flank. Already we've driven a huge wedge between the German armies, and Paris, nay, France herself, is saved!"
The officers, mostly old men, did not cheer, but John had never before witnessed such relief expressed on human faces. It seemed to him that they had choked up, and could not speak. The commander held the note in a shaking hand and presently he turned to Lannes.
"Your fortune has been great. It's not often that one has a chance to bear such a message as this."
"My pride is so high I can't describe it," said Lannes in a dramatic but sincere tone.
"Go in the house and an orderly will give food and wine to you and your comrade. In a half hour, perhaps, I may have another message for you."
Both John and Lannes needed rest and food, and they obeyed gladly. The strain upon the two was far greater than they had realized at the time, and for a few moments they were threatened with collapse which very strong efforts of the will prevented. They were conscious, too, as they stood upon the ground, of a quivering, shaking motion. They were assailed once more by the violent waves of air coming from the concussion of cannon and rifles past counting. The thin, whitish film which was a compound of dust and burned gunpowder assailed them again and lay, bitter, in their mouths and nostrils.
"The earth shakes too much," said Lannes in a droll tone. "I think we'd better go back into the unchanging ether, where a man can be sure of himself."
"I'm seasick," said John; "who wouldn't be, with ten thousand cannon, more or less, and a million or two of rifles shaking the planet? I'm going into the house as fast as I can."
It was a building, centuries old, of gray crumbling stone, with large, low rooms, and, to John's amazement, the peasant who inhabited it and his family were present. The farmer and his wife, both strong and dark, were about forty, and there were four children, the oldest a girl of about thirteen. What fear they may have felt in the morning was gone now, and, as they knew that the French army was advancing, a joy, reserved but none the less deep, had taken its place.
John and Lannes sat down at a small table covered with a neat white cloth, and Madame, walking quickly and lightly, served them with bread, cold meat and light red wine. The smaller children hovered in the background and looked curiously at the young foreigner who wore the French uniform.
"May I ask your name, Madame?" John asked politely.
"Poiret," she said. "My man is Jules Poiret, and this farm has been in his family since the great revolution. You and your comrade came from the air, as I saw, and you can tell us, can you not, whether the Poiret farm is to become German or remain French? The enemy has been pushed back today, but will he come so near to Paris again? Tell me truly, on your soul, Monsieur!"
"I don't believe the Germans will ever again be so near to Paris," replied John with sincerity. "My friend, who is the great Philip Lannes, the flying man, and I, have looked down upon a battle line fifty, maybe a hundred miles long, and nearly everywhere the Germans are retreating."
She bent her head a little as she poured the coffee for them, but not enough to hide the glitter in her eye. "Perhaps the good God intervened at the last moment, as Father Hansard promised he would," she said calmly. "At any rate, the Germans are gone. I gathered as much from chance words of the generals—never before have so many generals gathered under the Poiret roof, and it will never happen again—but I wished to hear it from one who had seen with his own eyes."
"We saw them withdrawing, Madame, with these two pairs of eyes of ours," said Lannes.
"And then Poiret can go back to his work with the vines. Whether it is war or peace, men must eat and drink, Monsieur."
"But certainly, Madame, and women too." "It is so. I trust that soon the Germans will be driven back much faster. The house quivers all the time. It is old and already several pieces of plaster have fallen."
Her anxiety was obvious. With the Germans driven back she thought now of the Poiret homestead. John, in the new strength that had come to him from food and drink, had forgotten for the moment that ceaseless quiver of the earth. He held the little bottle aloft and poured a thin stream of wine into his glass. The red thread swayed gently from side to side.
"You speak truly, Madame," he said. "The rocking goes on, but I'm sure that the concussion of the guns will be too far away tonight for you to feel it."
They offered her gold for the food and wine, but after one longing glance she steadfastly refused it.
"Since you have come across the sea to fight for us," she said to John, "how could I take your money?"
Lannes and John returned to the bit of grass in front of the house, where the elderly general and other generals were still standing and using their glasses.
"You are refreshed?" said the general to Lannes.
"Refreshed and ready to take your orders wherever you wish them to go."
John stepped aside, while the general talked briefly and in a low tone to his comrade. He looked upon himself merely as a passenger, or a sort of help to Lannes, and he would not pry into military secrets. But when the two rose again in the Arrow, the general and all his suite waved their caps to them. Beyond a doubt, Lannes had done magnificent work that day, and John was glad for his friend's sake.
The Arrow ascended at a sharp angle, and then hovered for a little while in curves and spirals. John saw the generals below, but they were no longer watching the aeroplane. Their glasses were turned once more to the battle front.
"Ultimately we're to reach the commander of the central army, if we can," said Lannes, "but meanwhile we're to bend in toward the German lines, in search of your immediate chief, General Vaugirard, who is one of the staunchest and most daring fighters in the whole French Army. If we find him at all it's likely that we'll find him farther forward than any other general."
"But not any farther than my friend of Montmartre, Bougainville. There's a remarkable fellow. I saw his military talent the first time I met him. Or I should better say I felt it rather than saw it. And he was making good in a wonderful manner today."
"I believe with you, John, that he's a genius. But if we find General Vaugirard and then finish our errand we must hasten. It will be night in two hours."
He increased the speed of the aeroplane and they flew eastward, searching all the hills and woods for the command of General Vaugirard.
CHAPTER VI
IN HOSTILE HANDS
The task that lay before the two young men was one of great difficulty. The battle line was shifting continually, although the Germans were being pressed steadily back toward the east and north, but among so many generals it would be hard to find the particular one to whom they were bearing orders. The commander of the central army was of high importance, but the fact did not bring him at once before the eye.
They were to see General Vaugirard, too, but it was possible that he had fallen. John, though, could not look upon it as a probability. The general was so big, so vital, that he must be living, and he felt the same way about Bougainville. It was incredible that fate itself should snuff out in a day that spark of fire.
Lannes, uncertain of his course, bore in again toward the German lines, and dropped as low as he could, compatible with safety from any kind of shot. John meanwhile scanned every hill and valley wood and field with his powerful glasses, and he was unable to see any diminution in the fury of the struggle. The cannon thundered, with all their might, along a line of scores of miles; rapid firers sent a deadly hail upon the opposing lines; rifles flashed by the hundred thousand, and here and there masses of troops closed with the bayonet.
Seen from a height the battle was stripped of some of its horrors, but all its magnitude remained to awe those who looked down upon it. From the high, cold air John could not see pain and wounds, only the swaying back and forth of the battle lines. All the time he searched attentively for men who did not wear the red and blue of France, and at last he said:
"I've failed to find any sign of the British army."
"They're farther to the left," replied Lannes. "I caught a glimpse of their khaki lines this morning. Their regular troops are great fighters, as our Napoleon himself admitted more than once, and they've never done better than they're doing today. When I saw them they were advancing."
"I'm glad of that. It's curious how I feel about the English, Philip. They've got such a conceit that they irritate me terribly at times, yet I don't want to see them beaten by any other Europeans. That's our American privilege."
"A family feeling, perhaps," said Lannes, laughing, "but we French and English have been compelled to be allies, and after fighting each other for a thousand years we're now the best of friends. I think, John, we'll have to go down and procure information from somebody about our general. Otherwise we'll never find him."
"We must be near the center of our army, and that's where he's likely to be. Suppose we descend in the field a little to the east of us."
Lannes looked down, and, pronouncing the place suitable, began to drop in a series of spirals until they rested in a small field that had been devoted to the growth of vegetables. Here John at once felt the shaking of the earth, and tasted the bitter odor again. But woods on either side of them hid the sight of troops, although the sound of the battle was as great and violent as ever.
"We seem to have landed on a desert island," said Lannes.
"So we do," said John. "Evidently there is nobody here to tell us where we can find our dear and long lost general. I'll go down to the edge of the nearest wood and see if any of our skirmishers are there."
"All right, John, but hurry back. I'll hold the Arrow ready for instant flight, as we can't afford to linger here."
John ran toward the wood, but before he reached the first trees he turned back with a shout of alarm. He had caught a glimpse of horses, helmets and the glittering heads of lances. Moreover, the Uhlans were coming directly toward him.
In that moment of danger the young American showed the best that was in him. Forgetful of self and remembering the importance of Lannes' mission, he shouted:
"The Uhlans are upon us, Philip! I can't escape, but you must! Go! Go at once!"
Lannes gave one startled glance, and he understood in a flash. He too knew the vital nature of his errand, but his instant decision gave a wrench to his whole being. He saw the Uhlans breaking through the woods and John before them. He was standing beside the Arrow, and giving the machine a sharp push he sprang in and rose at a sharp angle.
"Up! Up, Philip!" John continued to cry, until the cold edge of a lance lay against his throat and a brusque voice bade him to surrender.
"All right, I yield," said John, "but kindly take your lance away. It's so sharp and cold it makes me feel uncomfortable."
As he spoke he continued to look upward. The Arrow was soaring higher and higher, and the Uhlans were firing at it, but they were not able to hit such a fleeting target. In another minute it was out of range.
John felt the cold steel come away from his throat, and satisfied that Lannes with his precious message was safe, he looked at his captors. They were about thirty in number, Prussian Uhlans.
"Well," said John to the one who seemed to be their leader, "what do you want with me?"
"To hold you prisoner," replied the man, in excellent English—John was always surprised at the number of people on the continent who spoke English—"and to ask you why we find an American here in French uniform."
The man who spoke was young, blond, ruddy, and his tone was rather humorous. John had been too much in Germany to hate Germans. He liked most of them personally, but for many of their ideas, ideas which he considered deadly to the world, he had an intense dislike.
"You find me here because I didn't have time to get away," he replied, "and I'm in a French uniform because it's my fighting suit."
The young officer smiled. John rather liked him, and he saw, too, that he was no older than himself.
"It's lucky for you that you're in some kind of a uniform," the German said, "or I should have you shot immediately. But I'm sorry we didn't take the man in the aeroplane instead of you."
John looked up again. The Arrow had become small in the distant blue. A whimsical impulse seized him.
"You've a right to be sorry," he said. "That was the greatest flying man in the world, and all day he has carried messages, heavy with the fate of nations. If you had taken him a few moments ago you might have saved the German army from defeat today. But your chance has gone. If you were to see him again you would not know him and his plane from others of their kind."
The officer's eyes dilated at first. Then he smiled again and stroked his young mustache.
"It may be true, as you say," he replied, "but meanwhile I'll have to take you to my chief, Captain von Boehlen."
John's heart sank a little when he heard the name von Boehlen. Fortune, he thought, had played him a hard trick by bringing him face to face with the man who had least cause to like him. But he would not show it.
"Very well," he said; "which way?"
"Straight before you," said the officer. "I'd give you a mount, but it isn't far. Remember as you walk that we're just behind you, and don't try to run away. You'd have no chance on earth. My own name is Arnheim, Wilhelm von Arnheim."
"And mine's John Scott," said John, as he walked straight ahead.
They passed through a wood and into another field, where a large body of Prussian cavalry was waiting. A tall man, built heavily, stood beside a horse, watching a distant corner of the battle through glasses. John knew that uncompromising figure at once. It was von Boehlen.
"A prisoner, Captain," said von Arnheim, saluting respectfully.
Von Boehlen turned slowly, and a malicious light leaped in his eyes when he saw John on foot before him, and wholly in his power.
"And so," he said, "it's young Scott of the hotel in Dresden and of the wireless station, and you've come straight into my hands!"
The whimsical humor which sometimes seized John when he was in the most dangerous situation took hold of him again. It was not humor exactly, but it was the innate desire to make the best of a bad situation.
"I'm in your hands," he replied, "but I didn't walk willingly into 'em. Your lieutenant, von Arnheim here, and his men brought me on the points of their lances. I'm quite willing to go away again."
Von Boehlen recognized the spirit in the reply and the malice departed from his own eyes. Yet he asked sternly:
"Why do you put on a French uniform and meddle in a quarrel not your own?"
"I've made it my own. I take the chances of war."
"To the rear with him, and put him with the other prisoners," said von Boehlen to von Arnheim, and the young Prussian and two Uhlans escorted him to the edge of the field where twenty or thirty French prisoners sat on the ground.
"I take it," said von Arnheim, "that you and our captain have met before."
"Yes, and the last time it was under circumstances that did not endear me to him."
"If it was in war it will not be to your harm. Captain von Boehlen is a stern but just man, and his conduct is strictly according to our military code. You will stay here with the other prisoners under guard. I hope to see you again."
With these polite words the young officer rode back to his chief, and John's heart warmed to him because of his kindness. Then he sat down on the grass and looked at those who were prisoners with him. Most of them were wounded, but none seemed despondent. All were lying down, some propped on their elbows, and they were watching and listening with the closest attention. A half-dozen Germans, rifle in hand, stood near by.
John took his place on the grass by the side of a fair, slim young man who carried his left arm in a bandage.
"Englishman?" said the young man.
"No, American."
"But you have been fighting for us, as your uniform shows. What command?"
"General Vaugirard's, but I became separated from it earlier in the day."
"I've heard of him. Great, fat man, as cool as ice and as brave as a lion. A good general to serve under. My own name is Fleury, Albert Fleury. I was wounded and taken early this morning, and the others and I have been herded here ever since by the Germans. They will not tell us a word, but I notice they have not advanced."
"The German army is retreating everywhere. For this day, at least, we're victorious. Somebody has made a great plan and has carried it through. The cavalry of the invader came within sight of Paris this morning, but they won't be able to see it tomorrow morning. Whisper it to the others. We'll take the good news quietly. We won't let the guards see that we know."
The news was circulated in low tones and every one of the wounded forgot his wound. They spoke among themselves, but all the while the thunder of the hundred-mile battle went on with unremitting ferocity. John put his ear to the ground now, and the earth quivered incessantly like a ship shaken at sea by its machinery.
The day was now waning fast and he looked at the mass of Uhlans who stood arrayed in the open space, as if they were awaiting an order. Lieutenant von Arnheim rode back and ordered the guards to march on with them.
There was none too severely wounded to walk and they proceeded in a file through the fields, Uhlans on all sides, but the great mass behind them, where their commander, von Boehlen, himself rode.
The night was almost at hand. Twilight was already coming over the eastern hills, and one of the most momentous days in the story of man was drawing to a close. People often do not know the magnitude of an event until it has passed long since and shows in perspective, but John felt to the full the result of the event, just as the old Greeks must have known at once what Salamis or Platæa meant to them. The hosts of the world's greatest military empire were turned back, and he had all the certainty of conviction that they would be driven farther on the next day.
The little band of prisoners who walked while their Prussian captors rode, were animated by feelings like those of John. It was the captured who exulted and the captors who were depressed, though neither expressed it in words, and the twilight was too deep now for faces to show either joy or sorrow.
John and Fleury walked side by side. They were near the same age. Fleury was an Alpinist from the high mountain region of Savoy and he had arrived so recently in the main theater of conflict that he knew little of what had been passing. He and John talked in whispers and they spoke encouraging words to each other. Fleury listened in wonder to John's account of his flights with Lannes.
"It is marvelous to have looked down upon a battle a hundred miles long," he said. "Have you any idea where these Uhlans intend to take us?"
"I haven't. Doubtless they don't know themselves. The night is here now, and I imagine they'll stop somewhere soon."
The twilight died in the west as well as the east, and darkness came over the field of gigantic strife. But the earth continued to quiver with the thunder of artillery, and John felt the waves of air pulsing in his ears. Now and then searchlights burned in a white blaze across the hills. Fields, trees and houses would stand out for a moment, and then be gone absolutely.
