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ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 F. BRITTEN AUSTIN 
 
ACCORDING 
 TO ORDERS 
 
 BY 
 
 F. BRITTEN AUSTIN 
 
 AUTHOR OP "bATTLEWBACK," "iN ACTION," 
 
 "the shaping of lavinia," etc. 
 
 NEW XBJr YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
Copyright, 1919, 
 By George H, Doran Company 
 
 Copyright, 1917, by F. Britten Austin 
 Copyright, 1918, by The Curtis Publishing Company 
 Copyright, 1918, by The Street and Smith Corporation 
 Copyright, 1918, by The Red Book Corporation 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
A93S 
 
 TO 
 
 GEORGE HORACE LORIMER 
 
 \ 
 
 QQ'Ji^Q*^ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Zu Befehl II 
 
 II 
 In the Hindenburg Line 41 
 
 III 
 The Terror in the Sky 75 
 
 IV 
 Panzerkraftwaoen lOl 
 
 V 
 The Spy 128 
 
 VI 
 iV^CH Verdun 159 
 
 VII 
 The Conquerors 190 
 
 VIII 
 The Sea Devil 221 
 
 IX 
 
 The Iron Cross 250 
 
 X 
 
 "And the Earth Opened Her Mouth — " ... 283 
 
 XI 
 Peace 316 
 
 vii 
 
ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
••« •• • • 
 
 ACCORDING 
 TO ORDERS 
 
 ZU BEFEHLt 
 
 Zu Befehll means "according to orders.'* It isi 
 also the invariable German military acknowledgment 
 of a command from a superior. 
 
 THE three battalions of the — th Regiment, 
 300th Ersatz Division, had acquired a senti- 
 ment almost of domicile in the little French town set 
 among the yet leafless orchards in a hollow of the 
 rolling Picardy country. They had been long upon 
 this sector, had come up for the fierce struggles in 
 the Pierre St. Vaast Wood at the time of the Battle 
 of the Somme, in September, 191 6, and during their 
 spells in the front line in the dreary winter which fol- 
 lowed, while the French shells wailed over their 
 heads to fling up founts of mud in the quagmire 
 behind the trenches, they looked back to their rest 
 area with something akin to nostalgia. When at 
 last, relieved for a few weeks, they tramped, hag- 
 
 II 
 
12 ; : ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 gard; bearded and. my d-caked, into the narrow cob- 
 bled streets' *whicn led into the tree-surrounded 
 Grande Place, with its Joan of Arc statue in the 
 centre, it was almost as if they had returned to their 
 native townships remote beyond the Rhine. They 
 sang, with a spasm of lustiness, "/« der Heimat — 
 in der Heimat da ffiehfs ein WiedersehenV* in a 
 swinging choral that had a note of real homecoming 
 as the heavy rifles were shifted to the correct smart 
 slope upon the shoulder. Inscriptions upon the 
 shops, indicative of the adaptability of human na- 
 ture and the business instincts of the commerqanU — 
 or rather of the brave wives of the commerqants 
 distant in the French trenches — helped the illusion. 
 Strips of paper pasted across the windows bore the 
 outlandish words Delikatessen, Ranch- und Speise 
 Mittel, traced for a dimly comprehending landlady 
 by an obliging German soldier to the allurement of 
 his fellows. 
 
 These good ladies stood at the doors of their 
 shops while the ranks went swinging by in the dusk, 
 and said to one another with a quiet certitude: 
 **Oui, c*est la trois-centieme encore*' From the 
 river of faces that flowed through the twilight came 
 hoarse guttural cries of recognition from German 
 soldiers childishly anxious to be remembered. They 
 met with no response. The women at the doors 
 stood calmly interested as company after company 
 tramped rhythmically past, dreaming perhaps of a 
 day when a battalion of another race should march 
 
ZIJ BEFEHL! IS 
 
 4own that street in a tumult of enthusiasm that 
 brought a lump to the throat and a mist to the eyes 
 merely to imagine it. 
 
 In the evening, when the battalions had broken 
 ranks and had surged out of their billets in throngs 
 of soldiermen arm in arm in twos and threes, a 
 woman under the hanging oil lamp in the tiny shop 
 would look up at a remembered face with a little 
 smile and say, half in quiet malice, half in natural 
 human friendliness: 
 
 *^Ah, votis n!etes pas tue, alorsT* 
 
 And the German, grinning, would reply in his 
 clumsy pronunciation : 
 
 **Non, matame — has done — encored 
 
 Then the woman would break into a little merry 
 laugh — *^Ah! il ne sera jamais doue — c^t homme-lhn 
 as she pushed the desired article across the counter. 
 And the German, grinning uncomprehendingly, 
 would tramp heavily out of the shop. 
 
 Relations between the conquerors and the — tem- 
 porarily — conquered, if not cordial, were at least 
 friendly. The French women had homes to be kept 
 together and young mouths to be fed. The Ger- 
 man soldiers naturally relaxed from the strain of 
 those long, drear weeks when they lived under the 
 alternative of kill or be killed. Besides, human 
 beings not actually engaged in hostilities cannot live 
 in close propinquity without the emergence of amica- 
 ble sentiments. The German soldiers looked at the 
 little children and remembered that they themselves, 
 
14 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 many of them, were fathers. The mothers remarked 
 the caress and beamed with that maternal emotion 
 which forgets nationality. For a final reason, the 
 German military-police system was strict. It con- 
 ferred a sense of security on the one party while it 
 enforced a stem discipline on the other. 
 
 On a bright March morning, with the sun shining 
 so cheerfully from a pale-blue sky that there was a 
 chatter of bird notes among the bare trees of the 
 orchard, the Gefreite Hans Kellner took a walk 
 round the billet familiar to him from previous oc- 
 cupancy. The battalion had been dismissed early 
 from parade on this first morning after their ar- 
 rival in the rest area, in order that the men might 
 clean their kits and otherwise recuperate from the 
 fatigues of a spell of particularly bad weather in 
 the trenches. The Gefreite, whose step in rank 
 above the simple private absolved him from the duty 
 of cleaning up the barn in which his squad had slept, 
 wandered round the house, his long porcelain-bowled 
 pipe hanging from his teeth, and looked critically 
 for any change that might have occurred since his 
 last visit. There was none. The house — a farm- 
 stead which was the first of the buildings of the town 
 when entered by the main road — wore Its normal 
 look of agricultural occupation, apparently unaf- 
 fected by the war. There was still a quantity of hay 
 and straw in the barns. The fowls pecked assidu- 
 ously as of old on the manure heap In front of the 
 house, in the courtyard all but inclosed by the barns 
 
ZU BEFEHL! 15 
 
 and opening onto the road by a heavy double gate- 
 way. The stables were empty; the horses — he knew 
 them to be poor creatures purchased from the Ger- 
 man authorities after being cast from the army — at 
 work in the fields. The orchard, bright with its 
 whitewashed stems in the sunshine, was just show- 
 ing its first buds. 
 
 The inhabitants were unchanged also. M. De- 
 lavigne, the farmer, a man of about forty years, 
 whose class had not yet been called to the colours 
 when the invaders swept over the land and shut him 
 off from the French authorities, passed through the 
 yard on his way to the house. The German touched 
 his cap and diffidently murmured ^^Bonjour^ mori' 
 sieur/* without, however, removing his pipe from 
 his teeth. The Frenchman answered by the curt nod 
 that had been his invariable response when Hans 
 Kellner had, in his last visit, proffered friendliness. 
 He heard Marie, the servant maid, giggling as of 
 old with the soldiers cleaning the barn, as, rather 
 sheepishly, he followed the farmer to his door. Un- 
 comfortably sensible of his idleness in this busy 
 household, he shamefacedly craved companionship. 
 On the threshold of the big kitchen with its clean- 
 scrubbed wooden furniture, its black gulf of a chim- 
 ney, he hesitated, and gazed in without entering. 
 Two women were at work there — the farmer's wife, 
 fresh and buxom, some ten years younger than her 
 husband, and her mother, old and bent with many 
 years of toil in the fields. The old woman turned 
 
16 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 away her head with a scowl. The farmer's wife 
 came boldly toward the German. 
 
 "Ah, gros paresseux!*^ she said vivaciously. "And 
 there is a heap of wood to be chopped in the corner 
 of the yard!'* 
 
 The German stared at her for a moment while 
 his dull intelligence lumbered after the swift run 
 of her words. Then seizing their import he smiled, 
 touched his cap and turned with docility to do her 
 bidding. 
 
 He procured the axe with a precise and long- 
 founded knowledge of its whereabouts. Then put- 
 ting away his pipe he set to work vigorously upon 
 the heap of rough timber. The chopped wood he 
 piled in a shed with scrupulous neatness. Marie- 
 Louise, the farmer's three-year-old daughter, tod- 
 dled out to him and watched him while he worked. 
 
 "Bonjour, Marie-Louis eF' said Hans, more at 
 home with the child than with any other member of 
 the family. 
 
 '' 'Jour, m'sieUy* responded Marie-Louise gravely, 
 her none-too-clean face in process of further defile- 
 ment from the morsel of chocolate, acquired from 
 one of the other soldiers, which leaked from the cor- 
 ners of her mouth. 
 
 His task finished, Hans Kellner put away the axe 
 and once more lit the pipe, which was his dearest 
 possession. 
 
 Marie-Louise brightened at once. 
 
 **Regarde — pipe!" she said decisively. 
 
ZU BEFEHL! 17 
 
 The German held down the porcelain bowl» 
 painted with a highly coloured lady in yellow hair 
 and red peasant jacket, for her inspection. Then 
 replacing the mouthpiece between his teeth he sud- 
 denly hoisted the child to his shoulder and marched 
 off with her to the gateway opening to the street. 
 
 There he stood sunning himself, the little one held 
 high, prattling and laughing, beating upon his cap 
 with one fist while the other arm tightly encircled 
 his head. 
 
 Suddenly the German soldier perceived a motor 
 car, followed by a second, rushing toward the town. 
 He had a glimpse of a staff flag fluttering above the 
 radiator. In an instant the child was dashed down, 
 the German soldier stood rigid and saluted with 
 exact precision as the first car dashed past. The 
 child flung down upon the ground burst into a shriek 
 of bewilderment and pain. 
 
 The German soldier stood like a statue and sa- 
 luted again as the second car shot by. The first 
 had contained the divisional general; the second held 
 members of his staff. To Hans Kellner it was as 
 though the gods from Olympus had whirled along 
 the road, suspending the functions of humanity. 
 
 When he relaxed from his stiff posture, after a 
 decent interval to assure himself that no third car 
 followed, the child had fled from him, was disap- 
 pearing with last audible sobs into the house. 
 
 Hans Kellner gazed stupidly after her, then philo- 
 sophically replaced his pipestem between his teeth. 
 
18 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The child's grandmother shook her fist at him 
 from the doorway. 
 
 The divisional general followed by several of his 
 staff officers climbed the wooden staircase of the 
 little mairie and strode into the office of the regiment 
 commander. That officer jumped from his seat Into 
 erect rigidity with a click of heels and spurs. 
 
 "Good morning, Herr Oberst/* said the divisional 
 general. 
 
 "Good morning, excellenz** replied the colonel, 
 wondering uneasily if all the regimental returns had 
 been correct while he stood respectfully immobile. 
 
 "Be seated, colonel," said the general, dropping 
 himself heavily into the chair which a subaltern mem- 
 l)er of the regimental staff hastened to place for him. 
 "I have orders for you." 
 
 "Zu Befehl, ExcellenzP* said the regiment com- 
 mander zealously ere he unbent from his parade atti- 
 tude and resumed his seat. 
 
 The divisional general tapped his hand upon the 
 table. 
 
 "We are evacuating the area, colonel. The re- 
 tirement will be carried out immediately." 
 
 The ohersfs eyebrows shot up at this startling 
 intelligence. He looked at his superior as though 
 scarcely crediting his ears. 
 
 The general waved away his doubts with an airy 
 motion of his hand. 
 
 "A matter of strategy, lieher Oh erst — gldnzende 
 Kriegslist! — Hindcnburg's master stroke! We es- 
 
ZV BEFEHL! 1^ 
 
 cape from the enemy at the moment he intends to 
 deliver his decisive blow and leave him a vacuum — 
 a desert I However, lieber Oberst, it is not for us 
 to discuss the decisions which have been ratified by 
 the All-Highest War Lord — it is for us to execute 
 them.'* He blew pompously down his nose into his 
 thrust-out bristling white moustache and glared at 
 the colonel as he finished this sentence. 
 
 '^Ja wohl, Excellenz — naturlich/^ said the colonel, 
 all subservience. 
 
 **Gut" said the general. "The situation has al- 
 ready been long foreseen. You have your orders. 
 Open your Grosses-H auptquartier secret order num- 
 ber 355 and you will find your instructions in de- 
 tail. You have only to execute them. The greatest 
 possible speed is essential. The regiment must be 
 on the march by dawn to-morrow. Follow your 
 orders strictly. No sentimental considerations may 
 be allowed to interfere with their exact performance. 
 Get the civilian population under guard at once. 
 You will find it all in your orders. Men under sixty. 
 Women from fifteen to forty-five. Children at the 
 breast go with the women. The train for the men 
 will be at the railway station at four this after- 
 noon. The women's trains will leave at five and six 
 o'clock. See that the orders about fruit trees are 
 thoroughly carried out — also the cattle. A pioneer 
 company will report to you in half an hour to assist 
 in thQ demolition of the town." He rose to his feet. 
 "Those are your orders. I rely on you, colonel." 
 
^0 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The regiment commander also rose to his feet, 
 stood rigid as before. 
 
 *'Zu Befehl, Excellenzr 
 
 With a mutual clicking of heels the divisional 
 general and his satellites departed. 
 
 In as short a time as they could answer the tele- 
 phonic summons the three battalion commanders 
 stood before the colonel. He handed each of them 
 written orders, emphasised particular points, quieted 
 their astonishment. ^'Das Meisterstuck Hinden- 
 hurgsT That was the key word to confidence, thor- 
 oughly impressed upon them. 
 
 "Destruction, meine Herren** concluded the colo- 
 nel — "no looting! That is what your men must 
 be made to understand. We have no time to pack 
 up souvenirs. Complete destruction. You will find 
 your times for marching off in your orders. You 
 must be strictly punctual. And when you leave you 
 must leave only a desert behind you. You quite 
 understand? Then get to work quickly!" 
 
 "Zw Befehl, Herr OberstT said the three battal- 
 ion commanders in chorus, saluting like one man with 
 a simultaneous click of spurs. The colonel swept 
 his glance over the row of middle-aged faces, flushed 
 with good living, in front of him ; the faces of three 
 not unkind fathers of families, despite the military 
 uniform. Their eyes were steady, their mouths calm. 
 He dismissed his subordinates with an imperious 
 gesture. 
 
 The bugles sounded in the streets. There was a 
 
ZV BEFEHL! 21 
 
 rush of heavy feet as the men fell in their ranks. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later two battalions stood 
 ranked in long lines through the streets. The third 
 battaHon was massed in column of companies In 
 the Grande Place. The major commanding that 
 battalion stood In conference with his company com- 
 manders close under the statue of Joan of Arc. A 
 group of pioneers was busy excavating a hole under 
 the base of the monument. The battalion com- 
 mander concluded his orders. 
 
 "As far as possible the men will carry out the 
 work of destruction in the vicinity of their own 
 billets. They are most familiar with those areas. 
 These orders will be executed with the utmost speed 
 and thoroughness." 
 
 '*Zu Befehl, Herr MajorT chorused the four 
 company commanders, saluting, ere they returned 
 to their men. 
 
 Almost immediately the battalion commenced to 
 move off. As the last files left the square there was 
 a loud explosion, a cloud of smoke and dust behind 
 them. The statue of Joan of Arc toppled and 
 crashed. A rush of women to the doorways of the 
 shops bordering on the square followed the detona- 
 tion. Shrill feminine cries of alarm resounded over 
 the steady foot beats of the marching troops. Anx- 
 ious mothers clutched their children to them and 
 demanded of one another the significance of this 
 portent. A pioneer disfigured the calm features of 
 the prostrate statue with vehement strokes of hi» 
 
gje ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 pick. A strong patrol of mounted military police 
 rode into the square and descended from their 
 horses. 
 
 In the kitchen of the farmstead on the outskirts 
 of the town, M. Delavigne finished his eleven o'clock 
 repast without troubling himself about this sudden 
 assemblage of the troops. He, his wife, his mother- 
 in-law, fondly attending to the wants of Marie- 
 Louise, and Marie, the servant, sat in common at 
 the bare wood table, cut in common from the long 
 loaf of bread, and helped themselves as their appe- 
 tites prompted from the big enamel tureen of soup 
 which was between them. 
 
 Suddenly the farmer looked up. His ear, long 
 habituated to the usual muttering thunders of the 
 battle line seven or eight miles away, had caught 
 a series of unfamiliar detonations. They were not 
 particularly loud detonations — not so loud as the 
 jarring roar, regularly repeated, which he knew to 
 come from the big gun mounted on the railway truck 
 — but they were sharper and decidedly louder than 
 the customary dull reports of the warring artilleries. 
 The sharp detonajtions continued. His wife also re- 
 marked them and they exchanged a puzzled look. 
 
 "They are nearer!" exclaimed the young woman. 
 The routine of war had been so long established 
 for them that any deviation from the normal was 
 full of significance. "Perhaps^ — ^perhaps it is true — 
 after all?" 
 
 Her husband shook his head pessimistically. 
 
ZU BEFEHL! 23 
 
 *'No ; we have heard it too many times." 
 
 The old woman looked up from her soup, gave 
 a glance of fondness at the child and then scowled. 
 Ces sales Bochesf But they are going — ^they are 
 going! I feel it In my bones!'* 
 
 The farmer did not reply. At a repetition of the 
 uncustomary sounds he pushed his plate from him 
 and went out of the house into the street. 
 
 Along the main road from the westward, whence 
 proceeded the strange detonations, a battery of heavy 
 guns, drawn by rumbling, rattling petrol tractors, 
 was approaching him. Behind that. In the distance, 
 was a column of motor lorries, also coming toward 
 the town. Beyond them was a cloud of dust indica- 
 tive of yet more traffic on the road. Of signs of 
 hostilities there was none. The sunshine flooded a 
 rolling landscape where most of the fields were 
 brown. From an isolated farm between him and 
 the battle front the chimney smoke ascended peace- 
 fully. 
 
 The heavy battery went noisily past him. He 
 paid it no attention. For the last week similar bat- 
 teries had been coming from the Front every day 
 in such numbers as to give rise to the rumour that 
 the Germans were preparing a retreat. The farm- 
 er's bitter scepticism was the product of a long series 
 of such rumours and their corollaries of deception. 
 The column of motor lorries followed, loaded high 
 with balks of timber, huge reels of barbed wire and 
 
24 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 other engineers* stores. Behind them an intermina- 
 bly long column of field artillery approached. 
 
 The farmer could make nothing of the sharp det- 
 onations save that a battery had been newly placed 
 in position nearer than usual to the town. 
 
 Suddenly he heard a voice behind him, crying his 
 name in accents of alarm. It was Jules, the lad 
 who should have been working with the horses in the 
 fields. 
 
 "Monsieur Delavignel Monsieur Delavignel 
 They have shot the horses I They have shot the 
 horses!" 
 
 The farmer turned on him sharply. 
 
 "Shot the horses? Qui-qaf 
 
 ''Les Bochesf — ^the Germans!'* The lad hur- 
 riedly substituted the politer designation he had un- 
 warily forgotten in the excitement of the moment. 
 The vernacular was unsafe for public use. He en- 
 tered upon a long, incoherent story of the incident, 
 trotting by the side of the farmer, who strode hur- 
 riedly in blazing wrath toward the scene of the 
 outrage. 
 
 "We were working in the big field, m*sieu — just 
 at the end of the furrow, m'sieu — and they came 
 and shot them — five of them. They laughed, 
 m'sieu ** 
 
 At that moment Marie came running after them. 
 
 "Monsieur Delavigne! Monsieur Delavigne!*' 
 Her voice was a raucous scream. The farmer 
 stopped — Immediately conscious of a new calamity. 
 
ZIJ BEFEHL! 25 
 
 "They are cutting down the trees I They are cutting 
 down the trees in the orchard!" 
 
 M. Delavigne did not ask who. There was an 
 accent on the "they" which was sufficiently indica- 
 tive. The blood rushed to his face. His fingers 
 clawed at the palms of his hands as his fists worked 
 in an overmastering rage. His existence was crum- 
 bling about him. He turned and ran toward the 
 orchard. It had been the pride of his father, of 
 his grandfather; It was now his. He ran as a man 
 runs to fend off disaster. 
 
 He dashed round the house to where the long 
 rows of whitewashed tree trunks gleamed in the 
 spring sunshine. The orchard was filled with Ger- 
 man soldiers furiously at work, and resounded to 
 the thuds of many axes. The Germans were not cut- 
 ting the trees down. They had not time for that. 
 They were deeply gashing all round the trunks so 
 that the trees would inevitably die. To the farmer 
 it was the equivalent of cold-blooded murder. 
 
 He rushed at the nearest man with a snarl, flung 
 himself upon him In a struggle to wrest away the 
 axe. For a moment the two men swayed, evenly 
 matched, the farmer uttering unintelligible sounds, 
 the German grinning. Then another German aimed 
 a blow at the farmer with the back of an axe, which, 
 just missing his head, struck his shoulder and felled 
 him to the ground. He half rose, felt his right arm 
 useless, and cursed savagely at the two men who 
 stood over him, smiling in their comfortable su- 
 
26 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 periority. A German officer sauntered up, elegant 
 and close-buttoned, monocle dangling. In crisp, de- 
 cisive French he ordered the farmer out of the or- 
 chard; in his own language he brutally ordered his 
 men to get on with their work. The Frenchman 
 looked at him with the eyes of a man who despairs 
 for lack of a weapon that will kill. 
 
 Jules and Marie ran up, assisted the farmer to 
 his feet and supported him, dazed and unsteady, out 
 of the orchard. His wife came running toward him, 
 so preoccupied with her own news that she did not 
 at first notice his condition. 
 
 "Henri I Henri I They have killed the cowl 
 They have killed the cow I Oh I Henri I Oh, what 
 is it that they have done? What is it that they 
 have done to you?" 
 
 She flung her arms round him, pushing aside the 
 servants. They stood speechless, clinging to one 
 another, man and wife, drowning in an unexpected 
 flood of disaster. They stood locked, paralysed, 
 for a long moment before the woman let her face 
 drop suddenly on her husband's breast in an out- 
 burst of tears. This was ruin — deliberately inflicted. 
 In the shock of it their numbed brains sought no 
 explanation. 
 
 The voice of the old woman roused them : 
 "Henri 1 Henri! Elisel Elise! Quickly, quickly!*' 
 She was out of sight, in the courtyard. Alarmed 
 they hastened toward her. She stood clutching an- 
 other old woman, who spoke with excited volubility. 
 
ZU BEFEHLf 27 
 
 At the appearance of her son-in-law she turned and 
 cried in triumph : 
 
 **Henri! Henri! Les Boches s^en vontf Les 
 Boches s*en vontT She shouted the opprobrious 
 name with a wild indifference to the German sol- 
 diers in the courtyard. *'They are going everywhere 
 —everywhere I" 
 
 The farmer listened to the first few sentences of 
 the old woman who had brought the news. Then, 
 reinvigorated with an incredible hope, he dashed to 
 the gateway. 
 
 The street was blocked with the long column of 
 field artillery, immobile until some obstruction in 
 the town was cleared. The limbers were piled high 
 with packages ; the gunners who sat upon them were 
 gloomy and silent, their long pipes hanging from 
 their mouths. Behind them the road to the west- 
 ward was packed with troops. On parallel roads 
 he saw the dust of marching columns. A dense 
 smoke was welling out of the isolated farmhouse in 
 the near distance. 
 
 Coupled with the old woman's intelligence these 
 signs were decisive. He flung his arm into the air, 
 forgetting his pain. 
 
 "It is the retreat!" he cried. "The retreat at 
 last I Come all of you and look! The retreat!" 
 
 He could find no other words to express his joy. 
 The entire household crowded round him at the 
 gateway. Even Marie-Louise toddled out, clutch- 
 ing at her mother's hand. 
 
28 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The old woman who had brought the news began 
 to sob and recommenced the recital of her wrongs. 
 It was her farmhouse that was now whelmed in dense 
 smoke yonder. 
 
 *T am ruined!" she moaned. "Ruined I" 
 
 "Ruined!" cried the farmer. "So am I. But 
 what matters? What does anything matter? They 
 are retreating — retreating! We shall be France 
 once more — France ! Oh, ma femmef* He kissed 
 her. "France! France! Freedom!" 
 
 At that moment a squad of infantry, led by an 
 officer, came up the street toward them from the 
 town, just finding room to pass by the stationary 
 artillery. 
 
 The squad halted at a sharp word of command. 
 The group of peasants at the gateway, intoxicated 
 with the prospect of deliverance, scarcely saw them, 
 perceived only the long columns heading eastward. 
 Only Marie, the servant, giggled at the Gefreite 
 Hans Kellner, stolid in the near ranks. 
 
 The officer barked out his orders. 
 
 "Kellner! Take two men! Escort that man to 
 the square !" He pointed at the farmer. 
 
 The Gefreite Hans Kellner stepped out of the 
 ranks. 
 
 "Zm Befehl, Herr LeutnantT* he said, and sa- 
 luted. 
 
 A moment later the farmer found himself in the 
 powerful grasp of two soldiers. The shriek from 
 his wife was simultaneous. 
 
ZU BEFEHL! ^9 
 
 "March!" cried Kellner, raising his rifle. 
 
 The farmer stared round him in horror and de- 
 spair, stunned by this pitiless reversal of fortune. 
 The blue sky seemed black. His eyes rested on the 
 flashing bayonet, the ugly little dark hole of the rifle 
 muzzle close against his face. The menace held 
 them fascinated. 
 
 With a wild cry his wife sprang at the gefreite, 
 clutching at his weapon. 
 
 **Et toiy Hans Kellner! Qt/est-ce que tu penses a 
 fairef She used the second person singular, as she 
 would to a servant, to this man whom she had many 
 times ordered to chop wood and to perform a dozen 
 other menial tasks. 
 
 The German thrust her from him with a violent 
 hand. He bulked huge, stolid, terribly impersonal. 
 
 "March I" he commanded, and there was no dis- 
 puting the order. 
 
 Like a condemned man the farmer moved away 
 between his guards. With another shriek his wife 
 threw herself at the officer and clamoured: "Why? 
 Why? Why? What are they going to do?" She 
 fell on her knees to him. 
 
 The officer turned his back on her as though she 
 did not exist, issued further orders to his squad. 
 The young woman got up, panting, wild-eyed. She 
 was unaware that she held the tiny Marie-Louise 
 tightly clutched by the hand. She saw her husband 
 disappearing down the street, along the endless line 
 of guns and limbers where the artillerymen sat aloft, 
 
80 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 immobile like barbaric gods, cruelly indifferent. She 
 sprang after him, dragging the now whimpering 
 child by the hand. In a ha^e of perception she 
 heard her old mother cursing the German officer 
 behind her. 
 
 The three Germans ^nd their prisoner marched 
 steadily down the long street into the town. Other 
 captives preceded them, and others were brought 
 out of the houses as they passed. Mme. Delavigne 
 hastened to keep up, deaf to the cries of Marie- 
 Louise, pulled off her feet. 
 
 They reached the square just as the artillery com- 
 menced to move again. At its farther end was a 
 mass of male civilians, guarded by German soldiers 
 with fixed bayonets. Covering the mass were two 
 machine guns on their low tripods. The men who 
 squatted by the weapons ready to work them laughed 
 to one another at the comic despair of some of the 
 men in the crowd. 
 
 At the near end of the square was a mass of 
 women, soldiers walking up and down in front of 
 them, shouting at the females in exasperation at 
 the shrieks and cries. Between the two masses was 
 a group of superior officers, calmly chatting. One, 
 who had seated himself on the head of the pros- 
 trate statue, was flicking dust from his riding boots. 
 
 The farmer was led across the square toward the 
 mass of his compatriots. His wife dodged a Ger- 
 man soldier and essayed to follow him. Instantly a 
 rough grasp fastened upon her shoulder and pulled 
 
ZV BEFEHL! 31 
 
 her back. She strove toward her husband, fighting 
 like a wildcat with her one free hand. 
 
 "Henri! Henri I*' she shrieked. 
 
 The captive, firmly held by his guards, turned his 
 head with an effort. 
 
 *^ Adieu, ma femmer* he shouted. ** Adieu! Be 
 brave !" She had a last glimpse of his face. 
 
 The young woman felt herself dragged away, 
 heard a brutal voice shouting guttural threats into 
 her ear. A piercing cry from Marie-Louise brought 
 her to realisation of the little one whose hand she 
 grasped. The child was torn away from her. She 
 let it go in the infant's yell of pain at the strain 
 upon the tiny arm. An instant later the mother was 
 flung violently into the mass of weeping women. She 
 saw the child carried, kicking and struggling, by a 
 burly German soldier, to the corner of the square. 
 She fainted. 
 
 In the centre the group of German superior offi- 
 cers continued their calm conversation. One replied 
 to a question. 
 
 "No," he said. "They go to quite different des- 
 tinations — the men to one place, the women to an- 
 other." 
 
 The entire group turned to watch the first batch 
 of male civilians marched of! to the railway station. 
 Hans Kellner stolidly marched his men up the hill 
 again to the farmstead. On the road they passed 
 Marie, the servant, weeping hysterically, being 
 pushed along with several other distracted women 
 
8g ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 toward the square. Their conductors joked at them 
 in debased French. The gefreite reported to his 
 officer, was received with a curt nod. 
 
 "And the woman?'* asked the lieutenant. 
 
 "With the other women in the square, Herr 
 Leutnant/' 
 
 "So I I expected that. Pity the servant did not 
 go as well. It would have saved an escort." He 
 gave further orders. 
 
 As the gefreite entered the courtyard the old 
 grandmother sprang at him, held him with gripping 
 fingers. Her face was startling in its wild despair. 
 
 "Marie-Louise!" she shrieked. "Marie-Louise I 
 Where is she?" 
 
 The German stared at her stupidly for an instant. 
 The child? 
 
 *^Zais hasF^ he said brutally, and wrenched himself 
 away from her. 
 
 The old woman screamed, rushed toward the 
 gateway. German soldiers barred her exit. 
 
 Within the house the men lately billeted upon the 
 premises were working joyously at their task of de- 
 struction. Laughing faces appeared at the windows 
 as they flung out articles of furniture and clothing. 
 Other men were dragging out straw from the bams, 
 mingling it in a great heap with the furniture thrown 
 into the courtyard. 
 
 The old woman, endowed suddenly with the fierce, 
 energy of the insane, rushed from one group to an- 
 other, hampering though she did not stay their work. 
 
ZU BEFEHL! 33 
 
 Exasperated by this annoyance, some of the soldiers 
 seized her, forced her into a chair that had been 
 flung into the courtyard, tied her into it. But her 
 tongue was not stilled. Her vociferation grew un- 
 bearable. They gagged her. She sat there, bound, 
 a towel across the lower part of her face, gazing 
 at them as they sprinkled oil liberally over the heap 
 and about the barns and house. The fire commenced 
 with choking volumes of smoke. 
 
 The three battalions laboured furiously in an orgy 
 of destruction. They worked in little groups, hack- 
 ing, smashing, applying the torch. Slaughtered ani- 
 mals encumbered the courtyards of the houses on 
 the outskirts. Dogs dashed down the streets, yelp- 
 ing in panic, their tails between their legs. Heavy 
 explosions shook the air and earth. Great masses 
 of smoke rose above the roofs, rolled down the 
 streets. There was an incessant fusillade from rifle 
 cartridges left by careless soldiers in their blazing 
 billets. The Germans shouted and laughed at the 
 constant reports, blurred to personal danger by their 
 libations at the broached wine casks, the snatched 
 bottles from the litter of broken glass on the floors 
 of the shops. The calmly strutting officers permit- 
 ted the orgy to the point of recklessness, checked it 
 where recklessness might have passed into incapac- 
 ity. A haze of smoke overhung the town and ob- 
 scured the sun. The fall of the church steeple was 
 seen only by those in the immediate vicinity, though 
 all lifted their heads at its resounding crash. 
 
34 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Through this inferno of smoking broken houses 
 echoing to harsh cries bodies""of troops passed in- 
 terminably eastward at their best pace, halting not, 
 except for a hastily removed obstruction. Battery 
 after battery, long ammunition columns, dashed 
 through at a hand gallop. Infantry, choking and 
 cursing the fumes, poured through in long rivers of 
 muddy field grey, steel helmeted, rifles at the slope. 
 Their officers urged them on with fierce shouts as 
 they turned their heads to glance at the sanitary 
 squads busily polluting the water supply. The first- 
 line transport which followed them was loaded high 
 with domestic articles, hung round with slaughtered 
 poultry. For hour after hour the hurried procession 
 continued. 
 
 The trains of cattle trucks, choked full with de- 
 spairing captives, had long ago left the railway sta- 
 tion for their remote destinations. The first mad- 
 dened scurry of ancient men, of old women, of young 
 children, left behind amid this chaos, had long ceased. 
 Their screams were heard no more. The streets 
 were entirely filled with men in uniform. Those be- 
 neath the notice of the retreating conquerors were 
 fleeing blindly over the countryside. Only here and 
 there in dark cellars underneath blazing houses did 
 fear-paralysed groups of old people still cower. 
 Some of the soldiery made a virtue of turning them 
 out. 
 
 Night fell. The town, brick and stone built, did 
 not catch fire readily, but in the lurid glare from 
 
ZU BEFEHL! 35 
 
 houses satisfactorily ablaze groups of smoke-black- 
 ened men darted from building to building, insured 
 its complete destruction. Two battalions reported 
 that there was no more to be done, fell in the ranks 
 fitfully illumined from the red-windowed houses in 
 the square, marched out in succession. The third 
 battalion hastened to be finished with its area. 
 Shells, French shells, commenced to wail over and 
 crash among the ruins, an alarming spur to effort. 
 Sharp bursts of rifle fire came disturbingly from the 
 west. The rear guard was in action in close vicinity 
 to the town. A German battery to the eastward 
 sent shells rushing overhead. 
 
 The first grey of dawn crept into the sky, not 
 perceptible through the pall of smoke, as Hans Kell- 
 ner's battalion formed its ranks in the square. The 
 gefreite settled himself "at ease" between his com- 
 rades, waiting for the commands. In the interval 
 he looked round him and saw the prostrate statue, 
 now abandoned in the centre. A half-linked thought 
 flitted into his mind. Marie-Louise? What had 
 happened to her? He did not retain it, but sprang 
 sharply to attention at the word of command and 
 stood stiff and stolid. A moment later the bat- 
 talion was in column of route, was marching out of 
 the square. 
 
 Hans Kellner was in the rear company of the bat- 
 talion. Individually fatigued though they were, the 
 men seemed to derive new strength from their cor- 
 porate association, in grateful contrast to their scat- 
 
86 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 tered toil. The battalion swung onward like one 
 man, with powerful strides, hurrying to leave behind 
 it the horror of the ravaged town. The wailing, 
 crashing French shells arrived more frequently; the 
 German battery behind the town banged away vigor- 
 ously as they approached it, smiting their ears with 
 the double detonations of its discharges, lighting 
 up the sky with broad white flashes. This fitful illu- 
 mination helped the battalion to cross the planks 
 which bridged the wide, deep trenches excavated 
 from side to side of the road. The rear guard, 
 when it finally withdrew from the town, would re- 
 move those bridges. 
 
 The battalion tramped on. The eastern sky, to- 
 ward which they marched, grew lighter. But the 
 night had not yet lifted. Looking back, a dark sky 
 was suffused with a ruddy reflection. Fierce rifle 
 fire crackled, rippled, leaped to smashing volleys 
 behind them. Distant machine guns hammered 
 loudly with viciously rapid strokes. The German 
 battery, which they had now passed, answered the 
 evidently increasing numbers of French guns with 
 sharp loud reports, single now that they were no 
 longer in front of its muzzles, regularly and quickly 
 repeated, incessant. The battalion marched on with 
 the comfortable feeling that the fight was behind 
 them, receding with every beat of its thousand boots 
 upon the road. 
 
 Suddenly it halted, remained stationary for so 
 many minutes that an anxiety rose in every man, was 
 
ZU BEFEHL! 37 
 
 communicated to his fellows as they listened to the 
 savagely vehement rifle fire behind them. An order 
 was passed down the column confirming their augury. 
 The battalion turned right about, its direction re- 
 versed. Hans Kellner's company was now at the 
 head of the column. He heard the hollow hoof beats 
 of the major's horse as the commander cantered 
 down the road to take up his new position in front. 
 A sharp order and the battalion was once more in 
 motion. This time they marched toward that near 
 ruddy glow in the sky, toward the menace of the 
 fiercely crackling rifles. They scanned the dark 
 horizon with questioning eyes. Men in that long, 
 sombre succession of ranks shifted their packs with 
 an uneasy movement of the shoulders — felt suddenly 
 hungry. 
 
 They descended into the town and scrambled 
 once more over the precarious bridges spanning the 
 trenches across the road. The battery behind them 
 banged away rapidly. They prayed inwardly that 
 it might not cease. The battalion halted once more 
 in the gutted square, eerie with its faint reflections 
 upon skeletal walls from glowing red heaps within. 
 The commander gave his orders. The hauptmann 
 commanding Kellner's company barked out his ex- 
 cerpt from them. The company ascended the hill 
 to the westward, along the main road by which the 
 bulk of the troops had retreated. The men cast un- 
 quiet glances at the shattered houses on either hand. 
 The French shells rushing to burst among the ruins 
 
88 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 seemed each one vindictively accurate as it ap- 
 proached. 
 
 The company halted. The subaltern officers re- 
 ceived their final orders, returned to their sections. 
 Once more upon the march Hans Kellner turned into 
 that gateway where, not twenty-four hours before, he 
 had sunned himself with Marie-Louise perched upon 
 his shoulder. The barns on either side of it were 
 now mere glowing heaps, hot to the face as he passed 
 between them. The farmhouse beyond was a mass 
 of charred rafters studded with spots of red fire 
 vivid in the gloom. His squad was halted in the 
 courtyard; the remainder of the section passed on. 
 
 A sergeant led them to their position, just out- 
 side the smoking wreck of a line of stables, fronting 
 the dark night westward. The men lay down, shel- 
 tered more or less by heaps of bricks. The sergeant 
 left them to contemplate the Invisible rifle fire, now 
 loud and near, in front of them. Hans Kellner 
 turned himself, looked back and saw the ghostily 
 glimmering white trunks of the silent orchard 
 wounded unto death. 
 
 Suddenly a memory lodged itself in his mind, 
 haunting him as he lay there waiting the moment 
 for action. It was the memory of the old woman, 
 bound, gagged, in a chair in the courtyard just be- 
 hind him. He wondered. He had not seen her. 
 But then he had not looked, had not remembered 
 her. What if she were still there, helpless — ^the 
 fight to surge round her at any moment ? He tried 
 
ZU BEFEHL! 39 
 
 to dismiss the thought, vaguely feeling it an un- 
 worthy weakness, but failed. At last, impelled as 
 by a decision emanating from without himself, he 
 rose and crept back into the courtyard. 
 
 He found her. She sat there, beyond a glowing 
 smoking heap, her eyes glaring, terrible in her silent 
 immobility among this ruin. Shrinking from her in 
 a curious fear he cut her free. She sat for a mo- 
 ment or two, numbed. Her body seemed dead, only 
 her eyes alive. He stood beside her, fascinated; 
 pushed her to assure himself that she yet lived. On 
 the instant, with a wild effort, a horrid cry, she 
 sprang at his face. Startled Into self-defence he 
 felled her headlong to the ground. 
 
 He had scarcely settled himself again shoulder 
 to shoulder with his comrades behind the heaps of 
 bricks when he heard a torrent of hoof beats, a 
 wild rush of cavalrymen in panic gallop upon the 
 main road to his left. They swept past, like wilde 
 jdger pursued by demons, down into the town. Be- 
 hind them the rifle fire burst out loud and prolonged. 
 Hans Kellner saw sharp spurts of flame leap out 
 away in the darkness into which he gazed. Bullets 
 cracked above his head. The French were pressing 
 very close. He looked up to see his officer standing 
 behind him, rose at his word. 
 
 *'Kellner, you are in command of this squad I 
 There will be no retreat. You will die at your 
 post!" 
 
 Hans Kellner saluted. 
 
40 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 **Zu Befehl, Herr LeutnantP* he said simply. 
 
 The officer passed on. 
 
 Suddenly Kellner thought he saw shadowy fig- 
 ures advancing across the field in front of him. He 
 steadied himself into a firing position after one 
 brief glance behind him, where, he thanked God, 
 the fire in the farmhouse had died down into dark- 
 ness. He pulled trigger with the rest in one long, 
 irregular volley from the company stretched far to 
 right and left of him. The spurts of flame, the rapid 
 detonations continued, were supported by the quick, 
 loud hammering of a machine gun ; were answered 
 by similar spurts, similar detonations from the dark- 
 ness in front. After a few minutes the tumult sub- 
 sided. Single shots preceded an uncanny silence. 
 
 In that silence Hans Kellner suddenly jumped with 
 superstitious terror. A voice wailed mournfully 
 "Marie-Louise! Marie-Louise!'* in a long-drawn 
 cry. He half raised himself, glanced back at the 
 farmhouse. A bright glow rose from it. With 
 the first hostile shot he understood in a flash that he 
 was fatally silhouetted. 
 
 The victorious Frenchmen surging over the 
 wrecked stables into the courtyard found an insane 
 old woman raking among a heap of embers seeking 
 Marie-Louise. 
 
II 
 
 IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 
 
 THE bombardment had already lasted nearly a 
 week. In the deep dugout that harboured the 
 headquarters of a regiment ^ defending a sector of 
 the Front its continuing fury arrived merely as a suc- 
 cession of jarring thuds that jangled the after-lunch 
 liqueur glasses on the rough table and imparted a 
 quiver to the chairs occupied by the members of 
 the mess. To touch the boarded walls was to re- 
 ceive an unpleasant, almost painful, vibration. The 
 glowing electric-light bulb pendent from the steel- 
 girded roof shone steadily, despite those heavier 
 shocks that punctuated irregularly the steady series 
 of muffled blows. 
 
 The atmosphere was hot with the radiation from 
 a closed stove in a corner, and thick with tobacco 
 smoke. Through the wreathing, slowly drifting 
 fumes could be seen the large maps, crisscrossed with 
 an infinity of lines — red here, blue there — and di- 
 vided into prominently numbered squares, which cov- 
 ered the walls. 
 
 The regiment commander, whose sallow, deeply 
 
 *The German infantry brigade is composed of two regiments 
 of three battalions each ; two brigades to a division. 
 
 41 
 
42 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 lined face revealed the ravage of present anxieties 
 upon a man as old as the whiteness of his moustache 
 and eyebrows indicated him to be, broke off from a 
 brooding contemplation of those maps and leaned 
 forward to pour himself out some more coffee. The 
 Iron Cross dangling from the middle buttonhole of 
 his tunic tinkled against his empty liqueur glass. He 
 refilled both coffee cup and glass with a hand that 
 shook. 
 
 The two other occupants of the dugout, a staff 
 captain and a young lieutenant, were absorbed in 
 the latest batch of illustrated papers. 
 
 There was the noise of footsteps stumblingly de- 
 scending the steep stairway of the dugout, and the 
 door opened. A tall officer in a long coat yellow 
 with mud stood stiffly erect at the entrance and 
 saluted with a swift, precise gesture and a click of 
 heels. 
 
 "Hauptmann Hofmeisterl" he barked out. 
 
 The regiment commander, who had been peering 
 toward him through the filmy tobacco smoke, drew 
 himself erect also, and with an exactly similar in- 
 tonation replied: 
 
 "Oberst von Forsterl" 
 
 The staff captain had jumped up so hastily from 
 his chair that it fell about his legs. 
 
 **Lieher Hofmeister I" he cried, shaking the new- 
 comer by the hand. "We were expecting you. Are 
 you quite recovered from your wound?" He turned 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 4^ 
 
 to the colonel. "Hofmeister and I were in the same 
 regiment on the Somme, Herr Oberst." ~ 
 
 The Oberst nodded and extended his hand to the 
 new arrival. 
 
 "You come at a difficult moment, Hauptmann 
 Hofmeister. Sit down! Have you eaten? Wal- 
 dow 1" 
 
 The young lieutenant was already halfway to 
 the door. Hofmeister stopped him. *T had Mit- 
 tagessen with the division," he said. "They told 
 me something of the situation, Herr Oberst." 
 
 "They didn't say the brigade was being relieved?" 
 asked the colonel, clutching at a phantasm of hope 
 that flitted across his anxieties. 
 
 Hofmeister shook his head. "No, Herr Oberst. 
 The brigade will not be relieved until after the Eng- 
 enders have made their attack." 
 
 Oberst von Forster performed a little gesture in 
 which both his hands and his head were expressive 
 of his relapse to pessimism. 
 
 "I hope they will find something to relieve in that 
 case," he said bitterly. ''Ach! Those people who 
 sit back there in safety! Well, you come to us and 
 Grenzmann goes back to the division. And I hope, 
 Grenzmann, that you'll give them an idea of the 
 sort of existence we lead here." 
 
 Grenzmann nodded. 
 
 ''Naturlich, Herr Oberst," he said cheerfully, 
 fixing already in his mind the picture of the grum- 
 
44 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 bling, doddering old colonel with which he meant 
 to regale the divisional mess. 
 
 "Now, Hofmeister," said the Oberst, "since you 
 have already eaten let us get to work. They told 
 you at divisional headquarters that we are expecting 
 an attack — a big attack?" 
 
 He emphasised the largeness of the menace. His 
 face looked startlingly haggard, close under the 
 electric light. *This new Siegfried Line" — the new 
 line from the Aisne to the north of Arras, taken 
 up by the Germans last spring, was called by them 
 the Siegfried Line, by the English the Hindenburg 
 Line — "will be tested to the utmost — and we shall 
 see if it is as strong as they make out. I am con- 
 fident in it myself" — he stopped — "if only we have 
 enough troops to hold it. If it breaks " 
 
 He stopped again, sketched an expressive little 
 gesture. "We have a battalion in front line, the 
 others in support. Show him the positions on the 
 map, Grenzmann." 
 
 He waited while the two officers obeyed, poring 
 over the trench map, murmuring together. As they 
 straightened their backs there was a knock at the 
 door of the dugout. 
 
 ** Herein!'* said the Oberst, putting down his 
 liqueur glass. 
 
 A signal orderly entered. He held out a tele- 
 gram. Grenzmann took it, opened it with a quick 
 movement, glanced at the message. 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 45 
 
 "From the forward battalion, Herr Oberst — ^by 
 telephone, priority — ^they're asking again to be re- 
 lieved " 
 
 He passed the message across to the regiment 
 commander. "They're having a bad time," he added 
 confidentially to Hofmeister. "That's the third 
 time in twenty-four hours they have asked for re- 
 lief/' 
 
 Oberst von Forster wrinkled his brows over the 
 message. ^'Schrecklich, schrecklich/^ he muttered; 
 "but what can I do? We must not be caught mov- 
 ing I We must not be caught!" 
 
 He frowned at the words, which despite their of- 
 ficial formality were eloquent of the agonised despair 
 that had spoken at the other end of the telephone. 
 
 " ^Disclaim responsibility if disaster occurs to the 
 sector' — ^yes, they throw It on me — ^they throw it 
 on me." 
 
 He stood for some moments bending over the 
 paper, then he suddenly drew himself erect. "I 
 must see for myself." There was a new tone of 
 decision in his voice. "Hofmeister — I am going 
 up to the front line. Come with me I You will be 
 able to familiarise yourself with the situation." 
 
 Hauptmann Hofmeister saluted with stiff pre- 
 cision and stood rigid. 
 
 ''Zu Befehl, Herr Oberst." 
 
 "You, Waldow — ^you come too; and Grenzmann, 
 you remain here — deal with anything that comes 
 in." 
 
46 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The old man, long oppressed by the imagined 
 possibilities over which he brooded in the pent seclu- 
 sion of the dugout, was unfeignedly glad at the 
 prospect of escape into the open air. Swiftly he 
 donned his long coat, looked to his automatic pistol 
 and emergency ration, slung over his shoulder the 
 strap of the slate-grey cylindrical tin box that held 
 his gas mask. 
 
 "Hurry, Waldow!" he said to the lieutenant, 
 who was busily engaged in similar preparations. 
 "Where's my steel helmet?" He hummed a bar 
 or two of a song in a cheerful key. "We'll teach 
 these damned Englanders, Hofmeister!" he said 
 with a little laugh. "They'll never get a yard of 
 the Siegfried Line I Not they!" He was reassur- 
 ing himself more than his hearers. "You know 
 the idea of it, Hofmeister? Not like the Somme 
 days. No I Das war schrecklichf schreckUch! 
 Trying to hold those front trenches — we played 
 their game I But now these deep defensive zones — 
 full of cunning bits of trenches and hidden machine 
 guns — if they got in to them they will be killed to 
 the last man, or what is left of them will be driven 
 back to their own lines. Ein grosser Geist — Hin- 
 denburg! Ein grosser Geist fUr die grosse Zeit! 
 'S wird ein famoser Sieg seinf J a — gewiss — gewissJ' 
 
 He hummed a bar or two of the song the Ger- 
 man soldiers had sung when they marched to war 
 in the brave days of 1914: '' Tuppchenf du hist 
 mein' Augen Schatz ' Come, Hofmeister I 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 47 
 
 Waldow! Fertig? ForwdrtsT* He laughed, ex- 
 cited as a schoolboy, his haggard, sallow face pur- 
 pling with blood, his eyes alight under the bushy 
 white eyebrows. *^Dank* set Gott we get out of this 
 damned hole I" He led the way out of the dug- 
 out. 
 
 "We shall probably be glad enough to get back 
 to it," murmured the young lieutenant as he fol- 
 lowed him. 
 
 Outside the dugout an electric light illumined the 
 passage that communicated with the signal and office 
 apartments of the subterranean headquarters. Two 
 or three orderlies on duty sprang to erect rigidity 
 as the regiment commander passed. 
 
 He commenced the ascent of the steep narrow 
 stairway, slippery with yellow mud. Hofmeister 
 and Waldow followed at his heels. The deep steel 
 helmets curving down to the neck lent their heads a 
 quaint touch of the antique. Von Forster had but 
 half emerged into the chilly atmosphere of an over- 
 cast afternoon when he stopped, with the instinctive 
 paralysis of imminent danger. A long-drawn whine 
 broadened rapidly to a threatening rush in the air; 
 approached, passed and culminated in a heavy, me- 
 tallic crash in the instant in which he ducked his 
 head. 
 
 ''Verfluchte EngldnderT muttered Von Waldow 
 below him. 
 
 The three men paused until the rain of earth 
 clods and debris had ceased. Then they emerged 
 
48 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 from the stairway. The black smoke from the just- 
 burst shell drifted over a near prospect of hoof- 
 holed mud, tumbled bricks and protruding rafters. 
 The headquarters dugouts were excavated on the 
 site of a ruined farm. Farther away, beyond the 
 puddled morass which was a road, a battery of 
 field guns — each weapon hidden in an emplacement 
 of mud merging with the desolate expanse of mud 
 across which they were spaced — banged away rap- 
 idly, the spurt of flame vivid against the low grey 
 sky. Their muzzles pointed westward to where a 
 long featureless ridge, not far distant, rose darkly, 
 to contrast with a band of light that just hinted at 
 the afternoon sun behind the clouds. 
 
 Against the illumination, founts of black smoke 
 sprang up from the summit of the ridge in a wide- 
 stretched simultaneity of appearance, incessantly re- 
 newed, that baffled the attempt to count, climbed yet 
 a little, and hung poised before they broke and 
 drifted, formlessly and thinning. Shrapnel, white 
 and heavy black, dotted the ridge horizon In magic- 
 ally reinforced handfuls. Over the hinterland be- 
 tween the battery and the high ground the brown and 
 black smoke of other shell bursts shot up from a 
 score of places at once. Far and near over that 
 cloud-hung wilderness a scintillation of quick, short 
 gun flashes betrayed the positions of German bat- 
 teries otherwise Invisible. 
 
 The world was full of noise. Close at hand the 
 yiolent rapid reports of the field battery, furiously 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 49 
 
 at work, blotted, as it were, momentarily the chaos 
 of heavy sound that rolled, reverberating, between 
 unexpected and confused climaxes of coincident 
 salvos. From behind came the gruff double thud of 
 the German howitzers, overpowered from instant to* 
 instant by the loud, sharp detonation of a heavy 
 gun. In the air above was a continual rushing of 
 shells, those of large calibre rumbling onward like 
 a laden tramcar, the smaller projectiles fiercely sibi- 
 lant, varied by a banshee howl where a driving band 
 had torn loose. Far away to the west the continu- 
 ous discharges of the English guns were an under- 
 tone of muttered thunder. The detonations of shell 
 bursts and trench-mortar bombs upon the ridge were 
 indistinguishable in the welter of slam and crash and 
 rumbling broken roars that rolled under the low 
 sky. 
 
 The colonel stood for a moment contemplating 
 the scene, with the narrowed eyes and bent brow of 
 a seaman who endeavours to estimate the fury of a 
 coming storm. The new staff captain gazed also, 
 fixing the lie of the land by glanced references to 
 his map. The lieutenant stood nervously biting his 
 lower lip, the muscles of his face quivering, his knees 
 shaking despite an effort of his will. This was no 
 good place to loiter in the open. 
 
 His apprehensive brain, agonisedly alert for the 
 definite sound, identified in a spasm of hyperacute 
 faculty a scarce distinguishable distant pop I among 
 the uproar. 
 
50 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Here it comes !" he cried. 
 
 There was a pause, and then, distinct among all 
 the other sounds, the whine of a rapidly approaching 
 shell detached itself, coming straight toward them. 
 Like one man they flung themselves flat upon the mud 
 in the instant that it rushed to the deafening crash 
 of its explosion. Face downward, they heard the 
 continued fall of the upcast debris, the whine of its 
 splintered fragments. Mud rained upon them. 
 
 The colonel sprang to his feet. 
 
 "Hurry I'' he said. "There will be another." 
 
 The others followed him as he hastened toward 
 the puddled road and turned along it. The deep 
 mud sucked at their boots and splashed, liquid, to 
 their knees. They plunged onward, desperately at 
 strain to get away from the danger spot. A little 
 farther on, where the road sank below the level of 
 the land, a communication trench opened into it on 
 the right. A signboard all askew named it — Si^es- 
 Allee. They dived into it just as the whine and rush 
 and crash of the expected shell emphasised the ne- 
 cessity for their haste. 
 
 The trench was deep and wide, excavated on a 
 trace not of sharp angles but of serpentine curves. 
 The rails of a miniature tramway followed its shel- 
 ter. The three officers stepped from one to another 
 of the metal sleepers that squelched beneath them 
 in the liquid mud. A few hundred yards along the 
 trench they overtook a stationary train of four 
 trucks, a midget petrol engine at the head. The 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 51 
 
 Unteroffizier In charge stood up quickly from his 
 conversation with the driver perched upon the 
 quaintly small tractor. He saluted at the approach 
 of the regiment commander. 
 
 "What are you doing with this ammunition?" 
 asked Von Forster angrily. "Why are you 
 stopped?" 
 
 The man shrank and stammered. 
 
 **Die — die Granaten — Herr OberstI" 
 
 The colonePs rage leaped to fury. 
 
 "Shells I Dummes ZeugT He slashed the man 
 across the head with his trench stick. "This ammu- 
 nition Is urgently required. Auf! Vorwarts! And 
 don^t stop till I tell you!" He clambered onto the 
 truck, behind the tractor, Hofmelster and Von Wal- 
 dow imitating him, and sat on the stack of ammuni- 
 tion boxes. The frightened driver started his en- 
 gine, and as the train commenced to move squeal- 
 ingly and slowly onward the Unteroffizier sprang 
 onto the rear truck. 
 
 "Report yourself under arrest I" Von Forster 
 shouted at him. "The men in the trenches might be 
 dying for lack of this ammunition to-night," he 
 added to Hofmelster. "We have had terrible diffi- 
 culty In getting up supplies this last week." 
 
 The little train rattled and squealed and jolted 
 along the trench, moving at a fair pace. The high 
 earth walls permitted no vision of the countryside; 
 but the constant overhead scream of shells, the ever- 
 recurring crashes, were a stimulus to the imagination. 
 
52 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Every few minutes a ball of white smoke jumped 
 into the near air with a sharp detonation, and occa- 
 sionally shrapnel bullets hammered on the trucks. 
 Still they went on. 
 
 Once, looking up, they perceived an aeroplane low 
 down in the sky. 
 
 *'Brave fellow, that!" shouted Von Forster above 
 the deafening noise of the tractor. He followed it 
 with his eyes. It swerved and swooped toward them. 
 With a cry he pointed to the red and blue circles 
 on its wings. "English!" Immediately they saw 
 faint spurts near its propeller, heard the distinct 
 raps of its machine gun. Flicks of earth leaped up 
 along the top of the trench wall ; there were splashes 
 in the water ahead. The driver turned a scared face 
 to the colonel. 
 
 "On! On!" shouted Von Forster. 
 
 The driver put on his best speed. The train 
 rocked and roared in the narrow passage. Look- 
 ing up, they saw puff after puff of shrapnel burst 
 round the aeroplane. It climbed and headed for 
 home. They rushed onward. The minutes passed. 
 
 Suddenly there was an appalling hiss, a deafening 
 explosion in the bend just ahead of them. Another 
 followed it, and another. Black smoke rolled down 
 on them, blotting out vision. The brakes squealed, 
 responding to the apprehension of the driver, as the 
 train rounded the corner. Explosion followed ex- 
 plosion in the mass of smoke. The aeroplane had 
 reported to its battery. 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 33 
 
 The train stopped with a fierce jerk. It had run 
 into the fallen-in walls of the trench. The driver 
 sank over his tractor, killed by a flying fragment. 
 The others sprang off. 
 
 "Remain with the ammunition!" shouted Von 
 Forster to the N. C. O. He himself, followed by 
 his officers, ran crouchingly back along the train and 
 clambered out of the trench. Shell after shell 
 swooped down upon the fatal spot just ahead. 
 
 For a moment or two the three officers crouched 
 among irregular heaps of sodden, tumbled earth. 
 The colonel looked at his map, fixed his whereabouts. 
 Pointing, he drew Hofmeister's attention to a scarce 
 distinguishable trench line on the slope of the ridge, 
 away to the right. A pole bearing a small notice 
 board stuck up in the otherwise featureless prospect, 
 a little behind the trench. 
 
 "The support battalion!*' he shouted. "Battalion 
 headquarters there!" He pointed to the notice 
 board. "We will go straight on — see them coming 
 back!" 
 
 The lieutenant, who had dallied with a hope, fol- 
 lowed his seniors. The colonel made a wide circuit 
 round the length of communication trench that was 
 still being punished. More than once they flung 
 themselves down to escape shells that came with a 
 long swooping whine and rush, to explode in their 
 vicinity. The shrapnel, that burst irregularly in 
 patches over the slope, could not be avoided. They 
 could only pray for immunity and hope their hel- 
 
54 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 mets would resist a chance bullet on their heads. 
 The bombardment continued steadily on both sides, 
 neither increasing nor diminishing. 
 
 The summit of the ridge, still upspouting its foun- 
 tains of black smoke and canopied with drifting 
 shrapnel puffs, was an empty desolation at this nearer 
 view. The continuous detonations of the explosives 
 that hailed upon it were now the chief feature in the 
 bewildering volume of noise that was incessantly 
 reinforced from near and far. 
 
 Another shell rushed over their heads, finished 
 with a soft thud in the earth — "A *dud' I" cried the 
 colonel, with a laugh of relief. Another followed, 
 
 finished with similar softness No! All three 
 
 glanced behind them in sudden alarm as the third 
 and fourth shells terminated their careers with the 
 same quiet thuds. A light cloud of dense vapour 
 was creeping low upon the ground, extending lat- 
 erally as shell after shell pitched to feed It. The 
 wind was northeasterly, behind them, and brought 
 them a peculiar odour. 
 
 "Quick, Herr Oberst I'* Hofmesiter unbuckled the 
 lid of his chief's gas-mask box, and then his own. 
 Von Waldow wanted no urging. The three of them 
 fitted the masks under their helmets, looking curi- 
 ously porcine with the protruding tin snouts. Then 
 they ran, slowly but with immense effort, over the 
 yielding shell-torn ground, stumbling over inequali- 
 '^ies dimly perceived through the celluloid goggles of 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 55 
 
 the masks. The gas drifted round them as they 
 ran. 
 
 They tripped over a party of prone men lying 
 in odd attitudes, fresh blood upon their faces and 
 oozing through the grey cloth of their backs. Boxes 
 of stores lay round them, scattered and broken. It 
 was a fatigue party, caught by shrapnel. One man 
 half raised himself, moved an arm. The gas drifted 
 over them. The officers ran on. 
 
 They dropped into the communication trench, here 
 badly destroyed, and dodged from hollow to hollow 
 of the wet, crumbling earth, following its trace. On 
 either hand the rush and shattering crash of arriv- 
 ing shells were the accompaniment of each instant. 
 The shrapnel overhead was an imminent peril, mirac- 
 ulously escaped from moment to moment. The Brit- 
 ish were putting down a barrage, not very intense 
 but extremely dangerous, behind the front lines. 
 
 The pale gas cloud drifted over a wide area, look- 
 ing like the low mist on a wet field at evening. 
 
 The entrances of other wrecked trenches opened 
 to right and left of them. All were deserted. Save 
 the stricken ration party, they saw no one. Sud- 
 denly the Oberst turned to the right, dived along a 
 lateral passage and stopped where a man crouched 
 in a low, dark, timber-supported hole. 
 
 He pushed the man aside, slipped in and de- 
 scended many steep, slippery steps. The others fol- 
 lowed him. They found themselves in a small square 
 dugout illuminated by a candle. The walls and roof 
 
56 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 were supported by balks of heavy timber. A rough 
 table was in the middle, telephone instrument upon 
 it. Several ammunition boxes served for seats. Pick 
 and shovel rested against the wall. Two men rose 
 to their feet as the colonel entered. They were 
 plastered with mud from head to foot. Their hag- 
 gard eyes looked out of faces that had been neither 
 washed nor shaved for many days. Both saluted 
 punctiliously. Von Forster sank, exhausted, onto a 
 seat. He nodded faintly as he removed his mask. 
 The two others also divested themselves of their gro- 
 tesque headgear. Von Waldow proffered his flask. 
 
 Refreshed, the colonel looked about him. 
 
 **I came to see for myself, major," he said. "You 
 are having a bad time?" 
 
 **SchreckUchr* replied the battalion commander. 
 "We have scarcely three hundred left. This is Lieu- 
 tenant Stein, Herr Oberst — acting adjutant; pool* 
 Kaunitz has been killed." 
 
 The colonel nodded. 
 
 "This is Hauptmann Hofmeister — he replaces 
 Grenzmann, who goes back to the division. I 
 brought him up to see how things stand." 
 
 Hofmeister saluted. 
 
 "If only we had more men, Herr Oberst I" said 
 the battalion commander. "We ought to be relieved 
 — replaced by two or three fresh battalions. We 
 want a division where we have barely a brigade. 
 Surely we have enough troops?" 
 
 "There are masses of them somewhere in the 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 57 
 
 rear," replied Von Forster. "They are keeping 
 them for the counterattack. We must do our best." 
 
 Hofmeister spoke to the adjutant. 
 
 "Is the shellfire at its height?" he asked. 
 
 "No, Herr Hauptmann, it has slackened — par- 
 ticularly on the forward positions." 
 
 "I should like to see them. Is it possible?" 
 
 "We can try, Herr Hauptmann." 
 
 "You permit, Herr Oberst?" 
 
 "Certainly — certainly." 
 
 Lieutenant Stein donned his steel helmet. 
 
 The afternoon was drawing toward dusk, but 
 there was still plenty of light as they emerged into 
 the wrecked trench. 
 
 Lieutenant Stein led the way over the soft shell- 
 heaped masses of crumbHng earth, heading toward 
 the summit of the ridge. They went crouchingly, 
 now stumbling forward onto their hands, now sink- 
 ing up to their knees. The shells continued to ar- 
 rive, upflinging brown mud with the black smoke or 
 stopping short in the air with a sudden apparition of 
 white cotton wool, lit momentarily by a red flash, 
 that floated lazily. But it was no longer the intense 
 bombardment of a little time ago, and movement, 
 though risky, was possible. Stein went diagonally 
 to his right front, where a more or less prolonged 
 depression among the shell holes indicated the site 
 of a trench. A party of men, not readily distin- 
 guishable in their mud-caked grey, were shovelling 
 
58 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 at a mass of churned earth. The two officers ap- 
 proached them. 
 
 "Dugout blown In, Herr Lieutenant," said the 
 Unteroffizier in charge. The men looked up, their 
 faces pinched and drawn, indescribably dirty and 
 miserable. They shovelled doggedly. 
 
 Hofmeister asked a question of his guide. 
 
 "We have a company here flanking this area," 
 replied Stein; "Oberlieutenant Schwarz in com- 
 mand." 
 
 Hofmeister glanced across the shell-torn stretch 
 menaced by this ruined trench, ere they dropped into 
 the depression and followed it. Encouraged by the 
 diminution of the bombardment men were emerg- 
 ing from their holes of refuge, appearing mysteri- 
 ously as from nowhere among the heaps of earth. 
 They carried spades, and N. C. O.'s set them to re- 
 bank the parapet and to clear away the debris from 
 machine-gun emplacements. 
 
 An officer approached. It was the lieutenant in 
 command of the company. Hofmeister introduced 
 himself. 
 
 "Can't you arrange to get up some kind of ra- 
 tions?" asked the company commander querulously. 
 "My men are starving. They have had scarcely any- 
 thing to eat for three days. How can they fight? It 
 is scandalous, the way we are left — scandalous 1" 
 He glared at Hofmeister as though charging him 
 with personal responsibility, careless of his superior 
 rank. 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 59 
 
 Hofmeister promised to do what he could. 
 
 "The casualties too!" continued Oberlieutenant 
 Schwarz. "Why is an effort not made to get them 
 away? Come and see?" 
 
 He led the staff captain along the trench to the 
 entrance of a deep dugout. Hofmeister descended, 
 found himself in a large excavated chamber lit by 
 an acetylene flare — and recoiled suddenly. The 
 stench was insupportable. The floor was carpeted 
 with supine bodies, bandaged in all fashions. The 
 doctor came toward him, stepping carefully among 
 the stricken men. 
 
 "Ah I You have come to evacuate?" he cried. 
 His face fell at Hofmeister^s negative shake of the 
 head. "No I But, lieher Hauptmann, this state of 
 things is impossible — unerhort! We must get them 
 away ! Some of them have been here for four days. 
 I have no more room. What will happen when the 
 attack comes?" 
 
 Hauptmann Hofmeister shrugged his shoulders — 
 hedauerte, 
 
 "Regret 1" cried the doctor. "It is easy to re- 
 gret I These men are dying — German soldiers, dying 
 in their filth. Is this the glory that you promised 
 them, the joy of dying for the Fatherland that you 
 war makers prate of? I tell you" — he shook his 
 fist in the staff captain's face — "you brought about 
 this misery deliberately — you prolong it in your 
 vain blind gamble for an impossible victory — it is 
 your duty to relieve it — to relieve it at once !" 
 
60 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "You are overwrought, Herr Doctor," said Hof- 
 meister. "You want a rest.'* 
 
 "Overwrought?" The doctor laughed like a 
 maniac. "Look at it I Look at it I I live in this 
 night and day, and ever more are coming I A rest? 
 Yes, that is what we all want, a rest from this fiend- 
 ish murder you continue " 
 
 He clutched vainly at the staff captain's coat as 
 Hofmeister shrugged his shoulders once more and 
 went quickly up the stairs of the dugout. 
 
 "As if I was responsible I" he said to Stein, who 
 had stood behind him. "As if I also am not sick to 
 death of it all ! I shall be glad when the Englanders 
 attack. Perhaps there will be an end of it then." 
 
 The adjutant took him from point to point of the 
 position, crawling and floundering from shell hole to 
 shell hole. Here and there a short length of dam- 
 aged trench was being repaired, but the major por- 
 tion of the defence was organised in shell craters 
 wherein lurked little groups of men about a machine 
 gun. Some of these craters were open to the sky, 
 but many were covered with circular lids of camou- 
 flage, imitating brown earth and sometimes water, 
 that should baffle the eyes of the airmen spying out 
 the defences. One stumbled on these positions with- 
 out remarking them, so cunningly were they devised. 
 At the critical moment these lids would lift just a 
 little and a machine gun would peep forth. 
 
 In this slackening of the bombardment a surpris- 
 ing number of grey figures, miraculously surviving 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 61 
 
 in this featureless chaos of tumbled earth, could just 
 be discerned, head and shoulders, upon the summit 
 of the ridge, desperately at toil to cast up a better 
 shelter for themselves against the fiercer storm that 
 was surely coming. About their feet lay the bodies 
 of those who had finished with war. The water in 
 the shell holes, dissolving rust from submerged ob- 
 jects, was red as with their blood. 
 
 Cautiously in the gathering dusk Hofmeister and 
 the adjutant crept forward to where the dense masses 
 of rusty barbed wire lay beaten down from stake to 
 stake. There had been a front-line trench here once 
 — it was now obliterated in the complete devasta- 
 tion of shell craters linked rim to rim. Lookout men 
 lurked in them here and there. 
 
 From one of these craters the two officers peered 
 stealthily toward the English lines. The nearer part 
 of the No Man's Land was freshly scarred with 
 shells that had dropped short. Farther away the 
 long rank grass still grew, was thicker as it ap- 
 proached the British wire, which it all but hid. 
 
 "Do you see?** said Stein, nudging his companion. 
 "It is already cut. There — and there!" 
 
 It was just possible to make out where lanes had 
 been cut through the entanglement, though the tall 
 grass still waved above the stakes. Beyond it the 
 rough earth and sandbag wall of the British parapet 
 stretched in front of them, almost intact, following 
 the contour of the land until it disappeared into the 
 mist on the right and the left. It was quiet, appar- 
 
62 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 ently deserted. Far behind it a patch of green field 
 was just visible in the fading light. A desultory can- 
 nonade from both sides boomed and slammed spas- 
 modically. By contrast with the preceding bom- 
 bardment the world seemed peaceful. 
 
 A rifle spoke from the opposing trench. The two 
 officers ducked. A machine gun commenced to ham- 
 mer out short interrupted bursts of fire, traversing 
 the crater field, its bullets cracking above their heads 
 as they cowered in the watery mud of their hole. 
 It ceased. With infinite precautions they crawled out 
 and stole backward toward the battalion head- 
 quarters. 
 
 Ssss I Ssss ! Ssss I Ssss ! — a group of shells rushed 
 to burst in quick succession on the ground about 
 them. Another series followed ere the detonations 
 of the first had ceased. From behind came the rapid 
 slamming of English guns, merging far and wide into 
 one long-continued thudding beat, half-obscured by 
 near explosions. 
 
 "Hurry, Herr Hauptmann!" cried the adjutant. 
 "The bombardment has started again!" 
 
 They ran, desperately straining to get over the 
 soft ground. About them, in the failing light now 
 fitfully intensified by faint flashes, they saw grey- 
 clad figures dashing to cover. Crash after crash 
 shook earth and heaven. Black smoke drifted over 
 them. The reek of burnt explosive filled their nos- 
 trils, caught their breath. Wild flights of shells 
 raced overhead, to burst far beyond, flight upon 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 63 
 
 flight. Rockets, red and white, shot up into the 
 sky from all along the ridge. 
 
 Panting, feeling their continued existence to be a 
 miracle that might be at any moment terminated, 
 they flung themselves into the trench and rushed for 
 the headquarters dugout. They threw themselves 
 into its aperture just as the adjacent earth went up 
 with quick red flash and appalling roar. 
 
 In the dugout Von Forster and the battalion com- 
 mander stood anxiously behind an artillery observa- 
 tion officer bent over the telephone instrument on the 
 table. He was vainly trying to elicit a reply. Lieu- 
 tenant von Waldow was absent. 
 
 The artillery officer straightened himself and 
 sketched a hopeless gesture. 
 
 "The line has gone again!" he cried, his voice 
 partially swallowed by the din. "All the lines are 
 broken I" 
 
 Von Forster turned to Hofmeister. 
 
 "I have sent Von Waldow to try to signal back — 
 these people must be relieved," he said. His face 
 was haggard with anxiety, his hand tapped nerv- 
 ously on the table. 
 
 "Too late, Herr Oberstl" said the battalion com- 
 mander, sinking limply onto one of the ammunition 
 boxes. "This is the beginning of the end." 
 
 The Oberst ignored him impatiently. 
 
 "We must get back ourselves, Hofmeister. We 
 must not be trapped here. We can do nothing- 
 nothing unless we get back to headquarters." 
 
e4 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Impossible, Herr Oberst," said Hofmeister. 
 "There is a barrage behind us." 
 
 "We must try — ^try at all costs I I wish Waldow 
 would come back I" 
 
 At that moment the young lieutenant came slith- 
 ering down the stairway. 
 
 "It is hell outside— hell!" he cried. "The sig- 
 nailers are all buried. The entire ridge is being 
 blown into the air I The fire is worse than ever I 
 
 I was buried myself Oh, I am wounded I" 
 
 He finished in a cry of alarm. His left arm was 
 dripping blood on the floor. He rocked on his feet, 
 seemed about to faint. 
 
 Hofmeister ripped back the stricken man's tunic, 
 produced a first-aid dressing. 
 
 "It is nothing," he said, bandaging the arm. "A 
 scratch. You will be all right. A month in Berlin 
 for you." 
 
 "We shall all be killed," gasped the young man, 
 terror in his eyes. 
 
 "Just listen to it I" cried the artillery officer. 
 "These Englanders do know how to put down drum 
 fire I" 
 
 Outside, the viciously violent detonations followed 
 each other without an instant's pause, deafening the 
 ear, shaking the dugout with fierce double concus- 
 sions, seeming to rend the earth to its core with each 
 quickly reiterated shock. It was obvious that noth- 
 ing could live in the open. The shelter of any dug- 
 out was precarious. They held their breath for the 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 66 
 
 stunning roar that should terminate their existence. 
 All were trembling. The candle went out repeatedly 
 — could not be kept alight. Some one switched on 
 his electric pocket lamp, kept it shining across the 
 small dank cave. Darkness was insupportable. Panic 
 lurked in it, beating on them with each new shock 
 that crashed without. The sight of the heavy timber 
 balks, of the roof intact, preserved a faint confi- 
 dence, a hope that was scarcely more than a symp- 
 tom of the desperate will to live. 
 
 The Oberst sank on a seat. 
 
 "I ought not to be here I I ought not to be here !** 
 he cried, repeating a fixed idea. "What will the 
 brigade say when the attack comes? I am away 
 from my post! I am away from my post I" 
 
 "We shall all be killed! We shall all be killed!" 
 moaned the staff lieutenant as he rocked to and fro, 
 nursing his wounded arm. 
 
 "Silence!" shouted Hofmeister, glaring at him 
 with exasperation. 
 
 "This is the end — the beginning of the end," re- 
 peated the battalion commander. "We ought to 
 have been relieved long ago." 
 
 "Our batteries are certainly firing," said the gun- 
 ner officer, feeling it incumbent on him to say some- 
 thing. 
 
 "How long can they keep this up?" the adjutant 
 asked from the gloom behind the lamp. 
 
 "All night," replied the artillery officer grimly. 
 
66 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "They will not attack before dawn, and they will 
 keep it up till then." 
 
 "Awful! Awful I" murmured the regiment com- 
 mander. "They will walk right through. There 
 will be nothing to stop them." 
 
 Hofmeister looked at his watch. 
 
 "In that case we shall have eight hours of it," 
 he said. 
 
 None answered him. All relapsed into a silence 
 while they listened to the incessant crashes, the con- 
 tinuous succession of near explosions that smote and 
 rent. The earth shuddered. Fragments fell from 
 the roof to the floor. There was an appalling, stu- 
 pendous roar apparently exactly overhead, simul- 
 taneous with a fierce stunning shock that bludgeoned 
 their senses and left them dazed. In the light of 
 the pocket lamp they saw the supports of one wall 
 give way, sink; a mass of earth bulged into the dug- 
 out. A glance at the roof showed it beaten down 
 diagonally. They sat motionless and silent in the 
 circumscribed space. 
 
 Hour after hour passed — a timeless, indefinitely 
 extended period. Their ineffectual efforts at conver- 
 sation lapsed. The acuteness of a fear in which 
 they could do nothing for defence was dulled grad- 
 ually into a vague hopelessness, the savage persist- 
 ence of the bombardment hazing their senses with 
 its monotony of thundering, riving menace. 
 
 At first tense, quivering, they relaxed to a limp 
 exhaustion. Despite the violent concussions, the 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 67 
 
 blasts of shattering noise, they dozed fitfully under 
 the excess of strain. Flitting dreams passed over 
 them, blending with wakefulness. Hofmeister found 
 himself living through a recapitulation of the inci- 
 dents of the day. He saw again the agony of fright 
 on the faces of the N. C. O. left with the ammunition 
 on the wrecked train — the stricken ration party help- 
 less under the drifting gas. He heard once more the 
 querulous impeachment of the officer whose men were 
 starving — gazed, with a horror surpassing that of 
 the reality, on the hell of the first-aid dugout, felt 
 himself wildly sharing the dementia of the over- 
 wrought doctor. Once more he toiled over the shell- 
 churned ground where the haggard soldiers dug for 
 dear life — saw the ominous lanes in the wire before 
 the silent British parapet. Through all his visions 
 he was oppressed by a sense of immense effort — im- 
 mense futility under a cloud of inexorable menace. 
 He woke with one of his own groans. The others 
 were dreaming also, making strange noises. 
 
 They roused occasionally from these brief recu- 
 perations to the reperceived uproar, to the full real- 
 isation of imminent danger never slackening in its 
 threat. Then a cold fear gripped them as they sat 
 deprived of any activity that could occupy their 
 minds. The strain seemed more than could be 
 borne. The electric lamp was almost exhausted — 
 gave only a dull red glow. Hofmeister roused him- 
 self, shut it off and turned on his own. Crash fol- 
 lowed crash outside with a fury that had neither 
 
68 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 hesitated nor diminished since its first commence- 
 ment an eternity of time ago. He wondered dully 
 whether any of the battalion were left alive, won- 
 dered that the dugout had so long sheltered him and 
 his companions. 
 
 The artillery officer stirred. 
 
 "Herr Gott! but I am hungry I" he said. 
 
 The battalion commander, long utterly immobile, 
 surprised them by answering. He had seemed 
 asleep. 
 
 "I have had nothing to eat for three days," he 
 said. "Nor my men." 
 
 Hofmeister quickened with an idea. 
 
 "But we have our emergency rations!" he cried. 
 "Herr Oberst!" He roused his superior. "Let us 
 eat — it will be something to do!" 
 
 "Ja, jar* murmured Von Forster with a childish 
 vacuity. A transformation had taken place in him. 
 He was startlingly senile, mouth loose, eyes pouched 
 and bleary, as he felt fumblingly for his emergency 
 ration. He was merely an old, old man. All ca- 
 pacity for command had vanished. "Let us eat! 
 For the last time!" He spoke apparently to him- 
 self, and chuckled with an imbecile and horrid mirth. 
 
 Lieutenant von Waldow slept, babbling in uneasy 
 dreams. Hofmeister took his emergency ration 
 without waking him. 
 
 The five of them — for Stein had roused himself 
 from the corner where he crouched — ate the sausage 
 and biscuit of the three rations. The imminence of 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 69 
 
 death present to the consciousness of each as, now 
 fully wakened, they listened to the everlasting crash 
 and roar of the inferno overhead, they ate with that 
 wolfish gluttony of those breakfasting for the last 
 time in the condemned cell, the body imperiously as- 
 serting its craving to live, their nerves relieved to 
 find a veil for terror. 
 
 Hofmeister produced his flask, portioned out 
 mouthfuls in an enamel mug passed from hand to 
 hand. Their faces, grotesquely illumined in high 
 light and deep shadow as they clustered round the 
 electric lamp throwing its narrow beam across the 
 dugout, were stamped with the horror of the night. 
 
 "This is the end," repeated the major. "I 
 marched with the first in August — fought at the 
 Marne, Ypres, in Russia, on the Somme. Every- 
 where men were killed round me — all my officers. 
 Time after time — I survived — miraculously. I be- 
 lieved — believed I had a star — something that kept 
 me safe — and this is what it kept me for! This is 
 the end." He stopped. "My poor little wife!" 
 
 ''Bine, Herr Major!" cried Hofmeister in ex- 
 postulation. "We all have womenfolk. One dare 
 not think of them on the battlefield!" 
 
 "Battlefield!" cried Stein. "I would not mind 
 dying on the open field. It*s being killed like rats 
 in a trap " 
 
 "Killed uselessly!" The gunner officer took it 
 up. "If only we had been able to make peace on 
 our first victories! Now — now we are being bled 
 
76 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 to death to keep up the pretence that we have won." 
 
 "It is the beginning of the end,'* repeated the 
 major. 
 
 The Oberst rose to his feet suddenly. He swayed 
 as though in the gusts of the crashing detonations 
 butside. He held the enamel mug in his hand as 
 though about to drink to a toast. 
 
 "Meine Herren/^ he said, an uncanny wild so- 
 lemnity in his tone, "we are dead men." He 
 raised his voice to be heard amid a louder explosion. 
 "You and I, major — we marched through Belgium 
 in the long ago — ^there are not many of us left. I 
 drink to our eternal damnation! Can't you see 
 them? Can't you hear them — those mad women — 
 shrieking at us — clawing at us? I have heard them 
 all this night — ^beating on the roof to get at us — 
 and I laugh at them as I laughed then !" 
 
 He burst into a shriek of crazy laughter that 
 made the blood run cold. "I laugh at them all 
 through hell — I used to laugh at them in my dreams 
 — I could not prevent them haunting me. We laugh 
 at them now, major — damned but Uhermenschen — 
 Uhermenschen even in hell — nicht wahr, major? 
 Ha I ha I ha I" Again his insane mirth mingled with 
 the crashes. 
 
 The major hid his face in his hands. Hofmeister 
 sprang up and pulled the old man down to his seat. 
 
 "He is mad!" he cried. "Don't listen to him I" 
 
 The old man sat and laughed evilly to himself. 
 
 There was an even louder crash outside, a more 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 71 
 
 violent shock. They glanced toward the stairway, 
 saw masses of earth rolling down it. 
 
 "The entrance has been blown in!" shouted Stein 
 amid a series of terribly fierce explosions that was 
 as the very heart of a storm. *'Quick! Pick and 
 shovel!" 
 
 He sprang to the tools. He seized one, Hofmeis- 
 ter the other. Some one snatched the lamp, shone it 
 up the stairway, which was blocked with earth. Fev- 
 erishly Stein and Hofmeister attacked it, flinging 
 debris behind them into the dugout. They forgot 
 all other dangers in the panic fear of burial alive as 
 they hacked and shovelled at the obstruction. There 
 were many feet of it to be cleared away. Hofmeis- 
 ter paused for a moment after a frenzied bout of 
 toil. 
 
 "Listen !" he cried. "Listen! The fire has lifted ! 
 The attack has begun ! Quick! Quick!" 
 
 With superhuman energy the two men delved into 
 the mass of earth that crumbled about their feet on 
 the stairway. Below them others, they knew not 
 who, cleared it into the dugoijt. The pick smote 
 right through. A few more shovel digs at the roof 
 of earth above them and it collapsed onto their 
 heads. They saw a pale grey sky. The crash of 
 shells was a distant continued sound. The sharp, vi- 
 cious hammering of machine guns was the dominant 
 noise. 
 
 Somebody clutched at Hofmeister as he forced 
 himself through the narrow aperture into the free 
 
72 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 air. He glanced back and saw Von Waldow, and 
 kicked viciously. But the young lieutenant squirmed 
 out behind him, overtook him as he ran along an 
 unrecognisable trench. Hofmeister fell headlong 
 over a heap of earth and heard a violent detonation 
 close behind — another, duller explosion following 
 it. Bombs I The dugout! His imagination half 
 glimpsed the fate of his comrades as he struggled 
 to his feet. 
 
 He looked up, to sec a man, hooded like a famil- 
 iar of the Inquisition, horribly unhuman with his 
 featureless face, standing on the edge of the trench 
 above him with a bomb poised to throw. 
 
 He heard a yell from Von Waldow, saw the young 
 lieutenant sprint at the man like a maniac, all oblivi- 
 ous of his wounded arm, snatch and wrench at the 
 man's wrist, fling the bomb away after a moment of 
 fierce struggle, in which Hofmeister agonised for 
 the explosion. The enemy disappeared suddenly — ' 
 how, he knew not. He was feeling queerly faint. 
 Wounded I How? Where? When? Von Wal- 
 dow seized him, dragged him along. 
 
 "Quick, Herr Hauptmann ! Quick I I know a ma- 
 chine-gun dugout I" The lad was in a frenzy of 
 excitement, utterly unlike the shrinking, frightened 
 poltroon he had appeared in the dugout. 
 
 He dragged the staff captain a little way along 
 the trench and stopped before a low entrance to a 
 tunnel. They wriggled into it, hearing only faintly 
 now the hammering of the machine guns, the thud 
 
IN THE HINDENBURG LINE 7S 
 
 of bombs. As Hofmeister crawled along the pas- 
 sage he felt his senses return to him. He was not 
 severely wounded. Only a touch somewhere. 
 
 "There should be machine gunners here!" called 
 out Von Waldow, scrambling ahead in the darkness. 
 They emerged into an underground chamber dimly 
 visible in a pale light that fell through a perpendicu- 
 lar shaft at the farther end. The place was empty. 
 Both officers rose to their feet and ran to the shaft. 
 A machine gun on a little platform rested on the 
 bottom. The platform was a lift worked by an 
 arrangement of pulleys and counterweights. Hof- 
 meister sprang onto it. 
 
 "Pull me up I" he cried. Von Waldow seized a 
 hanging rope. 
 
 The staff captain, crouching by the weapon to 
 adjust it for action, felt himself slowly mounting the 
 narrow shaft as the lieutenant tugged jerkily at the 
 rope with his one valid arm. The platform stopped. 
 Hofmeister, looking over the sights of the gun, 
 gazed at his foes. 
 
 Parties of brown-clad men were moving, disap- 
 pearing and reappearing, amid the heaped and pitted 
 desolation of the ridge. All were going in one di- 
 rection — ^toward the German lines. A few ran at a 
 slow jog trot. The most walked with plodding de- 
 liberation. All kept in their loose formations of 
 little groups. Some had rifles, bayonets fixed. 
 Others had only bags of bombs. All were hooded, 
 featureless, under the flat helmets. Shrapnel burst 
 
74 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 above them here and there, but the shell fire was 
 not much visible, though audible enough as the 
 counterbarrages crashed and thudded just out of 
 sight on either hand. 
 
 Hofmeister released the safety catch, traversed 
 the gun, seeking for a bunch of the enemy. He saw 
 a group carrying curious heavy firearms like old- 
 fashioned blunderbusses fling themselves down in a 
 rear shell hole, the muzzles of two weapons point 
 at him. He slewed his weapon with the instinctive 
 quickness of a menaced animal, pressed on the trig- 
 ger, crouching low. He heard only his first shot. 
 
 The groups of hooded men continued to stream 
 across the German position, dropping bombs down 
 suspected holes. One dropped down a shaft where 
 a young lieutenant, with only one arm capable of 
 use, was clinging to its side, vainly trying to climb 
 the rough, absolutely perpendicular ladder. 
 
 The first counter attack was made in such chaotic 
 fashion that the absence of higher leadership was 
 manifest 
 
Ill 
 
 THE TERROR IN THE SKY 
 
 TWO officers sat at table in the long wooden hut 
 that was the mess of the junior officers of the 
 airship squadron. Both were very young, fair-com- 
 plexioned, with close-cropped hair, typically North 
 German. Round them were the remains of a co- 
 pious meal. Used crockery upon the table indicated 
 that other officers had already eaten, but the two 
 young men sat alone. 
 
 The furniture of the hut was of the simplest. In 
 addition to the inevitable piquant or humorous de- 
 signs culled from the illustrated papers, a large, dou- 
 ble-page drawing from the Illustrierte Zeitung was 
 prominent on the wall. It depicted, with powerful 
 imagination, a London whose architectural peculiar- 
 ities were emphasised in an inferno of blood-red 
 flame, fire-racked shipping in a tangle under a shat- 
 tered Tower Bridge, while overhead a fleet of Zep- 
 pelins floated with insulting calm high above a lat- 
 tice-work of searchlights starred with bursting 
 shells. Underneath was the legend, in fat Gothic 
 type: *^Gott strafe England! Der Schreck in Him- 
 mer ("The terror in the sky"). 
 
 75 
 
n6 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The slighter of the two officers gazed thought- 
 fully at this interesting product of German art. 
 
 "Is it really like that, Fritz?" he asked. 
 
 His companion laughed shortly at the earnest tone 
 of the question. It was made manifest that he was 
 a man of experience. 
 
 *'Not quite, Otto," he admitted. He glanced at 
 the watch upon his wrist. *'Noch zehn Minuten/' 
 he said, and the would-be ease of his voice somehow 
 wrecked itself upon a false note of jauntiness. He 
 drew a case of fat cigars from his pocket and prof- 
 fered it to his companion. "Take one," he insisted. 
 "It will be long before you get another." 
 
 Both lads puffed manfully. Fritz Steinhauer and 
 Otto von Bruchheim had been school-chums to^ 
 gether. Both at the earliest possible moment — ^but 
 Steinhauer, by virtue of a slight seniority in age, 
 three months before his comrade — had answered the 
 call of the Fatherland. More fortunate than so 
 many thousands of gallant lads shortsightedly sacri- 
 ficed in schoolboy battalions, they had profited by 
 their real abilities and much influence to enter the 
 airship service. Both had passed through the great 
 central school at Leipzig — ^Fritz always in advance 
 — and now, after several months of separation, they 
 were again re-united. By a happy and rare chance 
 Otto had been posted from the school to the same 
 squadron as his friend. He had arrived only yes- 
 terday. 
 
 Otto continued to stare at the picture, although 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 77 
 
 evidently he looked through it, down a vista of 
 thought. 
 
 He leaned suddenly forward across the table to 
 his friend. 
 
 *' Alter BurschF' His manner was shamefaced. 
 Clumsily he groped his fingers in a breast-pocket 
 while he spoke. "You know people feel — feel some- 
 times — in advance " He extracted a little 
 
 packet from the pocket. "If — if anything happens 
 I want you to give this to your sister Elsa," he fin- 
 ished, in a swift, nervous run of words. 
 
 His friend looked at him in pleased surprise. 
 
 "You and Elsa ! I had no idea But, dummer 
 
 Kerl, if anything happens to you, it happens to me 
 also! We all go" — he indicated with an earthward 
 gesture of the hand — "together." A big puff of 
 cigar-smoke and a backward jerk of the head marked 
 his contempt for the possibility. 
 
 Otto chastised his forehead with his fist. 
 
 "Of course!" he laughed. "What a fool I ami 
 Fritz" — he leaned forward again, his face all boyish 
 earnestness — "this is my first trip in real earnest — 
 but — ^but you know Vm not afraid, don't you? It 
 wasn't that — it was " He stopped awkwardlyy 
 
 "Afraid?" echoed Fritz. "Of course not! Who- 
 ever heard of a German officer who was afraid?" 
 He swaggered in front of a mental mirror after the 
 manner of his race and caste. "But it's a pity you 
 haven't got a real job. It's much better when there 
 is a responsibility to keep your mind occupied." 
 
78 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Otto was "supernumerary officer under instruc- 
 tion." He nodded his head absently. 
 
 "The captain is a good man, isn't he?" 
 
 "Good ? I should think so I" answered Fritz, with 
 pride. "It is something to be his second-in-com- 
 mand I And, Herr Gott, doesn't he hate the Eng- 
 lish! He knows his way over their cursed country 
 better than you do yours over the Leipzig flying- 
 grounds. He used to fly over England at night even 
 before the war. He has often told me about it. It 
 seems some of the stupid Englanders heard the en- 
 gines in the air and wrote to the papers about it, and 
 once he and the other officers who used to fly in the 
 old Zeppelin thought that the game was up. But 
 then more mad Englanders wrote to the papers that 
 it was all nonsense, and so everything was all right." 
 He looked at his watch. "Time's up I Get your 
 coat on, alter Bummlerr 
 
 He shouted for an orderly. The man appeared, 
 assisted both officers into the thick padded coats 
 which went over already cold-proof clothing. On 
 the moment of departure Fritz turned to his friend. 
 
 "If you like to give me the packet for Elsa," he 
 said, in a voice he made as ordinary as possible, "I 
 will put it with some things of mine that my servant 
 is looking after." 
 
 The light had not quite faded out of the sky of a 
 late autumn evening when they left the hut. They 
 emerged into a vast level field. Directly in front of 
 them, at a considerable distance from each other, 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 79 
 
 three enormous Zeppelin sheds were the dominant 
 feature in the landscape. Close to each, dwarfed to 
 Lilliputians by the huge bulk, was a body of Infantry, 
 immobile in their ranks. Every tree and hedge 
 which could possibly interfere with a landing had 
 been cut down, but the long, straight march of elms 
 lining a main road had been left as a wind-screen. 
 Behind it rose the spires of a Belgian town, just 
 discernible in the twilight. 
 
 The two lads walked swiftly across the wide land- 
 ing-ground towards the nearest of the airship-sheds. 
 Of the diffident suggestion of schoolboy intimacy that 
 had escaped them in the privacy of the mess-hut 
 there remained not a trace. Despite their clumsy at- 
 tire, they hastened with erect, well-drilled carriage, 
 superb in stern self-poise. They were, very con- 
 sciously, German officers in an idolised service. They 
 belonged to a super-caste of the War-Lords, In whom 
 a hint of human weakness was as unthinkable as pity 
 In a barbaric god. On duty, at least — they had im- 
 bibed the theory with their mother's milk — they were 
 of a divine hierarchy, the world of men at their feet. 
 They saluted smartly, with a stiff, precise gesture — 
 both moved as by one spring — the commanding offi- 
 cer of the infantry drawn up near the shed. 
 
 The great doors were flung open. Within, mask- 
 ing somewhat and yet reflecting the powerful white 
 electric lights, the monster towered above them, in- 
 credibly huge. The long parallel lines of the im- 
 mense polyhedral flanks receded, softly gleaming 
 
so ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 aluminium, and drew together far, far back in the 
 illumined depths of the vast shed. Stout steel ca- 
 bles, taut to ring-bolts in the concrete floor, as well 
 as an infinite multitude of smaller ropes, pinioned 
 the floating leviathan to immobility. Beneath the 
 colossal bulk of the rigid gas envelope, the hanging 
 cars linked by the long, narrow, rod-slung gangway, 
 even the enormous propellers seemed dwarfed to 
 insignificance. Under the lofty, cathedral-like roof 
 of the shed the voices of men resounded with a hol- 
 low echo. The overall-garbed mechanists by the 
 door sprang smartly to a salute as the two officers a 
 entered. 
 
 From the central car a whitewashed rope-ladder 
 hung, nearly touching the floor. Fritz sprang up it 
 with such agility as his padded clothing permitted. 
 His friend followed. At the top of the ladder an 
 Unteroffizier stood rigid, saluted. 
 
 "All ready?*' asked Fritz, with clipped curtness. 
 
 *^Ja, Herr LeutnantJ* 
 
 With the swift precision of a man who thoroughly 
 knows his job. Lieutenant Steinhauer started on a 
 tour of Inspection of the entire ship. The senior 
 Unteroffizier and Otto followed him. Everywhere 
 the crew stood ready at their stations. In the cen- 
 tral control-car, roofed, upholstered, fitted with pan- 
 els that could close over the transparent celluloid 
 windows, the steersman stood In waiting behind the 
 wheels and levers that gave him mastery over the 
 lateral or vertical progress of the ship; the tele- 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 81 
 
 phonist sat before his instrument. Under a row of 
 dials on the wall — clock, aneroid barometer, speed 
 gauges, etc. — a great chart was spread on a strutted 
 table, field-glasses upon it. In another compartment 
 the wireless operator sat at his apparatus. Between 
 the two, below the gangway, the bombs were ranged 
 in two neat parallel rows, suspended between rails. 
 The couple of men detailed for the duty stood by the 
 levers which at the proper moment should release the 
 missiles. The machine-gunners, fore and aft and 
 centre, were at their posts. Steinhauer glanced at 
 the spotless cleanliness of the weapons, assured him- 
 self that the correct reserve of ammunition was in* 
 stantly available. The low-roofed engine-cars at 
 bow and stern were inspected, their machinery tested 
 in a roar that re-echoed thunderously under the roof 
 of the shed while the disconnected propellers re- 
 mained motionless. Particular attention did the offi- 
 cer devote to a little car slung tight-close under the 
 floor of the gangway between two drums of coiled 
 steel wire. A manhole was opened in the floor, an 
 electric light switched on below. A snug litle nest, 
 well-padded, in which a man could lie full-stretched, 
 was revealed. Steinhauer assured himself that field- 
 glasses, telephone, and emergency rations were all at 
 hand. The manhole was closed, the two officers and 
 the N. C. O. continued their tour. A climb up a 
 narrow ladder through the darkness of the great en- 
 velope, between the ballonets, to the machine-gun 
 platform at the top, and the inspection was finished. 
 
82 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Steinhauer glanced at the time, and, calmly satisfied, 
 took up his station at the head of the dangling rope- 
 ladder. Lieutenant von Bruchheim stood by his 
 side. Their fair, boyish faces rigid, unemotional, 
 they stood, not less than the mighty engine so terri- 
 bly beautiful in its finely-conceived immensity which 
 dwarfed them, perfected parts of the machine a 
 would-be superhuman Germany had forged for the 
 conquest of the world. 
 
 Quick, hard footsteps along the concrete floor re- 
 sounded in the great shed. In close conversation 
 with a red-striped officer of the General Staff, an offi- 
 cer, whose spare, hawk-like face looked strangely 
 thin above the mass of thick clothing, approached 
 the rope-ladder. They stopped, saluted mutually 
 with a click of the heels, and the hawk-faced officer 
 climbed the ladder. As he mounted, looking up- 
 wards, the piercing intensity of his glance — the eyes 
 of a fanatic — gave Otto von Bruchheim a queer 
 thrill. An impulse of passionate patriotism, glorying 
 in risk and sacrifice, pitiless to the foe, communicated 
 itself to him. Not a muscle moved in him, but he 
 suddenly felt himself capable of any desperate hero- 
 ism. To die, coldly and unemotionally as a German 
 officer should I — he thrilled in every fibre. 
 
 The commander reached the platform. The two 
 young officers saluted with precise automatism. 
 Their superior's eyes softened. 
 
 **Guten Abend, meine Herren** he said. 
 
 The man's personality was magnetic. Here, on 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY SB 
 
 the brink of their far-flung enterprise, Otto, who 
 had felt only awe in presence of this stern man, sud- 
 denly loved him. To his vague, lofty Ideal an In- 
 tense loyalty linked Itself. 
 
 The commander turned to Steinhauer. 
 
 "Is all ready?'' 
 
 **Ja, Herr Kapitdn — all Is ready." 
 
 The commander nodded. 
 
 "Go to your station, then." He turned to Otto. 
 "You will remain with me." 
 
 Steinhauer saluted and departed aft. The com- 
 mander, followed by Otto, moved to the fore-part of 
 the gangway. He blew a shrill blast on his whistle. 
 
 The measured tramp of the Infantry-soldiers as 
 they marched Into the vast shed resounded under the 
 lofty roof. On either side of the great airship they 
 stood motionless In long ranks. Other whistles blew. 
 There were a few curt orders, no shouting. In a 
 moment the leviathan, swaying a little, was checked 
 only by the hundreds of men clinging to the ropes. 
 
 Another blast on the whistle and slowly, gently, the 
 great airship began to glide out of her shed, drawn 
 on the steady march of the Infantrymen, tiny beneath 
 them. Otto stood by the commander on the open 
 gangway as they floated out of the hard, white bril- 
 liance of the electric-lit shed Into the grey of the 
 deepening night. Distant across the wide landing- 
 ground the open doorways of the other sheds gaped, 
 illumined like the mouths of caverns. From them 
 also had their giant tenants been led out to the far 
 
84 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 adventure. One lay poised on the ground, her Im- 
 mense length, bluff at the nose and tapering at the 
 stern, blocking out the horizon. The other hung 
 already In the air, ghostlike in the faint light, rising 
 vertically and silently. 
 
 A whistle shrilled from the after-end of the ship. 
 They were clear of the shed. Still they continued 
 to glide across the ground, the tiny soldiers straining 
 with bent backs at the ropes. The commander 
 glanced at the other ships. Both were now rising. 
 He leaned over the rail, blew his whistle. The sig- 
 nal was repeated from below. The great ship 
 stopped, quivering. "All clear I'* was reported from 
 the ground. The commander blew one last loud 
 blast upon his whistle. 
 
 **Nun kann's losgehenr he said to Otto, with a 
 grim smile, parodying the famous phrase that had 
 unleashed the fiends of war. 
 
 The young officer glanced over the rail. The 
 earth, misty and Indistinct, was already far below 
 them, was falling away. Without shock or tremor 
 the great ship rose straight up in the windless air. 
 
 "Come !" said the commander to Otto, and led the 
 way to the control-car, bright with electric light. 
 
 Kapitan von Breitmiiller commanded not only his 
 own craft, but the two other ships composing the 
 squadron. As he entered the control-car he called 
 out an order, prefaced with the code-names of the 
 other ships. "Course W.N.W. at a thousand me- 
 tres, rising." The telephonist repeated it to the 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 85 
 
 wireless operator in the other cabin. Other orders 
 directing the flight formation, distances, engine revo- 
 lution, etc., followed. Otto glanced at the rapidly- 
 mounting needle of the aneroid barometer. It 
 touched 1,000. At the same moment he heard the 
 bell of the telegraph-indicator to the engine-rooms 
 and the answering clangs. 
 
 With a deafening, rattling roar, that swelled still 
 louder in response to another clang on the telegraph, 
 the engines started. The great ship woke from her 
 inertia, pulsed with throbbing life. With a dizzy 
 swing she came round to her course. Again the tele- 
 graph clanged, and yet louder rattled and roared the 
 great propellers as they clove and forced back the 
 air in their fiercely-swift revolutions. Everything 
 in the great ship quivered with the force of her rush 
 through the air and the feverish life-beat of her 
 engines. To touch wood or metal was to come into 
 contact with an almost painful vibration. The needle 
 of the aneroid barometer still climbed. As she rose 
 into higher regions the ship found herself heading 
 into a slight breeze. She commenced to pitch in 
 long, slow undulations, like a ship in a gentle swell 
 at sea, the cabin floor rising and dropping away 
 almost imperceptibly. 
 
 Von BreitmuUer drew his junior to the great chart, 
 marked a point upon it with his finger, shouted to 
 be heard above the roar. 
 
 "Here," he said, *'we meet the other squadron. 
 
86 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 To-night the verdammte Engldnder shall know what 
 the hate of Germany means." 
 
 The boy glanced up, surprised at the hatred in his 
 superior's voice. The passion he had often facti- 
 tiously awakened in himself when chorusing the 
 Hymn of Hate was here beside him in a living em- 
 bodiment, the incarnate spirit of the monster throb- 
 bing fiercely through the sky on her errand of de- 
 struction. 
 
 In obedience to an order from the commander, he 
 went out of the control-car along the gangway. A 
 rush of intensely cold air smote him, penetrated his 
 thick clothing. He glanced over the rail. The 
 earth lay hollow beneath him like a dark bowl from 
 whose rim rose, silver-grey, the night sky. Far 
 below, in the blackness, the lights of a Belgian town 
 glimmered yellow. Aft of the ship, to port and 
 starboard on the same plane as the leader, the single 
 lights of the other two ships glowed like large stars. 
 The radiance from their cars could just be seen. 
 
 He passed along the gangway, stepping over the 
 machine-gun crews huddled in thick wraps under 
 the lee of such protection as they could find from the 
 bitter blast. In the rearward engine-car he found 
 Steinhauer in earnest conference with the mechanist 
 Vnteroffizier. Despite all their efforts, the star- 
 board engine was refusing to run as sweetly as it 
 should. Here, in this long, low-roofed cabin filled 
 with machinery, the atmosphere was pleasantly 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 87 
 
 warm. The noise stunned one, bludgeoning the 
 senses in the confined space. 
 
 Steinhauer looked up with a preoccupied frown, 
 shouted at the top of his voice an explanation of the 
 trouble. The N.C.O. gesticulated with a spanner, 
 alleged a diagnosis, and promised alleviation. Von 
 Bruchheim returned to report. 
 
 He found the commander receiving a wireless 
 message from the other squadron. They were in 
 touch. He looked out of the windows, saw search- 
 light after searchlight shoot out into the night sky 
 and be instantly extinguished. The other squadron 
 was signalling its position. Von Breitmiiller shouted 
 an order. From their own ship and from those fol- 
 lowing, similar beams barred the sky for a moment 
 with an intense whiteness, and then were not. The 
 stars, temporarily obliterated, leaped back into a 
 black heaven. The squadron had effected junction 
 with four more ships, three composing another 
 squadron, the other carrying a very important per- 
 sonage in supreme command of the whole. 
 
 From now on von Breitmiiller received orders, 
 re-transmitted them to his own squadron. The first 
 was significant. All lights were dowsed. The con- 
 trol-car was illumined only by glow-lamps over the 
 steering-compass, the indicator dials, the chart. The 
 speed of the fleet was increased. Slanting upward, 
 the ship, driven through the air with a force that 
 shook her violently, climbed by her inclined planes 
 to yet higher regions. Already the dial indicated 
 
88 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 over three thousand metres. Von BreitmuUer 
 pointed to a spot on the chart. They were already 
 over the sea. 
 
 For rather more than an hour their fiercely pulsing 
 progress continued without event. Dimly through 
 the side-windows, frosted with the exhalations of 
 the men inside the cabin, could be discerned the glint 
 of stars in a dark sky. Of their consorts nothing 
 was to be seen. Otto knew only that the other 
 squadron was ahead, their own squadron spread in 
 a wide echelon behind it. But messages were con- 
 tinually exchanged between the ships. Stelnhauer 
 had now entered the cabin, stood with his friend 
 behind the commander, who sprawled upon a cush- 
 ion, gazing downward through a transparent panel 
 in the floor. They looked also, bending over his 
 shoulders. 
 
 Beneath them was an intense blackness that they 
 knew to be the sea. Once or twice a thin strip of 
 white overlaid it, suddenly produced and equally sud- 
 denly abolished — ^thc searchlights of patroUing 
 ships. Over on the port bow — it seemed almost 
 directly under them, but was in reality many miles 
 distant — ^two such strips lay long and motionless 
 across the water, were moved suddenly in a quick 
 jerk, but were not extinguished, and three search- 
 lights shot upwards, waved uneasy arms in the dark 
 sky. "Dover 1" said Von Breltmiiller. They raced 
 on undiscovered, leaving the searchlights well away 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 89 
 
 to port — behind them. Half an hour passed. Von 
 Breitmiiller raised himself slightly. 
 
 "Observation!" he said to Steinhauer; to Otto: 
 "General supervision of the ship I Keep in touch 
 with me." 
 
 The two young men left the comparative warmth 
 of the control-car, stumbled along the gangway in 
 an icy blackness, feeling more distinctly the gentle 
 heave and pitch of the ship, realising her effort in 
 the numbing vibration of the rod-supports as they 
 clung to them. The vast rattling roar of the pro- 
 pellers would have drowned any attempt at speech. 
 They reached the spot where the observation-car 
 was slung under the drums of steel wire. The cower- 
 ing, shivering attendant roused himself. The man- 
 hole was uncovered. Fritz switched on the light 
 below for an instant; then, after an intense grip 
 of his comrade's hand in the darkness, slipped in, 
 stretched himself. The manhole was replaced. An 
 electric bell rang. The man pulled a lever and in- 
 stantly the drums began to revolve, slowly at first, 
 then ever more swiftly, paying out endlessly the thin, 
 strong cables. Without the experience of his prac- 
 tice-flights Otto would have realised the frightful, 
 dizzy swing of the little car suspended far below 
 from the jerky, distressful toss it imparted to the 
 entire ship. 
 
 Sharp bells rang simultaneously in various parts 
 of the craft, clear above the roar of her machinery. 
 "Quarters!" Otto hurried along the gangway. He 
 
90 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 found the machine-gunners standing ready, their 
 thick-gloved hands on the breech. The bomb- 
 droppers were alert, their eyes fixed on the glow- 
 illumined indicator, the levers ready grasped. The 
 searchlight-operator crouched behind the great bar- 
 rel-lens on the swivel-mounting. Yet the leviathan 
 pulsed onward, dark, emitting no sound other than 
 her familiar roar, tossing jerkily with the pendulum- 
 swing of the car swaying many feet below, rushing 
 towards a fateful moment. 
 
 Otto hastened from point to point. His deck in- 
 spection finished, he glanced over the rail. Below 
 him all was dark, but in that tenebrous depth he 
 discerned a sinuous strip of even more intense black- 
 ness that stretched widening to a point beneath him 
 in sharp curves — ^the River Thames ! Flushed with 
 excitement, he sprang up the narrow ladder which 
 passed through the gas-envelope in a vertical climb 
 to the machine-gun platform above. 
 
 He emerged into an intense cold and a spectacle 
 of strangely large stars in a numberless multitude 
 that seemed to crackle as they twinkled in unearthly 
 brilliance on a dark blue background. The heaven 
 was thicksown with them from zenith to the low 
 horizon. From its depths the beam of light that 
 had left its origin in the days of Charlemagne fell 
 now upon this strange product of the twentieth cen- 
 tury rushing softly silvern through the radiant night 
 to annihilate a moment or two in the brief lives of 
 pygmies such as those who made her. But Otto 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 91 
 
 had no thought beyond the immediate. He has- 
 tened to the two machine-gun crews, assured him- 
 self of their readiness. Then he went to the inward- 
 curving bulwark of bullet-proof steel that enclosed 
 the platform. A rush of bitterly cold wind smote 
 him as though he had run into a wall. He drew 
 back, gasping. 
 
 In front of him the broad aluminium carapace of 
 the leviathan stretched featureless, falling away to 
 the sides, and far ahead at the nose, in gentle curves, 
 nowhere dead straight. Beyond it was the star- 
 studded night, through which they drove with sag- 
 ging, straining rise and fall. Up here, intercepted 
 by the vast bulk of the envelope, the roar of the 
 engines was not so loud, but no other sound came 
 to dispute its pre-eminence. Suddenly, as he gazed, 
 he saw the swift leap of a reddish reflection. A 
 second later, searchlights, bundles of them with di- 
 vergent shafts, shot up into the sky far ahead and 
 to the right and left. They moved, ferreting; with 
 long white fingers among the stars. In their midst 
 twinkling yellow points of flame lived for an instant, 
 were constantly reborn. Simultaneously with a sec- 
 ond leaping flash came the rumbling, double detona- 
 tion of its predecessor, heard through the roar of 
 the hurrying engines. Thrilled, Otto clutched the 
 rim of the bulwark, crouched to escape the blast of 
 wind, and gazed. 
 
 The first squadron was in action. Red flash after 
 red flash leaped skyward over a wide area. From 
 
92 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 those to the right of him, far, far down, he could 
 glimpse the brief yellow germ of the explosive. The 
 roll of their heavy detonations was continuous from 
 spasm to spasm. And ever the questing search- 
 lights moved their long white fingers across the 
 sky, now jerking away Independently in a vain hope 
 of the quarry, now clustering together, a waiting 
 menace that suddenly dissolved and swept the heav- 
 ens anew. Continuously among them, larger and ever 
 larger as the ship rushed onward, flashed the little 
 yellow stars of the shrapnel-bursts. Suddenly a 
 dozen searchlights swung round. Poised on the tip 
 of a converging steeple of white beams, like an egg- 
 shell on a cunning water-jet, the long white body of 
 an airship gleamed ghostlike in the sky. The yel- 
 low shrapnel-stars multiplied themselves furiously 
 around, below, above her. From the depths be- 
 neath her leaped red flash upon flash in savage re- 
 taliation — a rolling, heavy thunder of detonations. 
 She swung round, jumped vertically in her effort to 
 escape the deadly glare. Her long body inclined out 
 of the horizontal — ^nose upward — whether through 
 injury or because she climbed, Otto could not tell. 
 The searchlights held her. 
 
 A vivid yellow flash, a simultaneous sharp crack, 
 in the air to his right, level with him, snatched him 
 from the vision. Other sharp cracks, whose flashes 
 he could not see, followed. Glancing over the bul- 
 wark, he perceived a faint white milky radiance 
 veiling the black depths, issuing from immediately 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 93 
 
 below. Through it he saw, far away to starboard, 
 the white eye of another searchlight spring into bril- 
 liance, swing its long beam towards them. They 
 were discovered I As he sprang to the hatchway he 
 saw the machine-guns and their crews silhouetted 
 black in the blinding whiteness. He swung himself 
 down the manhole to the ladder in desperate haste, 
 the necessity of immediate report to the commander 
 urgent within him. 
 
 He slid rather than climbed down the steep, nar- 
 row ladder. Here in the darkness between the un- 
 seen ballonets, walled in from all vision, a great fear 
 — not for himself, but for the ship — surged up in 
 him. The pulsing vibrations of the ladder, the noise 
 of the engines — here a ringing roar — reassured him 
 that she still lived. A pitch and roll and giddy 
 swerve told him that she manoeuvred. The imag- 
 ined splitting flashes of shrapnel-bursts outside the 
 frail envelope haunted him as he clambered down 
 with frantic haste. 
 
 He dropped onto the narrow gangway. All was 
 still dark, though dimly light by comparison with 
 the blackness from which he had emerged. They 
 had dodged the beam. But the horizon was latticed 
 with waving, moving searchlights. From the depths 
 below they shot up like nests of broad white spears. 
 From below also, but ahead of them, the vivid red 
 flashes leaped up without cessation in widespread 
 fans of lurid light. And, grimly significant, far, far 
 below, he saw the fierce glow, the rolling smother, 
 
94 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 of buildings In a blaze. Despite the overpowering 
 noise of the ship's engines, the detonations came to 
 him in a continuous dull, shuddering thunder. He 
 thought he heard the sharp cracks of anti-aircraft 
 guns. 
 
 As he ran along the gangway to the control-car 
 he saw a gleam of something swooping hawklike 
 through the night sky, rushing down to meet them, 
 bows-on. He shouted a warning to the machine- 
 gunners, forgetful that they could not hear. But 
 they also had seen. There was a sharp crackle of 
 reports, spitting flames — ^the aeroplane and they 
 whizzed past each other. *'Look out!'* he shouted 
 to the gunners, useless though it was. The aeroplane 
 had turned, was sweeping down upon them again, 
 racing after them. He waited in an agony of sus- 
 pense for the bomb. It came not. Their enemy 
 had haply exhausted his supply. The machine drew 
 parallel with them. Otto glimpsed the polished, 
 canoe-like nose of the nacelle, saw the jutting ma- 
 chine-gun switch towards them, spit repeatedly. 
 From aft and centre the two machine-guns of the 
 airship answered in a fierce duel. The aeroplane 
 rushed onwards, outpacing them — nose-dived sud- 
 denly. 
 
 Otto hurried into the control-car. Von Breitmiil- 
 ler greeted him with a quiet sardonic smile, looking 
 up from the observation-panel in the floor. He held 
 a telephone-receiver to his ear, was speaking into the 
 transmitter. 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 95 
 
 "Yes — ^yes," he said, ''I understand — no, wait for 
 the intersection of the streets — the glow will help 
 
 you " Otto imagined his friend swinging far 
 
 below, gazing downward, speaking into the tele- 
 phone. "Right!" von Breitmiiller continued. He 
 raised his head, shouted an order to the steersman: 
 ^'Starboard two points!" Then again into the tele- 
 phone. "Don^t wait too long! Yes — yes." He 
 stretched out his hand, grasped the handle of the 
 telegraph to the engines, pulled it over with a clang. 
 There was a sudden silence. The engines had 
 stopped. They were floating forward on their im- 
 petus. The noise of their consorts' bombs surged 
 up to them in a thunder of reiterated shocks. 
 
 Telephone to his ear, von Breitmiiller laid his 
 hand upon another telegraph — that to his bomb- 
 droppers — waited. In the dimly-lit control-car was 
 a hush of tense nerves. The stillness of the ship, 
 vibrationless and silent after so long, was impres- 
 sive. Von Breitmiiller spoke again. "Yes — ^yes." 
 His fingers settled themselves in a grasp upon the 
 handle of the telegraph — paused. He jerked it 
 suddenly over. Otto glanced down through the 
 observation-panel, fascinated. From the black 
 depth below leaped a spout of livid red flame — an- 
 other and another. The airship jumped and 
 quivered, rocked in the crashes of the explosions. 
 Yon Breitmiiller knelt impassive upon the floor, 
 spoke into the telephone, looked up to Otto. "Tar- 
 get!" he said, with grim delight. He spoke again 
 
96 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 to the observer. *'No — take your line from the 
 river — can you make out the bridges? — right — it's 
 about eight hundred yards from that point." He 
 spoke as though he carried a map of the hated City 
 in his head. "Yes — that's the direction — right." 
 He clanged the engine-room telegraph once more. 
 Once more the rattling roar awoke, but this time 
 diminished, at half-speed. He shouted an order to 
 the steersman — a blinding white glare shot up 
 through the observation-panel, illuminated the cabin. 
 
 For one second the commander bent over the 
 panel, his sardonic features strongly accentuated in 
 the unearthly glare, looking like an evil magician 
 cowering over a devil's cauldron. Then he sprang 
 to his feet, switched the engine-telegraph on to full 
 speed, shouted order upon order to the steersman. 
 The ship leaped and shook in a roar of machinery, 
 swung and lurched with an inclined floor. But still 
 the glare shot up through the observation-panel, 
 dazzling any attempt at downward vision. Another 
 beam smote suddenly upon the side-windows. The 
 features of all in the cabin were grotesquely thrown 
 into relief by the pitiless white blaze. 
 
 The commander spoke into the telephone again. 
 **No— no — don't bother — I must lighten her any- 
 way." 
 
 He clanged the telegraph to the bomb-droppers 
 repeatedly, savagely. From below the blasts of the 
 recklessly-flung missiles rushed up to them, but the 
 flashes were masked by the steady brilliance of the 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 97 
 
 unwavering searchlights. Otto glanced at the ane- 
 roid, saw the needle jump. The ship shot up to 
 greater altitudes. Through the frosted windows he 
 saw the gleam of quick yellow flashes, caught sharp 
 detonations in the general roar. There was a louder 
 one — a shudder of the ship. Von Breltmiiller was 
 shouting Into the telephone. "Stelnhauerl Steln- 
 hauerl" he called. He looked up, his face anxious. 
 "Go and see what has happened." 
 
 Otto went out. The long under-body of the en- 
 velope gleamed white above him, the rod-slung 
 gangway was startlingly Illumined. In the air all 
 round the shrapnel lit and cracked Incessantly. He 
 heard a fragment whiz past his head. He hurried 
 to the windlasses of the observation-car. They were 
 gone! A shell had evidently burst right between 
 them, hurled them from their mountings. He stood 
 motionless for a second, paralysed with horror at 
 the fate of his comrade. He saw the sister — Elsa — 
 looking Into his eyes. Then, mastering himself with 
 a spasm of will, he glanced upward — saw a great 
 black rent In the white envelope. 
 
 A moment later three well-placed shells burst 
 with vicious flashes at different points along the deck. 
 The ship tossed, lay over, lost her level keel. The 
 noise of her engines diminished, altered in charac- 
 ter. With experienced ear, he realised that one was 
 running free, that another had ceased to work. The 
 ship sagged all awry, swerved, and pitched. He 
 
98 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 had to clutch the rail to maintain his footing. He 
 wondered whether she were falling. 
 
 Another and another shell struck her, yet still the 
 terrible burst of flame he feared — looked for at each 
 moment — was withheld. The hostile guns below 
 had got her range exactly on a parallax of search- 
 lights. The shells burst all round — again and again 
 upon the deck. He felt the gangway quivering loose 
 under his feet. He was sure that already some 
 shells had burst inside the envelope — by a miracle, 
 had not exploded the ballonets. Trembling, he has- 
 tened back to the control-car, clambering over 
 broken stanchions, swinging himself in one instance 
 with frenzied, unconscious courage across a sheer 
 
 gap. 
 
 He found his superior shouting a message to the 
 telephonist for repetition to the wireless operator. 
 He reported their disaster to the flagship. Otto gave 
 him additional details. Cool and sardonic, von 
 Breitmiiller listened, repeated the information in 
 succinct, ofllicial language to the telephonist. 
 
 The message was interrupted by a priority call 
 from the machine-gun platform on top of the en- 
 velope. The Unteroffizier in charge reported a con- 
 certed aeroplane attack, appealed for manoeuvres to 
 assist in beating it off. 
 
 Von Breitmiiller shook his head with a grim smile. 
 He turned to Otto, who stood clutching the doorpost 
 in an effort to keep himself upright. 
 
 "Go up and take charge. Fight to the last !" His 
 
THE TERROR IN THE SKY 99 
 
 eyes flashed. "We should be proud to die amid the 
 ruins of our foes." Otto glanced at the blanched 
 faces of the steersman and the telephonist. "Don't 
 grudge your life, boy. We are only the vanguard. 
 Our comrades follow us in swarms to rain down fire 
 and hatred for our vengeance. England! England 
 ich hasse dichl Our death shall be a fiery curse from 
 heaven!" The man's face was that of a fanatic 
 at the stake. "Go, boy !" he finished. "Good-bye !" 
 He pressed his hand. Outside, the shrapnel crashed 
 and crashed. 
 
 As Otto left the car he heard the commander 
 order the telephonist to release all the bombs. The 
 bombers had been killed, then ! 
 
 Once more he scrambled hurriedly along the gang- 
 way, not giving a glance to the scene around, below 
 him. But, subconsciously, he was aware that the 
 other ships of the squadron were continuing the at- 
 tack — were meeting a fierce defence. He swung 
 himself up on to the ladder through the envelope, 
 no longer vertically above him, and stopped, checked 
 by a smell of gas. With quick decision he thrust a 
 handkerchief into his mouth and climbed. 
 
 He emerged, with bursting lungs, on to the plat- 
 form — saw one gun only spitting fire; two men 
 crouched beside It. He ran to assist. As he went, 
 something swooped with an angry whirr, low down, 
 close overhead — shot away. There was a blinding 
 flash, a loud double roar, a sheet of awful flame. 
 
 The leviathan tilted, hung almost vertical; great 
 
100 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 tongues of flame, rolling black smoke, licked upward. 
 With a blind Instinct he caught at the bulwark to 
 prevent himself slipping, shielded his face from an 
 intense heat. A man yet clinging to the machine- 
 gun below him let go his hold. 
 
 Wrapped in flame, the leviathan drifted, slowly 
 sinking, a fiery terror in the sky. 
 
PANZERKRAPTWAGEN 
 
 HAUPTMANN VON WALDHOFER, Bat- 
 teriechef of the — th Battery Fussartillerie, 
 stood, helmeted and with buttoned coat, hastily sip- 
 ping a cup of steaming hot coffee in his dugout. 
 The electric light, fed from the power station at 
 Cambrai, miles back, illumined a cosy little apart- 
 ment. Portraits of the Kaiser and Von Hinden- 
 burg looked stifHy from the matchboarded walls in 
 the incongruous company of a medley of coloured 
 pages from Simplicissimus, Jugend, and, quaintly 
 enough, the Vie Parisienne, One side was fully oc- 
 cupied by an enormous, large-scale map of the 
 Somme area, divided into numbered squares, heavily 
 scored with blue pencil here and there, across which 
 ran a great curve of red lines massed in intricate 
 pattern — the enemy trenches — and radiating, pin- 
 supported, coloured threads from the point slightly 
 E. S. E. of Flers, fanwise, far across the opposing 
 lines. The battery-made bed, wire mesh stretched 
 over a wooden frame, sloping slightly from the head 
 toward the foot, on which lay blankets in the dis- 
 array of recent use, bulked largely in the apartment. 
 
 lOI 
 
102 : ACCOllpING TO ORDERS 
 
 But. tb^re: was stIlJ; room for a little table, on which 
 books 'send' writing -material were neatly arranged, 
 and two comfortable, plush-covered armchairs, be- 
 sides the camp washstand in which the water yet 
 steamed. A carpet, mud-stained but thick and soft 
 to the tread, covered the floor. In the comer, re- 
 mote from the bed, was a stove whose long pipe 
 bent at right angles below the roof and followed 
 it until it ascended with the steep stairway at the 
 entrance. The deliberate comfort of the dugout 
 indicated long residence and the expectation of an 
 indefinite stay. Only the pick and shovel in readi- 
 ness by the door gave a hint of possible cataclysm. 
 
 An orderly stood stiiHy at attention while his mas- 
 ter finished his coffee. The captain put down the 
 cup. 
 
 "What time is it?'* he asked sharply. 
 
 "A quarter to seven, ^ Herr Hauptmann." 
 
 "What sort of morning?'* 
 
 "Clear, Herr Hauptmann, but very cold.'' 
 
 "Any aeroplanes?" 
 
 "None over the battery, Herr Hauptmann." 
 
 The captain gave a final glance at himself in the 
 French wall mirror which hung over the table, 
 touched lightly with his finger tips the black-and- 
 white ribbon of the Iron Cross upon his breast, as 
 though flicking away a speck of dust, and turned to 
 go. As he went, the hanging calendar caught his 
 
 6.45 a. m. German summer time. 5.45 a. m. English summer 
 time. 4.45 a. m. Greenwich time. The summer time was used 
 in all the armies. 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 103 
 
 eye. He tore off the top leaf. The date revealed 
 was September 15, 19 16. 
 
 He climbed, with the heavy step of an oldish man, 
 the narrow, steep, thirty-tread stairway, and emerged 
 into the cold blue sky of a clear dawn. Around him 
 was bare, rolling country. About half a mile di- 
 rectly in front of him, the village of Flers huddled 
 Itself among thin trees, its skeleton roofs silhouetted 
 against the blue. Between him and it, but close at 
 hand in a slight depression of the ground, the four 
 105 mm.^ guns of his battery stood, spaced and si- 
 lent, under veils of a gauzelike material tufted with 
 green and brown that blended well with the terrain. 
 Inconspicuous even to a side view, thus covered, they 
 were invisible from above. Near them were stacks 
 of ammunition, also shrouded. Save for a sentry, 
 the guns were deserted. The personnel of the bat- 
 tery was lined up in two queues, where the smoke 
 of a couple of field kitchens betokened breakfast. 
 
 The battery dugouts were excavated in the breast 
 of a slight swelling of the downs, their exits look- 
 ing N. W., on the flank of the gun positions. The 
 battery commander stood for a moment, surveying 
 his little community, banded together for the serv- 
 ice of the four squat, veiled idols lying, unhuman 
 and aloof from the domestic needs of men. Then, 
 following his morning habit, he turned and climbed 
 the little rise of ground. On his accustomed view- 
 point, he stopped and gazed westward. Before him, 
 
 *The well-known 4.2" gun. 
 
104. ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 clear in the cold, early light, the undulating downs 
 gathered themselves into a long, fairly regular ridge, 
 some two miles distant at the summit. A maze of 
 communication and support trenches, just visible, 
 crisscrossed their white lines in the chalk of the 
 hither slope. On the sky line of the ridge directly 
 west, a large clump of bare, shell-sharpened tree 
 stumps broke its emptiness. It was the Bois de Fou- 
 reaux — known to the British army as High Wood. 
 Farther south, a similar group of stumps spiked up 
 into the sky — the Bois de Delville — Devil's Wood. 
 
 That clean-swept landscape mounting to the deso- 
 late sky line was the great, dominant fact in his 
 existence. Ever concrete in his mind, it claimed his 
 first waking vision, even as the weather horizon 
 claims the first heed of the sailor or Vesuvius the 
 morning glance of the Neapolitan. This morning it 
 lay cloudless, save for the towering smoke of an 
 occasional shell burst in the vicinity of the Bois de 
 Foureaux, and strangely quiet. The whole wide 
 stretch would have seemed untenanted by man had 
 it not been for the occasional primrose twinkle of 
 a field gun's flash. The reports of such guns came 
 in isolated slams at varying intervals. To his right, 
 an English shell hurried, with a long-drawn whine, 
 to burst heavily in Flers. Far back, several enemy 
 aeroplanes, tiny specks in the cold blue sky yellowing 
 to the dawn, were dodging like midges among a 
 smother of little brown shell puffs. From overhead 
 came the drone of a German machine. But, by con- 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 105 
 
 trast with the frequent uproar which welled out of 
 this region to translate itself into long thick smoke 
 along the ridge, the scene was curiously clear and 
 silent. 
 
 Satisfied with his scrutiny, the captain turned and 
 descended again to the battery position. He passed 
 along the line of dugouts in the flank of the rise 
 until he reached one whose entrance bore the notice, 
 **Fernsprecher und Befehls U titer stand j^ ^ neatly 
 painted on a board. The oberfeldwebel standing at 
 the doorway sprang to a precise, heel-clicking salute. 
 The officer acknowledged it curtly and dived into the 
 dugout 
 
 Here yellow electric light replaced the cool grey 
 dawn, and tobacco smoke floated in long wreaths 
 about the bulb. A young lieutenant, seated at the 
 telephone instrument on the table, took the pipe out 
 of his mouth and rose smartly as his superior en- 
 tered. 
 
 "Good morning, Eberstein," said the captain. 
 **Anything fresh?" 
 
 "Nothing, Herr Hauptmann," replied the lieuten- 
 ant respectfully. 
 
 "Nothing of this rumoured attack?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 The captain seated himself heavily at the table, 
 and the lieutenant was at liberty to resume his chair. 
 
 "And that frightful bombardment all last night, 
 
 * Telephone and command dugout. 
 
106 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Eberstein, what do you make of it?" he asked, as 
 he lit a cigarette. 
 
 The mouth under the fair moustache of the young 
 lieutenant twisted into a contemptuous smile. 
 
 "Bah I The Englanders want to make us nervous 
 or to persuade themselves that their wonderful 
 *great push' is not played out." 
 
 The captain blew out a long puff of smoke and 
 nodded his head in dubious thought. 
 
 "And you think it is ?" 
 
 Von Waldhofer, a man of somewhat deliberate 
 mental processes, was never unwilling to discuss 
 general topics with his subordinate. Eberstein's 
 cheering, if crude, optimism was a welcome stimulus 
 to him. 
 
 "Of course it is," said the lieutenant. "Since the 
 first rush, they have been practically fought to a 
 standstill. Here it is two and a half months since 
 the offensive began, and where are they? Now, in 
 one week on the Donajetz, we " 
 
 "Yes, I know, Eberstein," his superior interrupted 
 him. "You did wonders. But it is the Somme and 
 not the Donajetz that interests us now." He re- 
 moved his helmet and passed his hand wearily over a 
 high, semibald brow. "I wish I could be as certain 
 as you." He stopped, then broke out again, with the 
 overemphasis of a man wearied with long brooding 
 over a problem: "The colonel was so positive last 
 night I And he had just come from the general staff. 
 At dawn, he said, we might expect it. I can't make 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 107 
 
 it out. All night that frightful bombardment, 
 obviously preparation — until just now. Then this 
 quiet! I feel something Is coming." He shook his 
 head. *'We are much too near In this position." 
 
 "If they come, so much the better!" cried Eber- 
 steln. *'We will annihilate them. But I do not for 
 a moment believe " 
 
 He was stopped by a heavy, distant roar that 
 commenced with the suddenness of a thunderclap 
 and continued in one never-ending roll. 
 
 "There we are !" exclaimed Von Waldhofer. He 
 looked at his watch. It marked seven o'clock pre- 
 cisely — six a. m. English summer time. 
 
 A moment later the telephone bell rang In an 
 excavated offshoot of the main dugout. The or- 
 derly on duty there answered the call. "Message 
 from the observation officer!" he announced, in a 
 loud voice. 
 
 Eberstein picked up the receiver lying on the table 
 in front of him. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Intense artillery fire, all calibres, upon entire 
 sector. Whole front being heavily bombarded. In- 
 fantry attack expected momentarily." 
 
 Eberstein repeated the message, and, ere he had 
 finished, the battery commander had sprung to the 
 door of the dugout, shouting his orders. He heard 
 them megaphoned on by the sergeant major above. 
 Out there In the first rays of the sun, the four squat 
 idols had shaken aside their veils, lay surrounded 
 
108 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 by tensely waiting acolytes. The moment of their 
 dread speech was at hand. 
 
 In the electric-lit dugout the two officers sat si- 
 lently listening to the distant storm. It rolled in 
 one unnerving, continuous thunder. Not their duty 
 was it to reply. They were detailed for barrage 
 upon a particular sector. But near at hand the heavy 
 detonations of guns told off for counter-battery work 
 followed one another ever more quickly. Near at 
 hand, too, came the long whine and crash of Eng- 
 lish counter-battery shells hurled in reply. 
 
 Again the bell rang, and again the telephone or- 
 derly called out : 
 
 "Speak to battalion commander, please !" ^ 
 
 This time Von Waldhofer picked up the receiver 
 himself. 
 
 '7^, ja! We are all ready!" he said. *Tes, it 
 is coming this time. No, no further message. Oh, 
 yes, we are in communication. No? Have you 
 heard anything definite? No. I wonder if there's 
 any truth in it. Good-bye." He put down the re- 
 ceiver and turned to Eberstein, stopping for a mo- 
 ment to listen to the roll of the hostile bombard- 
 ment. 
 
 "That old story again ! You remember we heard 
 it before the first of July — some wonderful inven- 
 tion the Englanders are supposed to have for anni- 
 hilating us all. I wonder if there is anything in it?'* 
 
 'German heavy artillery is organized in "bataillons" of four 
 batteries. 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 109 
 
 The lieutenant laughed mockingly. 
 
 "The Englanders invent anything? Not they! 
 Besides, I don't believe In the possibility of any new 
 invention to revolutionise war. Just think I Here 
 have all the nations of the world been fighting for 
 two years, and what new inventions have we seen? 
 None ! There have been perfections and the redis- 
 covery of old methods — that's all. What is the 
 Zeppelin but a perfected Montgolfier? It Is neither 
 the first nor the only dirigible, even I Poison gas and 
 liquid fire — what are they but the stinkpots of Greek 
 fire of the Middle Ages, rediscovered and brought 
 up to date ? There is nothing, can be nothing, really 
 newl*' 
 
 Von Waldhofer shook his head. "Nevertheless, 
 these rumours are so persistent. They are vague, 
 I admit. Yet where there is so much smoke there 
 is generally a fire. We are very close here. Just 
 listen to that bombardment!'' 
 
 For a moment or two both officers sat silent again, 
 listening to the roll of awful menace. Then Von 
 Waldhofer shouted an order to the telephonist: 
 
 "Get through to the observation oflicer I" 
 
 Almost immediately the orderly called out: 
 
 "Speaking, Herr Hauptmann !" 
 
 Von Waldhofer picked up the receiver. 
 
 "What is happening?" 
 
 "The bombardment is continuing," came the reply. 
 "Much damage is being done to the trenches. Some 
 
110 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 sectors are almost obliterated. My wire has already 
 been cut twice." 
 
 "No infantry attack?" 
 
 "Not yet. This is evidently preparatory." 
 
 "Keep me informed," said Von Waldhofer, and 
 put down the receiver. He turned to Eberstein. 
 "Well, we shall soon see." 
 
 The roll of the hostile artillery ceased as though 
 controlled by a single volition, remained silent for 
 a few seconds, and then, with one thunder surge of 
 sound, recommenced. 
 
 "The barrage has lifted!" cried Von Waldhofer. 
 He raised his voice to be heard by the oberfeldwebel 
 who waited, megaphone in hand, his legs visible half- 
 way down the dugout steps. *'A11 ready, sergeant 
 major?" 
 
 "All ready, Herr Hauptmann." 
 
 The telephone bell rang again in the dugout. 
 
 "Message from the observation officer!" pro- 
 claimed the orderly. 
 
 Von Waldhofer snatched up the instrument. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Barrage!" 
 
 "Fire!" shouted Von Waldhofer to the ober- 
 feldwebel. 
 
 Eberstein looked at his watch. The hour was 
 seven-twenty. 
 
 As though the commanding officer had pressed an 
 electric firing button, the four heavy crashes of his 
 guns followed, merging into each other, renewed in 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 111 
 
 a never-ending chain of detonations as fast as the 
 crews could load, relay, and fire. A constant stream 
 of 4.2" shells was rushing from the battery to fall 
 in a narrow area at the predetermined range. But, 
 loud as were the violent concussions of the guns close 
 at hand, they were but one element in the chaos of 
 frenzied sound that had leaped from the whole coun- 
 tryside at the moment of their first report. Every 
 German battery was firing at its maximum intensity. 
 On the background of the dull roar of the English 
 guns danced the rapid reports of the quick-firers 
 at full pressure of urgency, and surged ponderously 
 the double thuds of the howitzers and the sharper, 
 louder crash of the heavies, blended without a mo- 
 ment's interval into one unceasing peal. The rifle 
 fire from the trenches was inaudible, swallowed up. 
 
 Von Waldhofer sat with one telephone receiver 
 pressed to his ear. Eberstein picked up the other. 
 They heard the observation officer's voice faintly. 
 
 "What?" shouted Von Waldhofer into the instru- 
 ment. 
 
 "Something is coming — something strange — I 
 cannot see well, there is so much smoke — something 
 
 — slow and crawling — a machine — firing " The 
 
 voice ceased abruptly. 
 
 Von Waldhofer and his lieutenant looked at one 
 another. 
 
 "The wire has gone!" cried Eberstein. He had 
 to shout to be heard in the din. 
 
 "Let us hope it is only that," replied his chief. 
 
112 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Both strove deliberately to ignore the fear in the 
 forefront of their minds. Von Waldhofer shouted 
 loudly into the telephone : "Kurt! Kurt I Are you 
 there?" 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 Outside the dugout, the battery was still firing 
 furiously, would continue to do so until it received 
 fresh orders. The general uproar had abated not 
 at all, had, if anything, intensified. Into the welter 
 of sound came a familiar, heart-stopping, hissing 
 rush, followed by a loud crash. Another and an- 
 other and another swooped down on the heels of the 
 first. An English 60 pr. battery was searching for 
 their position. But the two officers, fascinated by 
 the mysterious, distant menace that was crawling 
 into their world, did not hear and gave no thought 
 to the shells. Once more Von Waldhofer shouted 
 into the telephone: "Kurt! Kurt!" Still there 
 came no answer. The eyes of the two men met. 
 
 "What can it be?" demanded Eberstein impa- 
 tiently. "Is he dreaming?" 
 
 "Perhaps the wire has been cut close here," said 
 his chief, resolute, like a good soldier, to allow no 
 disturbing speculations in this battle crisis. He 
 shouted an order to the oberfeldwebel. 
 
 The telephone bell rang sharply. 
 
 "Order from the battalion commander!" an- 
 nounced the telephonist. 
 
 Von Waldhofer was already listening. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN IIS 
 
 ^^Feindliche Panzerkraftwagen ^ iihersteigen die 
 Schiitzengraben Punkt C 32 J4./. So fort Feuer 
 dagegen mit alter Kraft eroffnenP* ("Enemy ar- 
 moured motor cars are crossing the trenches at point 
 C 32 d4.I. Open heaviest possible fire upon them 
 immediately!") 
 
 The battery commander sprang to a little table, 
 outspread with a large-scale map upon which lay 
 protractor and dividers. A second or two of hasty 
 calculation, and he shouted his orders to the ober- 
 f eldwebel : 
 
 "Cease fire ! All guns twenty degrees more right ! 
 With percussion I Left half at 3 1 50 metres ! Right 
 half at 3 100 metres ! Forty rounds battery fire !" 
 
 He heard them repeated in stentorian tones 
 through the oberfeldwebers megaphone. The rapid 
 detonations of the guns ceased. There was a pause, 
 a few seconds only. Then the voice of the sergeant 
 major announced: 
 
 "All ready I" 
 
 "Fire!" 
 
 Again the fury of the guns burst forth. 
 
 **Panzerkraftwagenr* said Ebersteln. "But sure- 
 ly armoured cars cannot cross wire entanglements 
 and trenches ! There is a mistake somewhere." 
 
 "There is no mistake that something has gone 
 wrong and that we are without observation," re- 
 turned Von Waldhofer irritably, indisposed to ab- 
 
 ^ Panzerkraftwagen: "Armoured power wagons" is the oflficial 
 German designation of the "Tanks." The word is also applied to 
 armoured cars. 
 
,114f ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 stract argument just then. The orderly had once 
 more failed to elicit any response from the observa- 
 tion officer. **Take a couple of men and a new in- 
 strument, follow the wire along as far as possible, 
 get into a good position for observing, and open up 
 communication with the battery — no, wait a mo- 
 ment!" The telephone bell was ringing again. 
 
 ^'Message from battalion commander!" said the 
 orderly. 
 
 "Yes?" Von Waldhofer spoke Into the instrument. 
 *T am firing on them now. No, I am without ob- 
 servation. Five minutes ago. Really! What are 
 they? Not ordinary cars? Something quite new? 
 Herr Gott, this is serious ! Yes. Yes. I quite un- 
 derstand. I am not to retire while I have ammuni- 
 tion. Good ! You may rely on us. We shall stand 
 to the last man." 
 
 He put down the receiver and stood for a mo- 
 ment in deep thought, his hand pressed to his high, 
 bald brow. Then he shook himself alert. He 
 turned to Eberstein. "Hurry!" he said irritably. 
 "Everything is at stake!" The lieutenant sprang 
 up the stairway and vanished. 
 
 Von Waldhofer put on his helmet and gave a last 
 order to the telephonist before he followed his sub- 
 altern. 
 
 "Ring up Captain Pferzheim. Tell him to send 
 up every available round as quickly as possible. 
 Urgently required." 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 115 
 
 Then he also ran up the narrow stairway into the 
 bright morning light. 
 
 "Two telephonists, all necessary instruments, with 
 me into flank observing station at once I" he shouted 
 to the sergeant major. 
 
 He went swiftly toward the battery. The last 
 gun had just finished its allotted ten rounds. They 
 lay now silent in their wide-spaced row, smoke up- 
 curling from their muzzles. Their attendant crews 
 stood, coatless, mopping the sweat on their brows. 
 Far and near the thunderous uproar of the battle 
 swelled; it seemed louder than ever, now that he 
 had come from the dugout into the open air. The 
 English batteries had lengthened their range. As 
 he walked he glanced at Flers. It was whelmed in 
 fumes. Explosion upon explosion leaped up among 
 the huddled houses in the trees, fragments, timbers, 
 earth clods momentarily poised upon a dome of dark 
 smoke. White shrapnel puffs sprang incessantly into 
 existence above the roofs. He heard the hissing 
 rush of an approaching shell without faltering in 
 his pace, so preoccupied was he with the urgency of 
 the moment. He saw the quick upspout of smoke, 
 the heavy metallic crash came to his ears. He noted 
 only that it was well behind the battery. His eyes 
 were fixed on the officer with the guns. 
 
 "Oberleutnant Schwarzl" he called, stopping sud- 
 denly some twenty yards from the battery. 
 
 The long-coated, helmeted lieutenant stiffened as 
 though galvanised, walked smartly up to him, sa- 
 
116 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 luted, and waited rigidly for his orders. Ober- 
 leutnant Schwarz, a young, freckle-faced fellow, set 
 the pattern for discipline in that battery. The com- 
 mander noted the punctilious attitude without his 
 wonted inward smile. The occasion had found the 
 man. 
 
 "Schwarz, communication with the forward offi- 
 cer is interrupted. Eberstein has gone to re-estab- 
 lish it, if possible. I am going into the flank ob- 
 serving station. Orders will come from there. Put 
 the einjahriger into the telephone dugout. The 
 situation is critical. Something has gone wrong. A 
 new kind of armoured car has broken through the 
 trench line. They must be stopped at all costs. The 
 orders from the battalion commander are formal. 
 The battery will not retire while it has ammunition. 
 I have ordered up every available round. The bat- 
 tery will maintain its position, whatever happens, 
 while it has a man and a shell. Is that clear?'* 
 
 Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted in precise, parade- 
 ground fashion. 
 
 "Quite, Herr Hauptmann,** he replied unemo- 
 tionally. 
 
 "If I become a casualty, the command devolves 
 upon you," continued Von Waldhofer. "Remem- 
 ber, these armoured cars are your target, wherever 
 they can be fired on. Use direct laying if you get 
 the opportunity." A flight of shells burst In a suc- 
 cession of heavy crashes on the swelling ground to 
 his right. He glanced at them. "Keep a couple of 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN IIT 
 
 ground men going over the wire to the observing 
 station. Here, two of you!" he shouted suddenly to 
 some mounted N. C. O.'s who at that moment trot- 
 ted up to the battery with a string of ammunition 
 limbers. Upon his sign, one of them dismounted. 
 The captain swung himself into the vacated saddle. 
 Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted once more. Accom- 
 panied by the other N. C. O., the battery commander 
 set off at a hard gallop up the rising ground into the 
 cloud of smoke from the just-burst shells. 
 
 The flank observing station was a splinter-proof 
 dugout on a little knoll some five hundred yards away 
 to the left flank of the battery. It had been con- 
 structed in provision of the unexpected. Von Wald- 
 hofer spurred toward it now at the top pace of his 
 horse. Despite many shell bursts on the ground 
 and in the air, he reached it safely. Leaping to 
 earth, he threw the reins to his follower and sent 
 both horses back. Then he dived into the dugout. 
 
 Both telephonists were there, awaiting him. The 
 large-scale map was pinned out on a board, instru- 
 ments upon it. The range finder stood by the ob- 
 servation slit. One of the orderlies was testing the 
 telephone communication to the battery. Von Wald- 
 hofer pulled his glasses out of their case, pressed 
 himself against the observation slit, and looked out. 
 
 Directly in front of him the bare ground, with 
 many minor undulations, rose steadily to the shat- 
 tered silhouette of the Bois de Foureaux on the sky 
 line. But no longer was the view clear as when he 
 
118 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 last had gazed on it. Over all lay a haze which the 
 early-morning sun was powerless to penetrate. In 
 the foreground and wide to right and left in the 
 middle distance spurted and twinkled the primrose 
 flashes of the guns, more rapidly multiplied than 
 any eye could count. On the ridge the smoke lay 
 thick, bellying in dark masses over the tree stumps 
 of the wood, poised on the horizon in tall, heavy- 
 headed columns, like elm trees in full foliage. In the 
 air, long bands of white shrapnel smoke reached out 
 and clung to each other in a lazy drift, while among 
 them the large, dead-black bursts of heavy, high- 
 explosive shrapnel appeared suddenly, darted ahead 
 from the round nucleus, and then unfolded them- 
 selves slowly and snakily earthward. Between him 
 and the ridge, the whole wide amphitheatre was 
 being thickly sown with English shells. Near and 
 far, the smoke columns shot incessantly into the air. 
 Over the road from Flers to the Bois de Delville, 
 which crossed his view at right angles, the white 
 shrapnel puffs clustered in ever-renewed groups. 
 Over all, English aeroplanes in scores flitted to and 
 fro, daringly low, yet apparently unchallenged. No 
 longer did this arena appear untenanted. In every 
 part there was movement and confusion of Lillipu- 
 tian figures. Far away, three tiny ammunition 
 wagons raced toward a battery. Closer at hand, 
 grey-clad infantry dashed in sections along the shell- 
 swept road from Flers. They tugged low bomb 
 carts on long hand ropes. He knew subconsciously 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 119 
 
 that they were going to reinforce the great trench 
 line that stretched east and west from Martinpuich 
 to Lesboeufs. Farther afield, other bands of grey 
 midgets, scarcely visible, were rushing forward. 
 Everywhere from the rim of battle pressure, grey 
 figures were filtering in ragged streams down toward 
 the lower ground. A long way off, on that rim, his 
 glasses revealed a nodal point of confusion. He 
 focused on it. There were tiny grey figures, 
 grouped, in quick movement to and fro. Little 
 smoke dots were all around them. Then the con- 
 fusion cleared. He saw darker figures running for- 
 ward, the twinkle of sun on a distant bayonet. For 
 a moment he held them under view anxiously. Then 
 with an impatient movement he swept his glasses 
 round. Not there was the target that he sought. 
 
 Suddenly he arrested his sweep. To his left, much 
 closer to him than he had been looking, a field bat- 
 tery topped a little rise, retiring at full gallop among 
 a welter of shell smoke. It passed down below his 
 vision. His glasses remained steadily focused on 
 the rise over which it had come, fascinated by the 
 abnormality, expectant of the cause. 
 
 It appeared. Slightly to the right of the course 
 of the retreating battery, something emerged over 
 the crest — something slow, ponderous, shapeless — 
 drawing itself up. The silhouette of a gun project- 
 ing from its flank barred the sky. Swiftly he re- 
 placed his glasses by the range finder. As he twisted 
 the thumbscrew that brought the inverted vision into 
 
120 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 juxtaposition with the normal, he saw a group of 
 grey soldiers surround the monster, hurl little puffs 
 of smoke at it. He saw the gun slue, spit ; saw sol- 
 diers who waved white rags tripping over those 
 already fallen. The double visions met; he read the 
 range. The thing drew itself up, turned slightly, 
 creeping on its belly, snout in the air, like an un- 
 couth saurian from the prehistoric slime. It was 
 moving more quickly than he at first realised. In 
 another instant he had taken the angle to the aiming 
 post, plotted another, and was shouting orders to 
 the telephonist: 
 
 "All guns 28.3 degrees left! Right-half section, 
 No. I gun 980 metres; No. 2 gun 960 metres! With 
 percussion! One round! Fire!^* 
 
 Through the range finder he saw the burst of the 
 two shells at the same moment that the detonations 
 of the guns came to his ears. One fell full in the 
 midst of the group of grey soldiery, whelmed them 
 in black smoke. The other burst beyond. The thing 
 paused not, nor hurried. At an even pace, it drew 
 its low bulk along, dipped now for the descent. 
 
 "Right half section 970 metres ! Left-half section 
 960 metres ! With percussion ! Twenty rounds bat- 
 tery fire! Fire!'* 
 
 Spout upon spout of black smoke heralded the ex- 
 plosions of the guns. The monster was blotted out. 
 Feeling like one engaged in a struggle with a crea- 
 ture born not in our time or space, of another world, 
 Von Waldhofer prayed for a direct hit. The smoke 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 121 
 
 cleared. He looked for what should be its ripped 
 and stationary bulk. It was not there. The thing 
 had passed onward, dipped into the hollow, out of 
 sight. 
 
 He was suddenly aware that the enemy shell fire, 
 always heavy, had increased in intensity. The smoke 
 spouts shot up more numerously, grouped themselves 
 more densely. Gradually they extended to new areas, 
 abandoned those already covered. He realised in 
 a flash that the monster was moving behind its spe- 
 cial barrage, aeroplane directed from above. He 
 shouted fresh orders, altering the range. Blindly 
 he hurled his shells into the hollow behind the screen 
 of smoke. 
 
 If only he had direct observation I He shouted to 
 the telephonist: 
 
 "Ask if communication has been made with Leut- 
 nant Eberstein." 
 
 The reply came: "Nothing has been heard of 
 Leutnant Eberstein. Six men have just been killed 
 In the battery." 
 
 Von Waldhofer's exclamation expressed rather 
 annoyance than grief at the loss of his subordinate. 
 He turned again to look through the observation 
 slit. There was a blinding crash 
 
 When he came to, he found himself gazing at the 
 blue sky. The deep breath he drew half choked him 
 with the fumes of burned explosive. Shaking in 
 every limb, he struggled to his feet. Before him lay 
 his two orderlies, dead. The dugout was wrecked 
 
122 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 and roofless. The telephone Instrument was strewn 
 In fragments on the floor. He himself was un- 
 wounded. 
 
 He listened, with a sudden anxiety, for the de- 
 tonations of his guns. The general uproar had di- 
 minished not at all, but the familiar crashes were 
 wanting In the din. How long had he lain there? 
 A wild fear seized him. Scrambling out of the 
 ruined dugout, he ran breathlessly toward the bat- 
 tery. 
 
 The enemy fire was as Intense as ever. The air 
 was filled with the whine and scream of arriving 
 shells and the heavy crashes of their explosion. 
 From somewhere behind came the rattle of rifles and 
 machine guns and the dull thud of bombs. Grey- 
 clad men In swarms were running across the open 
 ground athwart his path. He heard them shouting, 
 saw oflicers gesticulating, realised as In a dream that 
 they were running from the battle. But their fear 
 touched him not. He was enveloped In concern for 
 his beloved battery. 
 
 He arrived on the lip of the depression where It 
 lay. In a surge of joy, he saw the four guns lying 
 in the familiar places, saw them strangely naked, 
 their protective veils ripped and hurled aside, saw 
 barely sufiiclent crews standing at their posts, saw 
 the position gashed with shell holes and littered with 
 prone grey bodies, shattered limbers, and dead 
 horses. Even as he looked, a salvo of shrapnel 
 burst with deafening cracks above them, and white, 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 123 
 
 fleecy clouds floated over the battery. On the near 
 flank, In the position of command, stood Oberleut- 
 nant Schwarz, rigid and precise as on the parade 
 ground. 
 
 Von Waldhofer ran down the slope toward him. 
 
 "Schwarz I Schwarz T* he called. 
 
 The oberleutnant advanced to meet him, and, 
 looking calmly at his chief as though his smoke- 
 blackened face and torn clothing were in no way 
 out of the normal, saluted with perfect gravity. 
 
 "What has been happening?'* 
 
 "We have been under heavy fire, Herr Haupt- 
 mann. All the wires are cut In many places. The 
 telephone dugout has been blown in. We are abso- 
 lutely without communications. The battery has 
 fired whenever there was a chance of a target. Your 
 orders have been obeyed. The battery has stood Its 
 ground. We have only three rounds per gun left. 
 I am waiting now for an opportunity to fire." 
 
 Listening to the cool report of his subordinate, 
 Von Waldhofer recovered his soldierly poise. 
 
 "Excellent. You have done well, Schwarz. And 
 the casualties?" 
 
 "I regret, heavy." He waved a gloved hand to- 
 ward the bare dozen standing by the guns. "All 
 that are left." 
 
 There was the loud, hissing, nerve-paralysing rush 
 of a shell at arrival. Simultaneously with the shat- 
 tering crash that leaped from the fountain of black 
 smoke, Oberleutnant Schwarz put his hand to his 
 
124 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 breast, performed a sharp half turn, and fell — 
 dead. 
 
 The reverberation yet rang when a second rush 
 and crash followed the first. A third and fourth 
 shook the air almost too quickly for distinction. The 
 battery commander's brain worked with the time- 
 less speed of a great crisis or a dream. In an in- 
 computable fraction of a second he saw the heavy 
 barrage which had preceded the slowly crawling 
 monster, was conscious of an aeroplane overhead, 
 saw his opportunity and his plan. He ran toward 
 the guns, shouting: *'Lie down! Lie down!" The 
 crews obeyed. Standing among the strewn corpses, 
 the guns seemed manned only by the dead. He 
 flung himself prone on the flank of the battery. 
 
 Shell after shell swooped and burst on the stretch 
 of ground In front of him. Fed by the constantly 
 spouting black geysers, an ever-thickening, dark mist 
 drifted across, blotted out the distance. Through 
 it he saw the freshly thrown edges, brown and white, 
 of unfamiliar shell craters pocking the undulating 
 ground. The worn, smooth greensward that he had 
 known was being churned into loose clay and chalk, 
 mingled haphazard in their fall from the fierce up- 
 ward gush. The reiterated crash upon crash of 
 near explosions all but obliterated the far-flung din 
 of the general battle, but through them he caught 
 waves of an appalling uproar welling out of Flers. 
 Slowly, riving, crashing, upspouting its black foun- 
 tains of smoke and earth, the barrage marched on- 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 125 
 
 ward, passing across the battery front. Now I 
 Through the mist he saw the directing aeroplane 
 swoop down in front of him, absurdly low, rattling 
 its machine gun. A group of grey figures sprang up 
 beneath it, both arms high above the head, tumbling 
 among the shell holes as they ran. A temptation 
 flitted across his mind. One round gunfire, and that 
 aeroplane was blown to fragments. His lips tight- 
 ened. He did not move. The battery seemed aban- 
 doned by all but its dead. 
 
 Age-long seconds passed as he watched, peering 
 through the thinning mist. Save for one little group 
 of hasty, self-obliterating men, his immediate front 
 was a deserted waste of churned earth, sloping gently 
 upward away from him. Once, over the low near 
 sky line seen from his prone position, he thought 
 he saw the spurt of a bomb. But he could not be 
 sure. And a bomb did not necessarily betoken the 
 presence of the — thing. Yes! What was that? 
 Something was lifting itself slowly and with jerks 
 beyond that near sky line. Ponderously, with the 
 efforts of a limbless living thing, it drew its bulk up, 
 seemed to step, nosing the air with its blind snout. 
 Now I Not yet I He had only one chance — cer- 
 tainty. The monster moved on again, downward 
 now, lurching and wallowing among the shell holes 
 like a ship in a heavy sea. He saw the gun swinging 
 in the side turret as it rolled, the bright-splashed 
 colouring of its flank. It was passing diagonally 
 across his front. It must climb to escape. Now I 
 
126 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 He sprang to his feet, shouting with all his lungs : 
 
 "To the guns!" The crews leaped up, resusci- 
 tated. "Point-blank I At the devil I With percus- 
 sion! All guns I Fire!" 
 
 But, quick as he and his men had been, the mon- 
 ster was quicker. At his first movement, with a 
 mighty jerk, it had slued itself nose on to the battery. 
 Ere a hand could clutch a firing lever, a storm of 
 small, violently exploding shells burst right in among 
 the guns, a hail of whip-cracking machine-gun bul- 
 lets smote on men and metal. Von Waldhofer looked 
 toward the monster lurching heavily toward him. 
 A paroxysm of suspense held him rigid. To his 
 horror, he heard — not four — ^but one detonation. 
 The thing dipped. He saw the shell burst — over! 
 He glanced toward the guns in speechless agony. 
 The last gunner was in the act of falling, lifeless, 
 across the trail. 
 
 High-nosed, seeming to smell its enemies rarher 
 than to see them, like an uncouth, blind monster of 
 the rudimentary past, the thing crept on, its speed as 
 surprising as a reptile's. Viciously, with unallayed 
 suspicions, it spat its missiles. at the dead battery. 
 Von Waldhofer stood alone, erect, praying that one 
 might strike him. 
 
 Suddenly its fire ceased. He heard the loud clat- 
 ter of its machinery as it approached, saw the rolling 
 bands on which it moved. He felt that it was com- 
 ing to mark its triumph over his beloved guns, felt 
 its disdain for him, their helpless master. An in- 
 
PANZERKRAFTWAGEN 1«7 
 
 sane hatred for It gushed up in him, swept away his 
 conscious self. For once a well-schooled German 
 lost his head. He whipped out his pistol, ran like 
 a madman toward the devil wagon. He fired again 
 and again, desperately seeking the eye, the brain, 
 like a hunter at bay with a crocodile. He heard cries 
 of agony from Inside the monster. Some of his 
 shots had registered. But blindly the thing rolled 
 on, ponderous, invulnerable. It bulked huge above 
 him. He heard a shriek. It was his own. 
 
THE SPY 
 
 THERE IS only one Paris In the world I" mur- 
 mured M. de Marleux in a sudden soliloquy 
 as he glanced round him from the rear cushions of 
 the luxurious car that rolled silently along the boule- 
 vard. The broad street was flooded with morning 
 sunshine, brightly reflected from the splashes of 
 broken colours on the kiosks under the fresh green 
 foliage of the long-ranked trees. The open fronts 
 of the cafes were already shaded by their awnings ; 
 but the elderly waiters stood Idly, white napkins In 
 hand, by the green-bucketed shrubs that flanked 
 them. The habitues would not arrive for some time 
 yet; were only sparsely replaced by the somewhat 
 diflident men In khaki and other strange uniforms, 
 who sat awkwardly at the little tables and gazed, 
 fascinated, at the never-ending streams of bare- 
 headed, well-dressed young women which flowed past 
 them from each direction. 
 
 Barrows loaded high with flowers were borne on 
 the lakelike level asphalt; were in pleasant exotic 
 contrast to the long motor busses, the vivaciously 
 busy cars which darted and swerved past them. M. 
 
 128 
 
THE SPY 129 
 
 de Marieux sniffed at a mass of roses, with a vo- 
 luptuous trembling of the nostrils above the ultra- 
 black moustache, as his car dodged round a crazy 
 creaking vehicle in answer to a deft touch of the 
 chauffeur at the wheel. 
 
 "Paris!" He murmured the word, like a sum- 
 mary of a multitude of exquisite sensations, with the 
 ecstasy of an Epicurean satisfied. He chuckled to 
 himself. *^Tiens! Je deviens plus Parisien que les 
 Parigotsr he murmured aloud. 
 
 Then he smiled suddenly at his unconscious use 
 of the soldier slang taught him by his son, a slang 
 he had often reproved with that worthy dignity 
 which befits a highly successful man in his intercourse 
 with his offspring. Simultaneously a cold unmoved 
 contra-self in him remarked on his growing and 
 dangerous habit of speaking his thoughts aloud. . . . 
 Mental strain! He accepted the diagnosis with a 
 sense of justification. His smile was renewed, less 
 pleasantly, at an obscurely linked thought; became 
 grim and mocking. 
 
 He found himself looking at a picture familiar 
 to his childhood, a lavishly coloured oleograph illus- 
 trating the triumphal march of the conquerors into 
 Paris in 187 1 ; heard his father reiterating with pride 
 that the Bavarian battalion in the foreground was 
 his own. He remembered that, as time passed, his 
 father insisted on a personal identification with the 
 pompously strutting private in the front rank. 
 
 That was long ago. Few — he hoped none— could 
 
130 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 identify him as the little boy who had emigrated with 
 his father into Switzerland during the bad time of 
 economic reaction in 1873, and thence into France. 
 The double naturalisation of the parent, the death 
 of a son born in the last-adopted land, had left M. 
 Victor de Marieux with papers in perfect order, ex- 
 cept for a discrepancy between the fact that the rec- 
 ord of his birth, and a confusion of first names with 
 his brother. Mardorf had become Marieux almost 
 before his memory. The "de" had slipped in im- 
 perceptibly, comparatively recently. M. Victor de 
 Marieux would have become quite French except 
 for his father's passionate tutelage, reinforced at 
 the right time by a period at a German university. 
 
 Since then — well, many things had happened that 
 M. de Marieux was quite content to forget. The 
 early stages of that remarkable financial enterprise, 
 the Societe Universelle d'Economie et de Prevoy- 
 ance, which from its palatial headquarters in Paris 
 controlled a multitude of branches in the provinces 
 and had most important foreign relationships, were 
 well left in obscurity. The dazzling figure of its 
 plutocratic chief — ^the husband of a beautiful French- 
 woman of unimpeachable race, unhappily now de- 
 ceased; the father of a brilliant young artillery offi- 
 cer, who romantically and absurdly preferred his 
 battery to a staff appointment; the host, since many 
 years, of tout Paris; the dimly apprehended power 
 behind much contemporary politics — was surrounded 
 with such an aureole that none could look beyond it 
 
THE SPY 131 
 
 into the past. Fragmentary outlines of this career 
 flitted through M. de Marieux's brain as he leaned 
 back in his car and smiled at the memory of that 
 German oleograph. The retrospect increased the 
 pleasant sense of self-satisfaction with which he had 
 set out that morning. He reinforced it by a glance 
 at the folded newspaper he held in his hand. 
 
 His car swung onto the pavement in front of the 
 large-windowed granite facade of the Societe Uni- 
 verselle d'Economie et de Prevoyance. An elderly 
 porter, superb in a uniform whose richness was en- 
 hanced by its aristocratic restraint, stepped forward 
 to open the door for him, bowed as he passed up the 
 white marble steps Into the entrance hall with Its 
 checkered black-and-white marble pavement. 
 
 M. de Marieux glanced, through the great glass 
 doors at his right. Into the vast counting house under 
 the lofty semi-Grecian ceiling, whence artistic bronze 
 bowls, containing electric-light bulbs, were pendent 
 on long chains. At row after row of desks, beyond 
 the polished oak counter, blue-jumpered girl clerks 
 were busy, white papers fluttering In their hands. 
 He could imagine the rustle of countless documents, 
 the murmur of many voices earnestly conducting his 
 — M. de Marieux's — ^business. 
 
 It was a glance that was habitual to him and one 
 that never failed to gratify. The premises of the 
 Societe Unlverselle were a monument to the success 
 of its founder, a success that was always freshly 
 pleasant to the impressionable artist who lurked 
 
132 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 somewhere in the many-chambered soul of the great 
 financier. 
 
 Smiling — he had many reasons to smile that morn- 
 ing — he entered the lift, open and waiting for him. 
 An instant later he was shot up to a higher floor. 
 
 As he entered his large luxuriously furnished pri- 
 vate room, M. Jocelyn, his elderly secretary, rose 
 respectfully from the desk at which he had opened 
 the morning correspondence. The financier replied 
 cheerfully to the diffident greeting; addressed his 
 secretary as ''Mow cher JocelynT^ The day had 
 opened well. 
 
 M. de Marieux walked across to the magnificent 
 piece of furniture that served him as his working 
 desk, carefully deposited the folded newspaper, 
 glanced at the pile of letters whose superscriptions 
 and heavy seals announced that they were for his 
 eye alone, and sat down. His secretary approached 
 with a sheaf of opened correspondence. The morn- 
 ing's work began — M. Jocelyn marvelled once more 
 at his chief's unerring judgment and instantaneous 
 decisions. 
 
 The routine work finished, M. de Marieux leaned 
 back in his chair, tapping the desk with the ex- 
 quisite silver paper knife with which he would open 
 his confidential letters. It was the signal for the 
 departure of the secretary. M. Jocelyn, however, 
 lingered. 
 
 "£f Monsieur Henrif^ he asked, diffidently smil- 
 ing over his sheaf of papers. 
 
THE SPY 133 
 
 "Excellent! I thank you, my dear Jocelyn," re- 
 plied the financier with unforced sincerity. "He ar- 
 rived on leave this morning. He is enjoying him- 
 self — killing boches by the thousands, if one may 
 believe him." He looked up, smiling under his black 
 moustache. 
 
 The worthy M. Jocelyn showed his clenched teeth 
 and shook his head, terrierlike, in earnest ferocity. 
 
 *'Ah, ces boches r* he said. ^^Mais on les aura, 
 Monsieur de Marieux! On les auraF 
 
 "Of course I" replied the financier, blandly benig- 
 nant. "Your son is still at Verdun, I see.'' He 
 smiled at his own perspicacity. 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur de Marieux. It is of him that I 
 would speak to you. He has just been nominated 
 sous-lieutenant!* M. Jocelyn was radiant with pa- 
 ternal pride. 
 
 "A thousand congratulations, my dear Jocelyn!" 
 said M. de Marieux warmly. "He is an excellent 
 young man. Ah — he will need money for his new 
 equipment. Bring me a check for five hundred francs 
 to sign this afternoon — ^that will help him." 
 
 The elderly secretary stammered in delighted sur- 
 prise: "Monsieur is too good! If monsieur will 
 pardon me, I have always considered monsieur as 
 the type of a true patriot." 
 
 For M. Jocelyn this was the summit of compli- 
 ment. Anything less would have been inadequate 
 to this occasion. 
 
 "One does what one can, my dear Jocelyn," said 
 
134 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the financier with a negligent wave of the hand. 
 
 He picked up one of the heavily sealed envelopes. 
 It was a hint that was not to be disregarded. The 
 secretary tiptoed out of the room. 
 
 M. de Marieux, however, did not at once open 
 the letter. He looked up under his eyebrows as the 
 door closed, assured himself that it was firmly shut, 
 and then put down the envelope. He took up the 
 folded newspaper, spread it out. The main feature 
 upon the Derniere Heure page was a column headed 
 L' Affaire Valrouge. There what had evidently been 
 a journalistic scoop ended, however. The censor 
 had been at work and the remainder of the column 
 was blank from top to bottom. 
 
 M. de Marieux's mouth twisted itself into a wry 
 smile as he gazed at the significantly blank column, 
 headed with the name of one of the most notorious 
 Parisian journalists, pregnant with startling scandal. 
 Whatever of the mysterious this suppressed column 
 might have for the general public, to M. de Marieux 
 its purport was evidently clear enough. His smile 
 broadened to one of unpleasant satisfaction. 
 
 "The end of Valrouge!'* he murmured. "It was 
 quite time I" 
 
 He rose from his chair, walked across to a wall 
 hung with several artistically spaced-out pictures, 
 and stopped before a Degas study of gauzy ballet 
 dancers, ethereal in a blaze of limelight beyond the 
 near crudity of the coulisses. He pressed an un- 
 marked spot on the wall and a heavy door swung 
 
THE SPY 135 
 
 silently open, carrying the picture with it, revealing 
 a cabinet of drawers labelled alphabetically. He 
 opened one marked "V," took out a bundle of corre- 
 spondence, glanced at it, and swung the door back 
 into its place. 
 
 Then he walked across to the empty fireplace, laid 
 the bundle in the grate and stood over it, pondering 
 with bent brows, match box ready in his fingers. His 
 hesitation finished with a reversal of his previous 
 decision. He picked the bundle of correspondence 
 out of the grate and stuffed it into a capacious brief 
 pocket inside his coat. It marred his elegance and 
 he frowned as he patted it down. 
 
 "I must take care of it,'* he murmured — "or Val- 
 rouge will have a companion." 
 
 He went back to his desk and commenced to open 
 his letters. He went through them swiftly, brows 
 bent in concentration of thought, made notes on 
 some, locked away others. At the reading of one 
 of them his features relaxed into a smile that hinted 
 at relief from pressing anxiety. The postmark and 
 stamp were Swiss. The heading on the note paper 
 was Adolphe Lammartin et Cie., Banquiers, Berne. 
 The letter ran : "In answer to your telegram of the 
 twenty-second, M. Olivier Lammartin, of our house, 
 will be in Paris on the morning of the twenty-fifth. 
 His address will be the Hotel Triest. He is fully 
 empowered to negotiate all matters affecting our in- 
 terests *' 
 
 M. de Marieux leaned back in his chair and his 
 
1S6 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 eyes narrowed. He was extremely well acquainted 
 with the financial house of Lammartin et Cie. — ^bet- 
 ter acquainted, he hoped, than any one save them- 
 selves and a certain bureau in Berlin would ever 
 appreciate ; but he did not remember the existence of 
 M. Olivier Lammartin — had certainly never met 
 him. He pondered doubtfully. Then he held the 
 sheet of note paper to the light and nodded in recog- 
 nition of a not apparently noteworthy watermark. 
 This was no trap. In his reassurance he uncon- 
 sciously whistled a few bars of a cheerful tune — he 
 stopped, suddenly perceiving It to be the Marseil- 
 laise. He had heard a band playing It at the head 
 of troops marching to the station as he came to the 
 office that morning, he remembered. He picked up 
 the receiver of the telephone upon his table. 
 
 "Monsieur Laporte there?" he queried. "Ah — 
 good day, Laporte! Come up to my room if you 
 please.'' His tone had the decision with which he 
 usually addressed the general manager of the Societe 
 Unlverselle — a decision that clearly indicated the 
 master. 
 
 In an incredibly few moments there was a knock 
 at the door and M. Laporte, a tall myopic man, 
 with a bald patch on the crown of his head, entered 
 the room. He looked nervously over his pince-nez 
 as he approached M. de Marieux, seated at the 
 table. 
 
 **Eh bien, mon cher haporte^ he said with crisp 
 geniality; "and what is the situation to-day?" 
 
THE SPY 13T 
 
 The general manager shook his head dolefully 
 and exhaled f», heavy sigh. 
 
 "Bad, Monsieur de Marieux. The deposits you 
 expected have not been made. The bills of Dela- 
 fosse will be protested. Our collateral is down an 
 average three points this morning. We have not a 
 centime more of security to give. We have those 
 heavy liabilities to meet " 
 
 M. de Marieux leaned back in his chair and 
 smiled as he rubbed his hands together. 
 
 *'My dear Laporte," he said in half-humorous 
 reprehension, **you are incurable." 
 
 The general manager stared at him, with a short- 
 sighted pucker of the brows. 
 
 "But — if I may say so, Monsieur de Marieux — 
 you do not realise I This is the twenty-fifth of the 
 month. Unless a miracle happens before the thir- 
 tieth" — he waved his hand expressively — "crash!" 
 
 M. de Marieux still leaned back in his chair, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 "My dear Laporte," he said, "how long have you 
 been in my service? Ten years! And how many 
 times in that ten years have you come to me to warn 
 me of the crash within a week?" 
 
 "Many — I must confess, Monsieur de Marieux," 
 stammered the manager. 
 
 "Well you will probably come many more times 
 in the next ten years. And each time, my dear La- 
 porte, you will see the miracle happen, as it is going 
 to happen now." 
 
138 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Perplexity and relief struggled In the manager's 
 face. 
 
 "Monsieur's private account ?" he ventured, 
 
 hazarding a solution. 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Laportel'* said his master 
 severely. "You should know me better than that. 
 . . • . You will have a blank transfer of the Mo- 
 roccan concessions made out at once." 
 
 M. Laporte's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The 
 eyes beneath them blinked behind the pince-nez as 
 though uncertain that they saw accurately a normally 
 smiling man in the seat of the master. 
 
 "The — the German concessions we took over 
 from Mannesmann, monsieur?" 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "But — ^but they are worthless '* 
 
 "Don't try to understand, my dear Laporte. 
 Have that blank transfer on my desk within half an 
 hour and get the concessions out of the safe." 
 
 '*Bien, monsieur T* The manager obviously re- 
 nounced the attempt to comprehend. His eye fell 
 upon the newspaper spread upon the desk, the sig- 
 nificantly blank column prominent. "This A f aire 
 Valrouge^ monsieur — it is evidently a terrible scan- 
 dal; everybody is talking about it — ^they say it is a 
 question of military secrets." 
 
 "Indeed!" said M. de Marleux coolly. "They 
 say all sorts of things — ^but no one knows anything. 
 Don't listen, my dear Laporte ; or, if you do listen — 
 don't repeat." 
 
THE SPY 139 
 
 "I pay no attention, monsieur, I assure you; but 
 if it is true what they say, then shooting is too good 
 for the scoundrel I I have a son at the Front, mon- 
 sieur; I am anxious enough about him — the grand 
 offensive is certain to begin soon; and if there is 
 
 treachery But monsieur also has a son at the 
 
 Front and can understand my feelings." 
 
 "Quite I Quite I But don't believe half tli-se silly 
 stories of espionage. There's no truth in them. 
 . . . Er — what do you estimate the deficit at the end 
 of the month?" 
 
 The manager's face resumed its expression of 
 lugubrious alarm. 
 
 "Fifteen million francs, monsieur !" he announced 
 solemnly, looking as though he expected M. de Ma- 
 rieux to jump out of his seat with horror. 
 
 "Good!" said the financier equably. "Go and 
 have that transfer prepared." 
 
 M. Laporte left the room — to gesticulate with 
 both hands above his ears in the solitude of the cor- 
 ridor. 
 
 M. de Marieux turned to the telephone. He 
 asked for a number. 
 
 "Hello I The Hotel Triest? . . . Put me through 
 to M. Lammartin. . . . Yes. Telephone in his 
 room — n'est'ce pas? Yes." He waited. "Hello I 
 M. Olivier Lammartin? . . . M. de Marieux speak- 
 ing. Can you come and see me — ^now? . . . Yes. 
 In my office. You have the address?" He glanced 
 
140 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 at his watch. "In half an hour. Half past eleven. 
 Bon! Au revoirT^ He shut off. 
 
 M. de Marieux leaned back in his chair and tapped 
 his teeth with his gold pencil. 
 
 "The grand offensive!" he murmured, and smiled. 
 "Poor old Laportel But I must get Henri away 
 
 from his battery " His cogitations relapsed 
 
 into silence, prolonged. They rose again into the 
 soliloquy, tempted by the hush in the room, with an 
 exclamation: "If only he were not so obstinate!'* 
 He frowned, thinking hard. 
 
 M. de Marieux sat alone in his silent room, high 
 above the roar of the Paris boulevard, as upon the 
 summit of his career, and looked down vales of 
 thought into a distance where the imagination was 
 unhampered. The possessor of a secret — he felt 
 it symbolically in his clenched fist — ^that was decisive 
 of the fate of nations, his egoism was flattered with 
 the consciousness of power. He smiled grimly. At 
 the back of his mind was a certain loyalty to his 
 employers; but they would have to pay — pay heav- 
 ily — for the priceless information he would give 
 them. 
 
 He had reason to be pleased with himself. Few 
 secret agents had had so long a career of success 
 as he; few, indeed, had extracted such lavish re- 
 wards, both pecuniary and social, from a hazardous 
 profession; none, he thought, was less suspected. 
 Ministers were deferential to him, for M. de Ma- 
 rieux was a power in that half-hidden world of 
 
THE SPY 141 
 
 finance where the destinies of unconscious peoples are 
 plotted out. He was not merely a paid agent — he 
 was a semi-independent adventurer on the modern 
 equivalent of the Spanish Main. 
 
 The risky speculations in which he chanced the 
 funds of the Societe Universelle were uncontrolled 
 by any brain save his own; but always, as now, he 
 called in the assistance of his shadowy backers when 
 they were endangered. Always he gave good value 
 for the enormous sums he drew. He had no fear 
 that he would not be supported. In countless ways 
 the existence of the Societe Universelle, as directed 
 by its founder, was of incalculable value to those 
 scarcely human intelligences that he, with all his sub- 
 terranean information, knew only as numbers pre- 
 fixed with an initial. 
 
 He looked up startled as the door opened sud- 
 denly. A young artillery captain, elegant in his 
 sky-blue uniform, entered with a boisterous good 
 humour that shattered the conspiratorial quiet of the 
 financier's private room. M. de Marieux smiled 
 tolerantly. 
 
 "Business hours, Henri — ^business hours!" he said, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 "Pardon, father — ^but I was passing, and I 
 
 must tell you I I have just heard that this scoundrel 
 Valrouge has been betraying the plans for the grand 
 offensive I*' 
 
 "What?" M. de Marieux wondered whether he 
 
r 
 
 14g ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 had kept down his nervous start. He reassumed 
 control of himself. 
 
 "My dear Henri, wherever did you get that ab- 
 surd story?'* 
 
 "At the club, father." 
 
 M. de Marieux smiled. 
 
 "It was a canard, my dear boy — histoire de rire, 
 M. Valrouge had been dabbling in air-craft specifica- 
 tions. That is the truth of it; but keep it to your- 
 self." 
 
 He said this with such quiet certitude that the 
 young officer glanced at his father with a sudden 
 curiosity. 
 
 "But how do you know?" 
 
 "I know many things, my dear Henri — ^more than 
 I discuss." 
 
 "What has happened to him, then?" cried the 
 young man, disregarding the hint in the final clause. 
 "All Paris is talking." 
 
 M. de Marieux shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "I don't know," he said, meeting his son's eyes 
 without flinching. 
 
 *'Mon Dieul Father, I hope he is shot — though 
 shooting is too good for him. Anything more des- 
 picable, more hateful than a spy " He could not 
 
 finish other than by a gesture of fierce contempt. 
 
 "Agreed, my dear boy," said the financier. "But 
 
 — well, no nation can exist without them " He 
 
 stopped, checked by the virgin wrath in his son's 
 face. "Personally I should have no mercy for such 
 
THE SPY 143 
 
 canailleP' His smile was, somehow, incongruous 
 with the energy of his statement. 
 
 "Mercy!" The young officer laughed bitterly. 
 "When I think of all the splendid lads gayly risking 
 their lives to free their country, and think that they 
 might be murdered — ^murdered I — my gunners ! — for 
 that is what it comes to — ^by a treacherous dog in a 
 Paris office — mon Dieu, father, mercy is out of the 
 question I The severest justice is too weak!" 
 
 ** Accords,'* said M. de Marieux, looking down at 
 the gold pencil he tapped upon the white blotting 
 pad of his desk. "Now Henri, I want to talk to 
 you about that staff appointment. I have arranged 
 everything * * 
 
 The young man interrupted him : 
 
 "Pardon, father; but it is useless. I shall not 
 leave my battery. Soon — I don't know when, but 
 all the world knows — the grand offensive will com- 
 mence and we shall sweep the boches back across the 
 Rhine into the sties they came from. I have been 
 with my battery since the first day. I shall be with 
 it to the last if I live. I would not miss the great 
 time before us for life itself!" 
 
 'Tarfaitement/' agreed M. de Marieux, without 
 lifting his eyes from the desk. "I quite understand 
 and sympathise with your sentiment. But," here he 
 raised his glance to meet his son's, "I will guarantee 
 that your staff appointment is in the attacking army. 
 You will see more — ^find it infinitely more interesting. 
 
il44 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 You will have a front seat, in fact. And your career 
 will be assured." 
 
 The young man shook his head firmly. 
 
 "Pardon, father; but I know myself. I have no 
 talents for the staff. I am an artilleryman. I know 
 my seventy-fives. Serving them, I am useful to my 
 country, to this poor France of ours; you cannot 
 realise it, father — ^you have not seen the desolation, 
 the havoc, they have wrought — these swine ! I kill 
 Germans, father — that is my one glory, my one ex- 
 cuse for being a Frenchman and still alive. I kill 
 Germans!" 
 
 M. de Marieux's eyes sank before those of his son, 
 flaming as in the exaltation of a crusade. The young 
 man continued : 
 
 "France! That is all I live for — to feel that I 
 am usefully helping to rid our country — for it is 
 ours, father; it became yours long ago, before I 
 was born — ^think of our house, mother's house, in 
 the Argonne, and how you love it ! — to rid it forever 
 of these vermin! I declare to you, father," he fin- 
 ished passionately, "that if you intrigue behind my 
 back to put me into a safe place in the staff, I shall 
 never speak to you again — will cease to be your son I 
 I should feel myself dishonoured. Others are use- 
 ful, necessary, on the staff. My place is with my 
 cannons! Let me hear no more of it, father!" 
 
 M. de Marieux raised his head slowly. 
 
 "You are scarcely just to me, Henri." 
 
 "Pardon, father ! I know I said absurdities. You 
 
THE SPY 145 
 
 are incapable of intrigue. You are as French as I, 
 as my mother — she would not have loved you else. 
 Forgive me I" 
 
 M. de Marieux drew a long breath. 
 
 "Very well, Henri. It shall be as you wish. You 
 shall go back to your battery.'^ He glanced at his 
 watch. "Now you must leave me. I have a most 
 important appointment. Come back and lunch with 
 me at twelve o^clock." 
 
 "Thanks, father — ^thanks !" cried the young man, 
 seizing his father's hand. "I knew I should make 
 you understand — ^you are French, father, more even 
 than I, for you have lived longer than I have in this 
 dear France of ours ; and no one can live as we three 
 lived, mother, you and I, dans le pays, and not be- 
 come French to the bone! Of course you are I I 
 know you do your part — helping the government — 
 finding the money — all sorts of ways, I don't under- 
 stand — making it possible for me to kill Germans. 
 I am proud of you, father, because you are so French 
 — I often talk about you ; but then a Swiss is already 
 half French, isn't he?" 
 
 He laughed. "All right, father, I'm going. Au 
 revoir — a midir* 
 
 He went out of the room as boisterously as he 
 had entered it. M. de Marieux sat pondering, with 
 bent brows, his mouth troubled. Could he change 
 his plans — now — at this last moment? Yes; it was 
 possible I He saw himself forced to relinquish his 
 dream of retirement, forced to continue, with failing 
 
146 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 nerve, on his hazardous path. As an alternative, he 
 glanced at Henri, dying amid the wreckage of a bat- 
 tery on a day of appalling disaster. It decided him. 
 
 He looked up at a soft tap on the door. M. 
 Jocelyn entered, bearing a visiting card — M. Olivier 
 Lammartin. In the short interval of solitude before 
 the entrance of his visitor he braced himself for a 
 contest with an unknown he suddenly felt to be an 
 adversary. 
 
 The stranger entered — tall, with a clipped ruddy 
 beard, faultlessly dressed, silk hat in hand. 
 
 "M. de Marieux?" 
 
 The financier stared like one incredulous. M. 
 Jocelyn retired softly behind the closed door. 
 
 *^Conrad!'^ 
 
 "The same, my dear Victor! Messrs. Lammar- 
 tin could not refuse to render us this little service I'* 
 He smiled. "Many years since Heidelberg!" He 
 released his grip of his old student comrade's hand 
 and threw himself into an armchair, like one at 
 home. *^Ach! Sprich Deutsch, alter Kerlf I am 
 sick of this verdammte French — I have not been in 
 the country for twenty years. I am surprised at your 
 recognising me — the police did not; but you always 
 had a good eye, lieber Victor — nichtwahrf* He 
 laughed. "I remember your first success — ^the 
 woman " 
 
 He desisted at M. de Marieux's gesture of the 
 hand. 
 
 ^' ' Ayi^ 
 
 V... 
 
THE SPY 147 
 
 *'GenugP* He laughed again. You have gone 
 far since then. GratuliereF* 
 
 M. de Marieux leaned back in the chair at his 
 desk. His eyes hardened as he caressed his chin. 
 
 "You come fully empowered to negotiate as from 
 Lammartin?" he asked. 
 
 ^^Ganz, lieber Freund! GanzF^ The German's 
 blue eyes smiled at his old comrade — smiled with a 
 slight change of expression as they slid toward the 
 open newspaper on the desk. "That poor Val- 
 rougel" he said. "What has happened to him?" 
 
 "Shot this morning!*' 
 
 The brows over the blue eyes lifted slightly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 M. de Marieux's mouth thinned as it tightened. 
 
 "These subordinate agents sometimes become too 
 exacting." 
 
 The German's eyes rested full on the financier in 
 a moment's silence. 
 
 "Sol And you" — he waved his hand — "without 
 any suspicion?" 
 
 "I obtained authority from the French Govern- 
 ment to tempt him into selling me specifications of 
 the new aircraft now being made in a factory of 
 which he was director. It was simple. He knew his 
 only chance of pension for his wife and children de- 
 pended on his silence. It will be paid." 
 
 The German smiled. 
 
 "The orthodox way — ^but very effective, liehen 
 Victor; very effective!" 
 
148 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The financier responded by a grimly humorous 
 twitching of the mouth, a gleam of the eyes. He 
 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "One has perhaps to be trained to a sense of 
 values," he said, by way of epitaph. 
 
 *^Ja wohl — Valrouge is not the first to miscalculate 
 them; nor will he be the last. ... It is a delicate 
 balance between price and usefulness, my dear Vic- 
 tor,'' he added, smiling through the clipped ruddy 
 beard. 
 
 A little alarm bell rang suddenly somewhere in 
 the recesses of M. de Marieux's consciousness. His 
 eyes narrowed slightly, imperceptibly, as he contem- 
 plated his old college friend. Then he dared a pro- 
 vocative phrase, by way of reconnaissance. 
 
 *'We shall all come to it one day, I suppose," he 
 said lightly, "if we continue long enough in the 
 metier. The bureau makes no pretence to grati- 
 tude." 
 
 "Nor any other virtue — save that of efficiency," 
 laughed the German. "Yes; it is an ungrateful pro- 
 fession. I wonder you have kept at it so long, alter 
 Kerir His eyes swept carelessly over his friend's 
 face. "I should have expected you to retire long 
 ago." 
 
 M. de Marieux shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "It is difficult to retire," he said. "And then, I 
 have had important work to do — for the Father- 
 land," he added hypocritically. "But I will confess 
 that sometimes I look forward to an unharassed 
 
THE SPY 149 
 
 old age — I am not so young as once — to make way 
 for others perhaps more useful ; not, of course, now, 
 in the great time," he interjected in cautious paren- 
 thesis, *'but when the victory is won. To go down 
 to my little country place and live with my pictures, 
 and, I hope, see my son happily married — that is my 
 ambition, Conrad!" 
 
 *'To live in France?" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Why not? — I agree," suavely concurred the 
 German. "France is a charming country — for those 
 who love it." 
 
 "I adore it!" murmured M. de Marieux, half 
 unconsciously, seeing his Argonne chateau, set like 
 an exquisite jewel amid autumn-tinted woods. He 
 suddenly perceived his friend's eyes piercingly upon 
 him. 
 
 "Your son?" said Conrad. "Shall he succeed 
 you?" 
 
 M. de Marieux laughed. 
 
 "He is the most fervid of Frenchmen !" 
 
 "So I Well, it has its advantages at the present 
 time. A useful camouflage, Victor." 
 
 The little laugh that followed this remark was 
 unpleasant to M. de Marieux. 
 
 "Suppose we come to business, my dear Conrad," 
 said the financier. "I will put it tersely: I have the 
 opportunity to purchase a controlling interest in La 
 Feuille du Jour." 
 
 "A useful newspaper to capture," commented the 
 
150 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 German. "Valrouge had opened up a connection 
 with it, had he not? Yes. The price?" 
 
 "Twenty million francs — at once," said De Ma- 
 rieux calmly as he leaned back in his chair. 
 
 The German raised his eyebrows. 
 
 "A large sum," he said. "You can guarantee— 
 everything — for that?" 
 
 "I can guarantee a subtle discouragement in the 
 country — well-concealed propaganda for the peace 
 by understanding so urgently desired — and, of 
 course, much valuable private information. But the 
 offer must be seized at once. There is one more 
 point : To establish my bona fides in case the check 
 is traced, I propose to transfer my Mannesmann 
 securities to the Lammartins against their check for 
 this amount." 
 
 The German cogitated for a moment. 
 
 "And this is the big deal about which you tele- 
 graphed?" 
 
 "It is," replied M. de Marieux, awaiting the re- 
 sult of the emissary's deliberations with an outward 
 coolness that gave no hint of the desperate anxiety 
 within. Would he succeed? He saw his son's face, 
 heard his son's voice — and tried to obliterate the 
 hallucination, lest it should shake his nerve. 
 
 "H'm!" said the German. "We had hoped for 
 something of more precise and immediate value. 
 But we have confidence in you. I agree to this pro- 
 posal. Twenty million francs I Your sense of values 
 is very acute, lieher Victor T* 
 
THE SPY 151 
 
 The financier smiled to cover his deep exhala- 
 tion of relief. 
 
 "Very!" he said. He pressed the bell on his 
 desk. 
 
 M. Jocelyn appeared at the door with a bundle 
 of papers. 
 
 "The Mannesmann concessions and the transfer, 
 M. Jocelyn, if you please.'* 
 
 "They are here, monsieur." 
 
 M. Joceljm deposited them on the desk and with- 
 drew. 
 
 The German laughed. 
 
 '^Ein echter Geschdftsmannr* He produced a 
 check book from his pocket and advanced to the 
 table. "I shall not be less prompt." He drew up 
 a chair, sat down and filled up a check, already 
 signed by Messrs. Lammartin, for twenty million 
 francs. "I congratulate you on your deal, Victor!" 
 
 M. de Marieux smiled as he signed the transfer 
 of the concessions and pushed the bundle of docu- 
 ments across to his friend. 
 
 'Toiler he said. ''Cest tout!" 
 
 "Not quite all, lieher Victor,'* replied the Ger- 
 man. "One moment." 
 
 He took a sheet of note paper from the desk and 
 wrote rapidly: "I — undersigned — ^Victor de Ma- 
 rieux, acknowledge to have received twenty million 
 francs [F'cs 20,000,000] for the purchase of the 
 newspaper La Feuille du Jour; and I undertake to 
 direct the policy of the said newspaper in conform- 
 
162 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 ity with whatever directions I may receive." He 
 handed the document to M. de Marieux. 
 
 "Sign it, please/' he said calmly. 
 
 M. de Marieux signed. He placed the check 
 under a paper weight on his desk as the German 
 rose from his seat and strolled toward the big bay 
 window, high above the boulevard. He stood there, 
 looking down upon the streams of traffic passing be- 
 tween the green trees, the striped awnings of the 
 cafes. M. de Marieux joined him, contemplating 
 the scene below with that enjoyment which the view 
 never failed to produce in him. 
 
 '7/ rCy a que Paris '' he murmured to himself. 
 
 Conrad half turned to him. 
 
 ^*Vous devenez tout a fait Parisienr he said sud- 
 denly, his tone bantering. 
 
 **Plus Parisien que les ParigotsF' replied De Ma- 
 rieux with a happy little laugh; the memory of his 
 son did not now clash with the phrase. 
 
 The German saw a face at a window level with 
 him on the other side of the boulevard. He stared 
 at it fixedly. M. de Marieux returned to his desk, 
 bent over some documents. He looked up sud- 
 denly to see his old friend standing by his side — 
 and was startled at the expression of grim Satanic 
 humour on the blond face. 
 
 "Hand them over, De Marieux!'' said the Ger- 
 man. "The farce has gone on long enough I" 
 
 "I — I don't understand," stammered M. de Ma- 
 
THE SPY 153 
 
 rieux, losing his self-control almost for the first 
 time in his life. "What is it you want?" 
 
 "The plans for the grand offensive. The plans 
 Valrouge stole for you and of which you cheated 
 him. The plans you meant to sell us for twenty 
 million francs to bolster up your bankrupt business 
 — until you changed your mind and fancied you could 
 play a trick on us!" 
 
 M. de Marieux tried to laugh. 
 
 "My dear Conrad " 
 
 "Enough I" said the German in a voice that smote 
 him speechless. "Obey!" 
 
 He handed him a card on which was a letter and 
 a number, authenticated by mystic initials in the 
 corner. 
 
 M. de Marieux's face went deathly pale. He 
 sprang from his seat as a slave might at the entrance 
 of a barbaric despot, bowed low, his hands trem- 
 bling at the end of his pendent arms. 
 
 **Aher, Excellenz — I — I — had no idea " he 
 
 stammered. 
 
 "Obey I" thundered his master. 
 
 M. de Marieux raised his eyes, met for one brief 
 instant the blazing cruel blue eyes above the square 
 ruddy beard — and faltered. 
 
 "You are losing your sense of values, De Ma- 
 rieux I Remember Valrouge I You, too, have a son I 
 Be careful he is not involved in your ruin! Pro- 
 duce the plans — I know they are in this room !** 
 
 "My son I My son!" murmured De Marieux. 
 
1154 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Once more he tried to challenge the fierce blue eyes. 
 "And if I refuse?" The voice sounded strange to 
 him — not his own. 
 
 "You know our power, De Marieux. Obey I You 
 are a German. Germany commands you. And Ger- 
 many dishonours the son of the executed traitor!" 
 
 Something in the voice of the master was greater 
 than the master himself; something that called up a 
 flitting vision of a Bavarian soldier; something that 
 summoned into activity omnipotent racial instincts 
 of obedience, of solidarity, in this German who had 
 been half metamorphosed into a Frenchman. Indi- 
 viduality collapsed in him. 
 
 *^Zu Befehly Excellenzr he stammered, and went 
 falteringly across to the Degas picture. 
 
 The heavy door in the wall swung open at his 
 touch. He took out a thin envelope, glanced to see 
 that it was filled with flimsy sheets of paper, and 
 handed it to the chief he had so long obeyed, now 
 for the first time an identity to him. The German 
 buttoned it up in an inside pocket. 
 
 "So!" he said. "I see we can no longer trust 
 you, Mardorf." 
 
 The financier trembled at the ill-omened name. 
 He threw himself on his knees. 
 
 "Pardon, Excellenz! Pardon!" 
 
 The German looked down at him with an enig- 
 matic smile. Then he walked across to the window, 
 fixed once more that distant face level with him 
 
THE SPY 155 
 
 across the boulevard, and nodded quickly and de- 
 cisively. He turned to De Marieux. 
 
 "Get up !'* he said brutally. 
 
 The financier obeyed. 
 
 "And — and the twenty million francs, Excellenz? 
 You — ^you shall have good value. I swear it!" 
 
 "You can keep them," said the German contemp- 
 tuously. "The plans are worth that to us." 
 
 De Marieux stammered his thanks. He began to 
 recover his poise. 
 
 "I regret that I cannot offer you lunch, Excellenz. 
 I have an appointment at twelve o*clock." 
 
 The memory of his son was now flooding back on 
 him. He craved to finish this sinister incident before 
 the young man returned. Already a part of his brain 
 was beginning to scheme to detach Henri from his 
 battery; to put him somewhere safe. 
 
 **Dankey said the German curtly. "I, also, have 
 an appointment at that hour." He looked at his 
 
 watch. "It wants two minutes only " He 
 
 smiled. "You have delayed me longer than I antici- 
 pated, De Marieux." 
 
 "Pardon, Excellenz!" 
 
 At that moment the door was flung open. An 
 officer of the gendarmerie, followed by several men, 
 entered the room. He walked straight to the finan- 
 cier and laid a hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 "Victor Mardorf, dit Victor de Marieux, I arrest 
 you, in the name of the Republic, on a charge of con- 
 spiring with the enemy!" 
 
156 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 M. de Marieux stood, white and speechless, sway- 
 ing on his feet. 
 
 The officer turned to the man with the ruddy 
 beard. 
 
 "You have the proof, M. Lammartin?" 
 
 **La votciy Monsieur de CapitaineP* rephed the 
 agent. 
 
 He handed over the sheet of paper on which M. 
 de Marieux had undertaken to obey the orders of a 
 person unnamed. The officer put It in his pocket. 
 He turned to two of his men and pointed to the 
 financier. 
 
 "Search him!** he said. 
 
 Perspiration broke out on De Marieux's forehead 
 as the packet of Valrouge documents was taken from 
 him. He met the eyes of the man who had betrayed 
 him. 
 
 "Valrouge did not implicate M. de Marieux, I 
 think, M. le Capltaine?'* said the German pleas- 
 antly, in suave French. "Doubtless he had his rea- 
 sons." 
 
 A wild revolt surged up In the wretched man. 
 He pulled away one arm from the detaining grasp 
 of the gendarme and pointed at his betrayer. 
 
 "That man is a German !" he shrieked. "I swear 
 it! Arrest him! Arrest him! He has a most valu- 
 able military secret in his possession. I swear it! 
 Arrest him!" 
 
 The German smiled. 
 
 **Mon cher Capitaine, I am M. Olivier Lammar- 
 
THE SPY 157 
 
 tin, a Swiss banker. My papers are in perfect or- 
 der. I can produce them now or wherever you wish. 
 I have a special safe-conduct from high authority — 
 voicir 
 
 He produced a piece of paper, signed and sealed, 
 and gave it to the officer. It was returned with a. 
 polite bow. 
 
 ** Par fait, M. Lammartin. No one suspects you." 
 
 He turned to his prisoner, was about to order him 
 to march, when once more the door was burst open. 
 The young artillery officer dashed into the room — 
 stopped in amazement. 
 
 "Father!" he cried in an agony of apprehension. 
 "Father I What is this?" 
 
 M. de Marieux heaved a deep sigh as he stared 
 at his horror-stricken son; snatched at a desperate 
 resolve. 
 
 "Henri!" he said. "That man is a German, a 
 spy! He has betrayed me!" 
 
 "Betrayed you?" echoed the young man incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 "I am a German, Henri — I cannot help it; but 
 you are French. That man has the plans for the 
 grand offensive in his pocket — ^they will not believe 
 me. Don't let him escape! Shoot him — for the 
 sake of France!" 
 
 The young officer whipped out a revolver. There 
 was a deafening detonation in the room — ^the man 
 with the ruddy beard plunged face forward to the 
 floor. 
 
168 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Father I'* cried the young man, a poignant cry 
 of intolerable shame. 
 
 There was a second detonation. 
 
 The spy was led out over the dead body of his 
 son. 
 
 "Thank Godl" he murmured. 
 
VI 
 
 NACH VERDUN! 
 
 IN the long luxuriously furnished saloon car of the 
 special train an officer, clad in the field-service 
 uniform of a southeastern Power, sat in conversation 
 with a colonel of the German General Staff. The 
 deference shown to him made it immediately obvious 
 that he was a distinguished personage representing a 
 neutral whose friendliness was important. His dark, 
 clever eyes rested thoughtfully upon the groups of 
 officers with whom the car was overcrowded. All 
 round was a buzz of talk, of suppressed excitement. 
 The air was thick with cigar smoke. 
 
 "/^, Excellenz/' said the German colonel, pudgy 
 little fingers drumming the table between them; "the 
 secret is out. You have rightly guessed our ob- 
 jective." His eyes were those of a rather clumsy 
 and not too scrupulous diplomat. His smile was de- 
 liberate flattery. "Allow me to congratulate you 
 upon your good fortune. You will see the machinery 
 of our KriegsivirtschaftUchkeit (War Economy)" — 
 he throated the word impressively — "at the moment 
 when it works at its highest power to shape for Ger- 
 many her final victory." 
 
 159 
 
160 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The distinguished neutral smiled also, perfectly 
 courteous. He spoke with a faint Austrian accent. 
 
 "I can understand your desire for the finaV* — he 
 emphasised the word ever so lightly— "victory, Herr 
 Oherstr 
 
 The German stared at him, suspicious of the nim- 
 bler brain. 
 
 "Who would not desire it, Excellenz? This awful 
 
 slaughter '' He waved a deprecating hand. "It 
 
 is terrible that our adversaries do not recognise they 
 are already beaten." 
 
 The neutral nodded. "Bar-le-Duc and the Upper 
 Marne, I suppose — Paris!" 
 
 The German colonel's eyes went dead. 
 
 **Excellenz, I believe the supreme command re- 
 serves to itself the honour of enlightening you on its 
 plans." 
 
 The conversation languished. The train rolled 
 on, heavily comfortable. The staff officers talked 
 earnestly among themselves, the word Majestdt oft 
 repeated. Orderlies, garbed as soldiers, but obvi- 
 ously royal Kammerdiener, stole noiselessly in and 
 out of the car, went frequently into the car beyond. 
 On those occasions the distinguished neutral had a 
 glimpse of a world-familiar figure, upturned mous- 
 taches on a tired face, a uniform of grey hung with 
 many decorations. 
 
 The train rolled into a station, stopped. The 
 blare of a military band started on the precise in- 
 stant of its arrival. The platform was thronged 
 
NACH VERDUN! 161 
 
 with officers, bright with the red of the General 
 Statt. 
 
 The distinguished neutral took little interest in 
 the ceremony outside. He busied himself with col- 
 lecting the small articles of his kit. Through the 
 large windows he glimpsed the salutes of the rigidly- 
 erect officers. Above the noise of the band he heard 
 the repeated Hochf Hochf Hochf of soldiers, who 
 cheered as they drilled, exactly synchronous. 
 
 He stepped onto the platform, followed by the 
 colonel appointed to be his conductor. Majestdt 
 had already departed. Officers were thronging to 
 the exit, laughing and talking, much excited, reveal- 
 ing, despite the grey and red of the staff uniform, the 
 essential childishness of the crowd-mind. ^^Nach 
 VerdunF* said one of them, very close to the dis- 
 tinguished neutral, nudging another in the ribs. 
 ''Nach Verdunr 
 
 He repeated the just given watchword of victory 
 as a schoolboy repeats the latest smart expression. 
 The officers round him laughed. The crowd buzzed 
 with high spirits. 
 
 Outside the station the roadway was choked with 
 waiting motor cars, lined with soldiers readjusting 
 their helmets after tumultuous Hochsf Some cars — 
 those containing the highest personages — had al- 
 ready departed. One after another those remaining 
 were filled, swerved out and sped away. The dis- 
 tinguished neutral and his companion found a vehi- 
 cle reserved for them. The colonel led him to it 
 
162 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 with an air that suggested: '*See how the smallest 
 details are thought out !" They, too, sped away. 
 
 Behind the soldiers were a few listless French in- 
 habitants; from the windows of that French town 
 hung German flags; but no French faces looked out. 
 The shops were open, but their owners stood not at 
 the doors. The neutral noted these things. The 
 complete apathy of the population was in contrast 
 to stories his companion had related in the train. 
 In many of the side streets long convoys of ammu- 
 nition and ration wagons were halted to allow them 
 passage. On one of those foremost wagons was 
 scrawled in big chalk letters: Nach Verdun! 
 
 Nach Verdun! — ^that was the leitmotif underlying 
 all the intense military activity that filled the town 
 and, as they shot out beyond the houses, the coun- 
 tryside also. Every road was choked with columns 
 of marching infantry, with endless trains of wagons, 
 of limbers, of ambulances. Even cavalry was in evi- 
 dence, riding with tall lances and saddle-hung rifles 
 on wretched-looking horses. Nach Verdun! The 
 German colonel, though he warily gave no informa- 
 tion, could talk of nothing else. Under that grey 
 February sky pulsed and boomed the distant detona- 
 tions of artillery. The neutral listened to it with a 
 professional ear, was puzzled. It was persistent 
 enough, but it was certainly not the prolonged roar 
 of a preparatory bombardment. 
 
 The car swung into the drive of a park. A tun- 
 nel of winter-stripped trees, brown above, green 
 
NACH VERDUN! 163 
 
 streaking the bark, and then a large chateau drew 
 itself across the vista. Thither the other cars had 
 preceded them. They stood now, ranked in a mass. 
 There was a throng of officers round the great 
 doors, the buzz awakened by the recent passage of 
 the All-Highest. The neutral was shown to his 
 room, the German colonel volubly regretting that 
 exigencies of space forced him to share it. 
 
 Some hours later the neutral was ushered into a 
 vast lofty apartment whose tapestried walls were 
 almost completely rehung with the huge maps pinned 
 upon them. On easels stood other maps, strange 
 diagrams in curves and slants of red, green and 
 black ink. On a large table was a horizontal relief 
 model of hills and woods, a river with tributary 
 streams, a splash of red in the valley, thin lines of 
 red converging upon it, passing through, opening out 
 again. On all these maps, on the splash of red in 
 the relief model, the name Verdun was repeated 
 again and again. 
 
 All these things the neutral officer noticed with the 
 corner of his eye — the large writing tables behind 
 which sat officers of high rank, other officers grouped 
 in a corner. His direct gaze was held by the figure 
 he saluted. Spare, of medium height, in the grey 
 field-service uniform of a general, gold cord looping 
 across his right breast, a star upon the left above 
 collar, the would-be conqueror of the world stood 
 stiffly erect and graciously acknowledged his salute. 
 The brushed-up moustache was still dark, though 
 
164* ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the short hair on the head was grey — almost white. 
 The face was deeply furrowed with endless anxie- 
 ties; but the blue eyes — ^pouched though were their 
 underlids — gleamed with excitement. He spoke in 
 a jerky but distinct manner that betrayed a tempera- 
 ment of long ill-controlled impulses. 
 
 *'Guten Abend y Herr Generate/ Welcome to Ger- 
 many's greatest hour ! You shall see our sun mount 
 triumphantly to its zenith, breaking through the dark 
 clouds of foes who cluster over against us in vain 1" 
 The tone was that of a rhetoric practised until it has 
 become a habit. The right hand gesticulated with 
 quick motions; the left arm was conspicuously still. 
 "General" — he turned to one of the officers sitting 
 at the tables — "be so good as to explain everything 
 to our friend here." 
 
 It was to be clearly understood that the All-High- 
 est was flatteringly gracious. The neutral officer 
 bowed, expressed his thanks courteously, and ven- 
 tured a request : 
 
 "May I be allowed to admire your War Machine 
 in all its work, Majestdt — go where I will?" 
 
 "By all means, general. We have nothing to hide. 
 You will find much to interest you, much to relate to 
 our well-wishers in your country. General, see that 
 a pass is given to our friend that will give him the 
 fullest freedom." The All-Highest answered the 
 neutral's salute in a maner that terminated the con- 
 versation. 
 
 Seated at the huge carved writing table with the 
 
NACH VERDUN! 165 
 
 officer to whom he had been addressed, the neutral 
 found himself looking at a pair of keen grey eyes 
 that peered through pince-nez under bushy white 
 eyebrows. The German spread out maps, indicated 
 positions. He drew notice to the fact that all roads 
 squeezed through a bottle neck over the river at 
 Verdun, spread out In a fan on the east bank to a 
 long line of positions that climbed from the river 
 over the Heights of the Meuse, and fell into the 
 plain of the Woevre, across which they bent south- 
 ward. 
 
 **Die Sache ist duszerst einfachT* — "The thing is 
 absolutely simple!" — he said with the air of a man 
 explaining a chess problem. "The French have 
 three divisions of Territorials in front of us to hold 
 the entire sector. That force is not strong enough 
 to defend it, and certainly too weak to have kept the 
 trench systems in good repair ; in fact, we know that 
 they have been allowed to fall into ruin." — ^Vide Mr. 
 John Buchan's History of the War, Vol. XIII. — 
 "We have fifteen divisions in our front line, fifteen 
 divisions in reserve. We do not intend to fling those 
 divisions away. No. Step by step our artillery will 
 blast a passage for them — see, here are our artillery 
 positions." 
 
 He showed concentric lines, one within the other, 
 on the map, round the doomed sector. 
 
 "It is the greatest artillery concentration the world 
 has ever seen. Even our concentration on the Do- 
 najetz last year is surpassed. We shall obliterate 
 
166 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the positions In front of us — other batteries will 
 drench the only avenues of supplies with shells ; they 
 must all go through the town — our infantry will 
 merely march into the devastated position, wait for 
 the clearance of the next step. I may tell you that 
 the French have only one small branch railroad line 
 which is safe from our fire. We have built fourteen 
 new lines, besides those already existing. In the 
 great problem of supply we have an overwhelming 
 superiority. We believe we have the advantage of 
 surprise. Certainly the French have no concentra- 
 tion within easy reach. In four days we shall be 
 in Verdun. The Western Front will have been 
 broken.'* 
 
 *'In four days I" The neutral officer looked at the 
 map as a chess player looks at the board. "And — If 
 I might ask the question — suppose you do not take 
 Verdun in four days? There is said to be an enor- 
 mous Allied force somewhere In France." 
 
 "We have yet another day," said the German a 
 little wearily, as though resenting the effort to ex- 
 plain the unnecessary. "We have five clear days 
 before any re-enforcements can be brought up against 
 us — all the chances have been calculated, you see. If 
 we are not In Verdun by the evening of the fifth day 
 —well, the battle will continue. But I repeat, we 
 shall be in Verdun within four days. The thing is 
 certain 1" 
 
 "Of course it is, general," said another voice 
 above their heads. Both officers looked up, rose to 
 
NACH VERDUN! 167 
 
 their feet. "In four days we shall be in Verdun. 
 In a fortnight — Paris!" 
 
 The speaker was a youngish man with a long nose 
 in a long face, somewhat bald upon the brow, a 
 clipped moustache above a long, thin mouth. There 
 was something in his manner that suggested not too 
 reputable finance, doubled with Monte Carlo and the 
 coulisses. He repeated, smacking his hand famil- 
 iarly upon the back of the distinguished neutral : 
 
 "In a fortnight — Paris!" He named the famous 
 city with a smack of the lips. 
 
 "Undoubtedly, Highness," said the German gen- 
 eral, his professional manner replaced by the obse- 
 quiousness of the courtier. "The army led by Your 
 Highness cannot fail to conquer." 
 
 "Verdun — Paris I This time it will not fail, gen- 
 eral." He walked across the room, smacking a rid- 
 ing switch on his tall patent-leather hussar boots, and 
 chanting: *^Nach Verdun! Nach Verdun — Paris T 
 — Nach means "to, toward," and also "after" — 
 "To Verdun I After Verdun— Paris I" 
 
 The morning of the twenty-first of February, 
 19 1 6, opened damp and bleak. Over the heavy clay 
 fields of the Woevre plain the mist hung persistently, 
 inclosing all vision in a few hundred yards. Through 
 the obscurity the poplars lining the roads loomed up 
 like ghosts, dripping moisture from each bare twig. 
 In the copses and the larger stretch of woodland 
 known as the Foret de Spincourt the conglobulated 
 mist fell like rain. From each of the high knolls 
 
168 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 known as the Twins of Ornes, just southwest of the 
 Foret de Spincourt, the wooded slopes of the 
 Heights of the Meuse — Herbebois and the Bois de 
 Wavrille — rose dark and indefinite, discernible only 
 when a little puff of the raw east wind, coming up 
 the valley of the Orne, broke a rift in the fog. 
 
 The neutral and the German Oherst who was his 
 inseparable companion stood on the more southerly 
 of the twin heights. About them was a group of 
 artillery officers. In their immediate front was the 
 deep dugout, sod-roofed, where telephonists sat and 
 waited. It was an artillery observation post. The 
 light was yet dim, though the wet fog was white. 
 It had been quite dark when the two spectators had 
 made their way over roads deep in mud to this posi- 
 tion of vantage. 
 
 The journey had been long, for their car had to 
 squeeze, lurching and slithering, past endless col- 
 umns of infantry plodding over the atrocious roads. 
 In the darkness those thousands of men had been 
 scarcely more visible than phantoms, who sang con- 
 tinuously as they marched, chorusing to the tune set 
 by picked singers at the head of each company. 
 Those who were merely the chorus broke off fre- 
 quently to shout witticisms at the labouring motor 
 car. In high spirits they wagered that they would 
 be the first, after all, to arrive in Verdun. 
 
 On the hilltop of the Twin of Ornes, where the 
 officers clustered, was tense expectation. The fog 
 did not lift. Only at rare intervals was there a faint 
 
NACH VERDUN! 169 
 
 glimpse of the wooded heights toward which all 
 gazed with thrilling fore-knowledge. As yet all was 
 a quiet, broken only by an occasional isolated detona- 
 tion that rolled heavily down the Orne Valley. It 
 echoed In a dull repercussion from the mist-filled 
 woods upon the great scarp that was the far-flung 
 rampart of the doomed city. An officer looked at 
 his watch. The example was infectious. The min- 
 utes passed slowly. It was like waiting for the cur- 
 tain to go up. The watches marked 8:13 — German 
 time — 8:14 — 8:15 I 
 
 There was one simultaneous vast roar, which 
 leaped from an arc stretching from far In the north- 
 west and passing round behind them to the south. It 
 did not cease. Minute after minute It continued, 
 unabated, prolonged. In the first sudden shock it 
 appeared one colossal bellow of sound, evenly main- 
 tained. But as the ear became accustomed to It, In- 
 stinctively analysed It, It was possible to distinguish 
 spasms of even fiercer sound than the general welter 
 — the ponderous concussion of specially heavy ord- 
 nance; the frenzied hammering of the quick-firing 
 field guns. The sense of hearing was overwrought, 
 but the view changed not. The mist still hung over 
 the landscape, was a curtain before the straining eye. 
 Only down below them, on the right, a howitzer bat- 
 tery, adventurously pushed forward, rent the fog 
 with stabs of orange-red flame. 
 
 It seemed. In the overpowering blast of the Ger- 
 man guns, that the French artillery was making no 
 
170 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 general reply. From time to time a shell came whin- 
 ing over toward them, finished in an ugly rush and a 
 crash somewhere upon the knoll. They scarcely 
 noticed these occasional jinns of death, so ineffective 
 were they by contrast with the whirlwind of destruc- 
 tion that swept the other way. The habitual ear 
 could now pick out the rumbling tramcarlike prog- 
 ress of the heavy shells overhead, the fierce rushing 
 drone of the missiles from lighter guns, mingling 
 interwoven with the uninterrupted sheet of sound. 
 
 What was happening over there among the dank 
 wooded hills? Nothing could be seen; but the ex- 
 perienced imagination sketched, conscious that it fell 
 below the reality, fearful havoc distant in the fog. 
 Trees suddenly blasted, toppling; parapets leaping 
 into the air — horrors in the spout of earth that had 
 been a sheltered dugout; trenches whose walls fell 
 in; men who cowered, fear-paralysed, in a sham- 
 bles ; overhead a ceaseless cracking that rained down 
 death; shock upon shock; chaos — such flitted through 
 the minds of those who strained their eyes at the fog. 
 An artillery observation officer turned to the neutral. 
 
 ''Five hours of this, Excellenz/^ he said with a 
 smile — "and then the first step to Verdun I" 
 
 The Oherst expatiated on the wonderful German 
 system for supplying all these batteries indefinitely 
 at this intensity of fire. "Who can resist us?" was 
 the implied corollary to his dissertation. The neu- 
 tral was duly impressed, his dark clever eyes serious. 
 
 The bombardment continued, became monotonous. 
 
NACH VERDUN! 171 
 
 The fog thinned somewhat, but permitted no clear 
 vision. The batteries were firing by the map, ac- 
 cording to a prearranged programme. The Oherst 
 suggested to his distinguished guest that further stay 
 was useless. 
 
 "I should like to see your guns at work, Herr 
 Oherst,'* said the neutral, and the colonel saw him- 
 self forced to put aside his hopes of returning to 
 Corps Headquarters for Mittagsessen; he specu- 
 lated on the Divisional Messes in their vicinity as he 
 replied : 
 
 "By all means, Excellenz/' 
 
 They scrambled down the rough path of the 
 knoll, through a thin growth of birch, passed into 
 the denser mist below. 
 
 They found themselves suddenly among long ranks 
 of resting infantry squatting and lying in close prox- 
 imity to their piled arms. The feld-grau uniforms 
 merged, were lost in the fog; but there was an inde- 
 finable suggestion of the presence of many thousands. 
 The Oherst and his guest might walk where they 
 would — the shadowy grey forms still loomed up out 
 of the fog. All were cheerful and confident. The 
 ofllicers in little groups, smiling as they conversed, 
 bent over a map. The men were grinning. They 
 were waiting for the guns to level the path for their 
 promenade. 
 
 At last the ranks of infantry ceased. They came 
 upon a field battery that was firing furiously. The 
 guns were in the open, their upturned caissons — lid 
 
m ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 upright to form a shield, exposing the pigeonholed 
 bases of the cartridges — close against the left wheel. 
 Grouped behind each were the busy gunners, in rapid 
 movement of arms and torso, crouching, labouring 
 with swift concentrated intensity as they passed the 
 long gleaming projectile from hand to hand, thrust 
 it into the breech, closed and fired. Behind them 
 was a heap of brass cartridge cases, the flat com- 
 partmented baskets that had held three rounds. The 
 watching officers, helmeted, in long closely buttoned 
 coats, stood behind their sections. The battery 
 hurled out its stream of death in absolute immunity. 
 No enemy shell came to seek it. The fog veiled its 
 target. 
 
 Beyond that battery was another, in the open like 
 the first, almost wheel to wheel with it. And be- 
 yond that, another, and yet others — an endless chain 
 of them, all scorning concealment; all firing as fast 
 as sweating, straining men could load and pull the 
 lever. From behind came the prolonged, heavy, 
 linked detonations of yet other batteries of more 
 weighty metal. Overhead the rumble and rush of 
 hurrying shells was as the sound of heavy traffic. 
 
 The neutral and his guide turned eastward toward 
 the zone of the great howitzers. Once more they 
 were entangled in waiting masses of grey-clad in- 
 fantry. The mist had thinned, permitting quite long 
 vistas. Everywhere there was infantry, battalion 
 upon battalion, regiment on regiment, brigade after 
 brigade. The time had passed almost unnoticed — 
 
NACH VERDUN! 173 
 
 by the neutral at least — so much was there for his 
 brain to register; it was now almost noon. The 
 infantry was standing to its ranks, forming into 
 column of route, marching forward with songs and 
 shouts, their spiked helmets decorated with sprigs 
 of fir. ^^VorwdrtsP* came the sharp, barking com- 
 mands of the officers. **Nach VerdunF* shouted the 
 excited men, drunk with the prospect of superbly 
 easy victory. 
 
 And ever the indefatigable batteries hammered 
 and crashed, spewing forth death in volumes that the 
 men they served might live. From behind every 
 hedge, every hillock; in long lines across the open — 
 so many that they could afford to neglect the enemy*s 
 reply — their tongues of flame shot out, flickered in- 
 definitely repeated into the distance. Their infi- 
 nitely reiterated detonations smote splittingly upon 
 the ear, were gathered into one overpowering roar. 
 
 The dark mass of the Foret de Spincourt was 
 riven by red flame that lit and was gone momentarily 
 in every part of its recesses. As the two officers ap- 
 proached it they saw a faint film of smoke hanging 
 over the treetops, saw the quick flashes gleaming 
 through the undergrowth of the verge. They en- 
 tered its obscurity. The air choked one with the 
 fumes of burnt explosive, beat against the face in 
 gusts with the disturbance of the multiplied dis- 
 charges. The wood was a nest of howitzer bat- 
 teries. On platforms of concrete and timber the 
 monsters squatted, bowed their heads to receive 
 
174 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 yet another shell, raised them again with slow, de- 
 termined movement, the great round jaws gaping 
 upward to the sky; belched with a sudden eructation 
 of vivid flame, a tremendous shock of which the 
 stunning noise was only part. 
 
 The spectator behind the gun, looking upward, 
 saw a black object speeding high into the air, rap- 
 idly diminishing, the while a rain of twigs pattered 
 down upon his face. 
 
 As the barrel was lowered again, the breech 
 opened; slow curling tongues of flame licked round 
 the muzzle. Behind each weapon were great stacks 
 of shells. Hurrying men, two at a time, with a tray 
 supported on two short poles between them, carried 
 more food to the iron monster, fed its fuming breech 
 for yet another roar. 
 
 Farther within the wood were still greater mon- 
 sters, so huge that their aliment was trundled to 
 them on light rails, swung into their maws by over- 
 hanging cranes. The earth shook, the trees rocked 
 with the vehemence of their discharge. 
 
 *'Frau Bertha has a most persuasive voice — nicht 
 wahrf^ said the Oherst to his guest. 
 
 The neutral agreed as courteously as was possible 
 in this chaos of bludgeoning noise. His dark eyes 
 rested a little contemptuously on the dapper, some- 
 what pudgy colonel, whose soul, even in this crisis of 
 nations, was still essentially the soul of a commercial 
 traveller. The order to Krupps was not yet given. 
 
 It was one o'clock — ^noon to the anxious French 
 
NACH VERDUN! 175 
 
 general far over there in the terrible distance. As 
 suddenly as it had commenced, the vast bombardment 
 ceased. There was an uncanny silence. All knew 
 its significance. The German infantry was advanc- 
 ing to the assault. With what resistance would it 
 be met? Every ear was at strain — ^machine guns? 
 There was no sound. Suddenly the bombardment 
 opened again, as violent as before. The German 
 guns were putting a screen of death behind the 
 doomed positions, barring off all help. Far away 
 huge shells were crashing down from a curve that 
 was four miles high at its zenith, making an inferno 
 of a once quiet cathedral town, wrecking the bridges 
 across a flooded river, blocking every avenue of sup- 
 ply to the defenders agonising on the plateau. 
 
 That night in the Army Headquarters was a night 
 of jubilation. Courtier soldiers — who none the less 
 laboured into the small hours at the intricate calcu- 
 lations and orders that would improve the victory 
 on the morrow — glanced at a youngish, very exalted 
 personage, and murmured platitudes about the par- 
 donable intoxication of success. An even more ex- 
 alted personage strode from general to general in 
 the great tapestried, map-hung apartment, and gave 
 instructions that were received as the inspiration of 
 genius, and then merged, lost sight of, nullified in 
 the mass of orders that emanated from those fiercely 
 toiling brains. 
 
 The distinguished guest sat at the table with the 
 
176 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 keen-eyed, white-browed general, and had everything 
 patiently explained to him. 
 
 "All has gone exactly according to schedule," said 
 the German. "The first line positions are ours. 
 There has been a counterattack in the Bois de 
 Caures; but we have stemmed it. Elsewhere there 
 has been no serious opposition. The first day has 
 been a brilliant success. We have pierced the line 
 where we intended to pierce it. If the French main- 
 tain their flank positions their disaster is certain. 
 The battle will be developed to-morrow. We shall 
 drive right through to the Ornes-Louvemont road. 
 The French defence is dead; was annihilated by our 
 bombardment. To-morrow disintegration will set 
 in and our progress will be rapid. On the third day 
 we shall take Fort Douaumont — the key to Ver- 
 dun." 
 
 "And on the fourth day?" queried the neutral, his 
 dark eyes gazing at the map in front of him. 
 
 "We shall be in Verdun!" said the German. 
 
 ** Verdun! Verdun! Nach Verdun — Paris!** 
 chanted an unsteady voice across the room, and fin- 
 ished in a suspicious resemblance to a hiccup. 
 
 There was a moment of tense, awkward silence 
 in the great apartment, and then a buzz of low voices 
 earnestly discussing technicalities. 
 
 Day followed day, surcharged with fateful issues. 
 Men who flung themselves down, utterly wearied, to 
 snatch a brief sleep, woke from it with an oppression 
 of the breast, a tremor of the nerves. Their fiercely 
 
NACH VERDUN! 177 
 
 excited brains begrudged an instant's unconsciousness 
 where every minute was a vehicle of destiny — once 
 ahead, never to be overtaken. Strenuously, night 
 and day, laboured the staffs in the Army Headquar- 
 ters, in the corps, divisions, artillery groups — des- 
 perately; for after the second day they were behind 
 their time-table. 
 
 On that second day the French defence they had 
 fondly thought annihilated woke to sternly resisting 
 life. There had been terrific fighting on the whole 
 front from Brabant to Ornes. Once more a fright- 
 ful bombardment had opened with the dawn. Once 
 more the German infantry had advanced in masses. 
 They found the trenches in front of them weakly 
 held; had occupied them. But en route a storm of 
 shells had rained down on the swarming columns, 
 had strewn the ground with dead and dying. Far- 
 ther advance was barred by sheets of rifle fire, tor- 
 rents of machine-gun bullets. There were ugly ru- 
 mours as to losses. The day's objective had not 
 been reached. Counterattacks had flung the grey 
 infantry out of positions already conquered. 
 
 During the black night between the twenty-second 
 and twenty-third, while the gun teams of the Ger- 
 man batteries strained and stumbled forward over 
 shell-torn ground to new positions, the French left 
 flank had fallen back from Brabant. The German 
 guns hurled an avalanche of projectiles blindly upon 
 the new lines of defence, more or less at hazard, 
 since no longer did they have them accurately 
 
178 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 marked upon the map. Once more the grey masses 
 swept forward; once more the hail of shells beat 
 them down. The end of that day saw the centre 
 pushed in with wild confusion; but the French re- 
 sistance, still alive, determined to perish rather than 
 break. Once more the objective had not been at- 
 tained. Douaumont was not even menaced. The 
 time-table was hopelessly out. That night the French 
 fell back on both flanks and withdrew from Ornes. 
 
 The fourth day dawned — the appointed day for 
 final victory — and still the struggle continued, 
 fiercer than ever. Slowly, slowly the German infan- 
 try pressed forward, leaving behind them a sea of 
 helpless bodies — a grey carpet as perceived from a 
 distance. The artillery fire swelled and mounted in 
 paroxysms of incredible violence, the German guns 
 hammering in savage persistence; the French bat- 
 teries, lurking for their target, overwhelming it in 
 a deluge. 
 
 On and on pressed the grey infantry, thrust dan- 
 gerously, as night fell, straight at the heart, toward 
 Fort Douaumont. A fierce conflict — body to body, 
 rifles that flashed in the face of the victim, 
 bayonets perforce shortened for the thrust, gripping 
 fingers clutching at the throat as men wrestled and 
 swayed — roared in an indescribable tumult upon the 
 Ornes-Louvemont road. 
 
 The defenders had made a supreme rally. The 
 Germans fought like men who grasp at victory, mad- 
 dened that it is withheld. The French fought like 
 
NACH VERDUN! 179 
 
 heroes, desperately outnumbered, who know their 
 duty is to die. When night fell the defence was still 
 intact; but the French had withdrawn to their last 
 line, covering Douaumont. 
 
 "We still have one more day," said the German 
 general to the distinguished neutral that night in the 
 great map-hung apartment. "We allowed that mar- 
 gin of time. To-morrow will see our greatest ef- 
 fort, Douaumont in our hands, Verdun untenable.'* 
 
 The dark eyes of the neutral read a certain nerv- 
 ousness in the German's face, despite the confident 
 tone. 
 
 "It has proved rather more difficult than you ex- 
 pected?" 
 
 "The French field guns have been terrible — ^ter- 
 rible!" replied the German. "Without them " 
 
 He waved an expressive hand. "But to-morrow we' 
 shall deliver the coup de gfdce. We have not 
 boasted idly, Excellenz/* His eyes looked search- 
 ingly through their pince-nez at the calmly interested 
 face of the neutral. "When Germany threatens she 
 performs." 
 
 On the morning of the twenty-fifth the German 
 guns roared over white fields of snow, through veils 
 of the softly falling flakes that fluttered inexhausti- 
 bly from the leaden sky. Their thunder swelled 
 louder and ever louder as the batteries, which had 
 changed position consequently upon the French with- 
 drawal during the night, got to work, searching for 
 
180 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 their target, more or less accurately finding it, de- 
 spite the difficulty of observation. 
 
 Not a minute was to be lost. The anxious Ger- 
 man Staff knew that the re-enforcements of their foes 
 must be hurrying — hurrying. Some perhaps had 
 already arrived. If night fell without definite vic- 
 tory the morrow would surely see fresh masses 
 against them, reinvigorating the defence. Victory 
 to-day — complete victory — Douaumont captured, the 
 pursuit pressed into the streets of Verdun — meant 
 victory indeed. 
 
 Mighty, therefore, was the effort. By noon every 
 German battery was firing at its maximum. Under 
 the leaden sky, over the white ground, in the still 
 cold of a bitter frost, their thunder swelled and 
 crashed, roaring in a never-ending frenzy. Eighteen 
 German divisions were massed to break down all op- 
 position. Already they had attacked — again and 
 again. Again and again the rapid detonations of 
 the French guns had leaped into the din, smiting 
 desperately, frantically, to stay them. Over there, 
 in the mist-hung gullies of the plateau, on its bare 
 open spaces between the woods, the snow had ceased 
 to be white — save where it fell freshly upon the 
 huddled bodies of the fallen. 
 
 In the afternoon the weather cleared somewhat. 
 More distant views were possible. On the higher 
 of the Twins of Ornes, the knolls just southwest of 
 the Foret de Spincourt, stood the figure who, more 
 than any other individual, would have to dare the 
 
NACH VERDUN! 181 
 
 answer for all the agony rolled out there before 
 him; for all the agony that no eye could measure, 
 spread over continents, crying to strange stars. 
 
 Spiked helmet on his head, a long grey cavalry 
 cloak wrapped about him, his field glasses held to his 
 eyes by the right hand only, he gazed upon the now 
 distant conflict. At his side stood a younger figure, 
 his face masked also by a binocular. Behind them 
 were a group of dignitaries, generals of high posi- 
 tion, the distinguished neutral and the Oberst who 
 never quitted him. All gazed on the scarp of the 
 Heights of the Meuse, their glasses pointing south- 
 south-west. 
 
 The great masses of woodland rose dark from the 
 snow of the plain, a long stretch of undulating climb- 
 ing treetops. Beyond them the bare bulk of the 
 plateau humped itself yet higher, dirty grey against 
 the sky. It rose to a culminating knoll — Douau- 
 mont I All that bare plateau was whelmed in a drift- 
 ing reek ; but the highest point was like a volcano in^ 
 eruption. Great founts of smoke shot up from it 
 incessantly, spread in the air in heavy plumes that 
 overhung. 
 
 It was the objective of the Third Corps — Bran- 
 denburgers — attacking under the eye of the Kaiser, 
 so particularly their chief. Their orders were that 
 Douaumont was to be taken at all costs. On the 
 Twin of Ornes operators from army headquarters 
 had taken over the telephone dugout. Behind them 
 the line was clear to Berlin — waiting — waiting for 
 
182 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the triumphant announcement that should thrill the 
 world. ' 
 
 Somewhat impatiently the neutral scanned the 
 lofty distances where the great drama was being 
 enacted. Innumerable puffs of bursting shells indi- 
 cated the conflict, but gave no hint of its varying 
 fortunes. The professional instinct was strong 
 within him; the report to his government an ideal 
 to which it strove. To perfect that report he must 
 see the fight at closer quarters; must describe the 
 effects of the French fire as a complement to the 
 already written minute on the German batteries. 
 
 His keen eye picked out a position of vantage on 
 the Heights. Then he waited for an opportunity, 
 alert for the moment when the eye of Majesty 
 should rest itself from the distant view, and should 
 fall upon him. The opportunity occurred. The 
 glance of the All-Highest swept over him, preoccu- 
 pied. The neutral stepped forward, saluted, and 
 indicated the far-off point. 
 
 '*Ich hitte urn Erlauhnis, Majestdf* — "I beg per- 
 mission, Your Majesty" — he said. 
 
 A frowning glance rested upon him for an in- 
 stant, intolerant of aught save the mighty contest 
 whose issue was the fate of nations. 
 
 ''G^if^r/^^'— "Granted" — was the curt, indiffer- 
 ent reply. 
 
 The German Oberst, standing behind the neutral, 
 changed colour. He had no option but to accom- 
 pany this damnable foreigner in his mad adventure 
 
NACH VERDUN t 183 
 
 into unnecessary danger. He, too, saluted Majestdt 
 and followed the neutral to the spot where a number 
 of orderlies stood at the heads of saddled horses. 
 They had been sent forward in case the dignitaries 
 should require them. 
 
 In a few moments the two officers, followed by 
 mounted attendants, were slithering down the snowy 
 side of the knoll, were cantering across the valley 
 toward Ornes. 
 
 High above them towered the dark Bois de la 
 Chaume as they threaded the debris-covered street 
 of the wrecked village. It was packed with Bran- 
 denburger infantry waiting to advance. They fol- 
 lowed the road southward, at the foot of the hills, 
 toward Bezonvaux. Everywhere the infantry stood 
 thick, waiting. The cannonade mounted to a fright- 
 ful intensity, appalling even the ears now habituated 
 to it, bewildering the senses, troubling the sight. 
 
 French shells came whining, screaming, rushing, 
 to burst with loud crashes in the woodland rising on 
 their right hand, on the road and in the fields through 
 which the infantry passed. Domes of dark smoke 
 leaped upward from the earth, preceding the stun- 
 ning, metallic detonation. White shrapnel puffs clus- 
 tered thickly above the trees. 
 
 Bezonvaux was a ruin. They turned off from it 
 to the right, up a rough track that climbed into the 
 woods. The snow on the track had been trampled 
 into a dirty slush. All about them lay bodies, grey 
 and blue ; weapons pell-mell as they had fallen from 
 
184 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 suddenly opened grasps. Their horses shuddered, 
 whinnied, jerked nervous ears, moved disconcert- 
 ingly sidewise from red stains soaking deep into the 
 snow. 
 
 Just under the edge of the plateau the neutral 
 stopped, dismounted, threw his reins to an orderly. 
 The Oherst followed his example. His face was 
 blotchy white; he trembled in every limb. 
 
 "We shall see nothing, Excellenz — absolutely 
 nothing," he asseverated appealingly. 
 
 "We can at least try," replied his guest. "Some- 
 thing is happening over there." 
 
 Above them, some distance ahead, was a tremen- 
 dous uproar, a chaos of violent thudding slams, split- 
 ting crashes, a faint troublous murmur of human 
 voices. Behind them, up the rough track, a column 
 of infantry was advancing, overtaking them. They 
 ascended with a steady progress, splashing through 
 the slush; officers waving swords, shouting; rank 
 upon rank of tense faces that had lost their human- 
 ity in the tremulous brute ; glazed staring eyes under 
 the spiked helmets; singing, singing like drugged 
 doomed gladiators marching to the arena. They 
 passed upward. 
 
 The neutral, to whom his conductor had nerve- 
 lessly surrendered the initiative, led the way. They 
 left their horses behind them, struck off at a tangent 
 on the right, through the woods, climbing always. 
 They emerged upon the plateau, in a clearing. 
 Across the open space, from a whelm of smoke and 
 
NACH VERDUN! 185 
 
 noise in the distance, groups of grey men were run- 
 ning swiftly toward them, shouting inarticulately. 
 Along the edge of the woods was a line of pickets. 
 Their weapons rose to the shoulder. Sternly every 
 fugitive but those wounded was driven again into the 
 fight. Those who hesitated, screaming under the 
 menace of the rifle, dropped, shot. 
 
 The neutral hurried along the verge of the wood, 
 scanning every tall tree carefully, expectantly. **Ah !'' 
 He had found what he sought. Against the green 
 bark of a lofty beech dangled a rope ladder. It was 
 an abandoned French artillery observation post. He 
 scrambled up the ladder, followed by the trembling, 
 shivering Oherst. High up among the topmost 
 branches was a little platform. 
 
 The neutral settled himself, adjusted his binocu- 
 lar, pushed aside the twigs. He looked out over an 
 undulating terrain, dark with woods that ceased rag- 
 gedly in deep indentations short of a bare hogback 
 which gathered itself into a hump. That bare 
 ground was smothered in a turmoil of smoke that 
 fumed to the grey sky, far to right and left. But 
 through it, in chance rifts, his glasses revealed a 
 dark mass upon the highest point. A reek of white 
 smoke drifted away from it, as from burning build- 
 ings, mingling with the darker clouds of incessant 
 explosions. He had a glimpse of a rounded cupola. 
 It was DouaumontI 
 
 The snow on the open space between the fort and 
 the woods was grey. It was moving with crawling 
 
186 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 life, like the festering of a stagnant pool. Over it 
 burst occasional puffs of shrapnel. 
 
 "Ah I" The cry was involuntary from both the 
 watching men. 
 
 From the woods emerged masses of running tiny 
 grey figures — running, running toward the fort. The 
 open space was covered with them. A moment of 
 tense expectation, when the heart seemed to stop — 
 and then, as by a terrible magic, great fountains of 
 dark smoke and darker objects leaped up among 
 those running figures; countless explosions. 
 
 A canopy of vicious little shrapnel bursts in thou- 
 sands spread itself over them. Under it men 
 sprawled in great patches, seemed to be fighting the 
 air ere they tumbled and fell. A horrid screaming 
 came faint through the uproar. More masses rushed 
 out, were beaten down. There was a running to 
 and fro of men bewildered — a headlong flight. 
 
 The storm of fire did not cease. It rolled over the 
 plateau toward the woods, remorselessly following 
 the fugitives. Louder and louder, nearer and nearer, 
 the crashes, the fountains, the puffs — the great min- 
 gled reek of the inferno — rolled toward the two men 
 in the observation post. The Oberst clutched the 
 neutral's arm. 
 
 *'Excellenzf" he shouted stammeringly. "We 
 must go I I insist I I have superior authority — writ- 
 ten authority — my discretion — I insist!" he almost 
 screamed. His hand groped for a scrap of paper, 
 
NACH VERDUN! 187 
 
 which he waved. "Arrest!*' he cried like a maniac. 
 "Arrest if you do not come I" 
 
 The storm of French shells was a very near men- 
 ace. The neutral acquiesced with a shrug of his 
 shoulders. Nimbly they descended the ladder. 
 
 On the ground they found themselves among a 
 swarm of slightly wounded, terror-stricken men. 
 One of them, a tall, bearded Brandenburger, his 
 clothes torn to rags, was shrieking and laughing in a 
 manner horrible to hear. His comrades drew away 
 from him as he clutched at them. He was insane. 
 
 "Only I am left!'* he cried. "Only I! They are 
 all dead — dead — out there. They were meant to 
 be dead. They were dead men before we attacked — 
 all dead men, running on ; I could see it in their faces 
 — only I was alive ! And now they are still crawling 
 — crawling — dead men!" His tone emphasised the 
 horror of his words, struck a chill. A sentry low- 
 ered his rifle irresolutely. 
 
 The maniac turned, waved a hand to the west- 
 ward. The sun, on the point of setting, showed it- 
 self in a rift of the threatening snowclouds ; sank, a 
 great ball of glowing fire, over the rim of the 
 plateau. Its last rays were lurid on the face of the 
 madman as he stood, arms outstretched, his eyes 
 flaming, his tangled beard falling upon his rags, like 
 some antique prophet of the wilderness. 
 
 "Woel Woe I" he shrieked. ''Nach Verdun! 
 Nach Ferdun — Ferdunkelun^r — *To Verdun! 
 After Verdun — Eclipse." He finished in a scream of 
 
188 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 maniac laughter, glorying in the crazy assonance of 
 the words. **Nach Verdun — Verdunkelungr* 
 
 The neutral and the Oherst hurried through the 
 woods to their horses. 
 
 A rapid ride, with the German always in front, 
 and once more they ascended the Twin of Ornes. 
 As they arrived at the summit they found themselves 
 among wildly cheering men. 
 
 *'Douaumont ! Douaumont is taken !" 
 
 Far away to the south-southwest rocket after 
 rocket shot up into the darkening sky. Already the 
 great news had gone — electrically — to Berlin. 
 
 The crowd of dignitaries descended the steep path 
 in the gloom to where the motor cars were ranked in 
 waiting. Along the road passed streams of wounded 
 who could walk, phantoms half distinguished in the 
 dim light. Joyous were the voices of the War Lords. 
 One, in a familiar tone, chanted : 
 
 ''Nach Verdun! Nach Verdun — Paris T 
 
 Out of the darkness came a screamed reply, a 
 burst of insane laughter: 
 
 *'Nach Verdun — Verdunkelung! Nach Verdun — 
 V erdunkelung !'* 
 
 It was the voice of the crazed Brandenburger. 
 There was a scuffle — ^the sound of a man hurried 
 away, resisting. 
 
 All through that dark journey, as the car bumped 
 and lurched over the atrocious roads the words beat 
 in a refrain through the mind of the neutral. *'Nach 
 Verdun — Verdunkelung!'* He wondered. Eclipse? 
 
NACH VERDUN! 189 
 
 Was it the sun of Germany that set on the French 
 position? The Oherst was loquaciously cheerful. 
 
 That night, in the great map-hung apartment, the 
 iWar Lords received the news that their farther ad- 
 vance was barred. 
 
 Next morning a furious counterattack surrounded 
 a handful of defenders in the fort for which they 
 had paid so much. The French reenforcements had 
 arrived. 
 
VII 
 
 THE CONQUERORS 
 
 PARIS I Paris Is taken I 
 The crowd of citizens lining the pavement 
 of the main street of the little German town turned 
 with a buzz of excited voices to the bareheaded 
 shopkeeper who had just dashed out with the news. 
 A babel of questions arose, conflicting ejaculations, 
 women's tones shrill above the masculine bass. 
 
 'Wtef Is It official?" "Are the papers in?" 
 **Ach, kolossal — kolossalF' "Six weeks! Russia, 
 England, Belgium and France defeated! Brussels 
 taken, and now Paris!" "Where did you hear it?" 
 
 "The Justlzrat Kramer's servant has just told 
 me!" answered the shopkeeper, full of Importance 
 as he looked round the ring of eager faces which 
 surrounded him. "He should know, for his son is 
 with the Kronprlnz's army — doubtless he has had a 
 letter." The shopkeeper was a member of the town 
 council and phrased his thoughts with some preten- 
 sions as a public speaker. "These doctors find many 
 ways of sending back news. Ach, Gott sei Dank 
 that I persuaded them to keep the flags out!" 
 
 "The Justlzrat Kramer! There he is, docht 
 190 
 
THE CONQUERORS 191 
 
 With Herr Hartmann and Fraulein Minna. Ask 
 him if the news is true, some one!'* 
 
 The group turned their heads to where, just be- 
 hind the rank of people lining the curb, a tall, intel- 
 lectual-looking old man in a tight-fitting frock coat 
 and silk hat stood in conversation with a well- 
 dressed and handsome young woman. There was 
 an aloofness, an austerity in his manner — an 
 obvious disdain for the crowd — ^that held in 
 respect those eagerly curious citizens who now 
 stood contemplating him. The Justizrat Kramer 
 was more than the chief local lawyer: he was the 
 oracle, the intellectual aristocrat of the town. His 
 dry tone, his contemptuously critical eye, were ter- 
 rors the average citizen stood in awe of. 
 
 "Better not I" said one, who for an instant had 
 betrayed an irresolution by which his companions 
 had endeavoured to profit. "Not now. The Herr 
 Justizrat is telling the events to his son's betrothed. 
 It would not be polite to interrupt him. Besides, the 
 morning paper will be in presently." 
 
 "Paris taken!" cried another. "Then perhaps 
 the Reserve Battalion will not march off after all, 
 this morning I The war is over I" 
 
 ^ **Doch nichtf* replied the man at his elbow sen- 
 tentiously. "We have still to capture London!" 
 
 "How long? Two months I The end of the 
 year? 19 15, perhaps 1" 
 
 '^Jch, neinl So long as 1915 can it not last I" 
 
192 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 said a woman. "Our husbands and sons will all be 
 killed I" 
 
 "The losses are frightful," agreed another. "So 
 they say. Twenty at least of the town will never 
 come back. Nein, so long can it not last !" 
 
 "Look I" cried a voice. "Here come the Polizei! 
 The battalion is starting." 
 
 From both sides of the street, which, clear of 
 traffic, stretched under its decoration of flags and 
 evergreens from the squat, antiquated fort on the 
 elevation at one end of it to the tall, smokeless chim- 
 neys of the Hartmanns-Fabrik which closed the view 
 at the other, long lines of eager faces craned out to 
 watch the group of mounted policemen trotting down 
 toward the railway station. 
 
 "The prisoners will be coming through, at any 
 rate I" said a man, shading his eyes from the mid- 
 September sun as he peered down the thoroughfare 
 after the clattering patrol. "Cursed Frenchmen I 
 The faces they'll make when we shout the news at 
 them!" 
 
 **Jawohl! The camp is all ready for them — 
 plenty of barbed wire, but not much else!" said an- 
 other with a laugh. "Their train must be almost 
 due — ^yes, look, there is the Herr Major von Top- 
 litz, the new commandant of the fort who will be in 
 charge of them I Talking to the Herr Justizrat 
 there I He is evidently going down to the station to 
 meet the prisoners." 
 
 The crowd turned once more in the direction of 
 
THE CONQUERORS 193 
 
 the Justizrat. The little group had now been 
 joined by an elderly officer, spruce in a new field- 
 grey uniform, sword dangling. He was screwing 
 his monocle into his eye and smiling under his white 
 moustache while he exchanged a remark with the 
 rotund proprietor of the factory at the end of the 
 street, and his handsome daughter. It was evident 
 from the stiff precision of his gestures that he had 
 just been introduced. 
 
 From somewhere in the direction of the squat 
 brown fort came the faint notes of a distant mili- 
 tary band. A stir ran through the people, who were 
 now repeating to each other all along the street: 
 "Paris taken I Paris is taken!" as they closed up 
 more densely to the curb to get a better view. 
 
 A narrow-browed, full-faced, corpulent little 
 tradesman, apron about his waist, spectacles on his 
 nose, stepped out into the empty street and gazed 
 myopically at the vista of flags which transformed 
 its familiar drab dulness into an avenue of triumph. 
 
 '"5 ist dock schdnf* he repeated to himself. In 
 his tone was the naive awe of a Sancho Panza con- 
 templating in his secret moments his incredible splen- 
 dour. *'Ach, we Germans!" 
 
 He dodged back with a cry of alarm as a mounted 
 policeman, disdaining to swerve his horse, nearly 
 rode him down. 
 
 A little farther down the street Major von Top- 
 litz was still in conversation with the little group. 
 He was discussing strategy with the Justizrat, and 
 
194 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the deep blue eyes of the girl were fixed attentively 
 on the two men, colour high on the cheeks under her 
 massed fair hair. 
 
 *^Ja, Herr Kramer! So we made war in Seventy 
 with the Archduke Charles; so now — time-table!" 
 He spoke in a clipped military fashion which ac- 
 corded well with the fragmentary nature of his men- 
 tal processes. "To-day — hurl ourselves across the 
 frontier; to-morrow — ^take Brussels; day after — 
 Verdun; day after that — Paris! Date for Paris se- 
 cret — can't tell you — in time-table — ^punctually to the 
 hour — march down Champs Elysees. Tell you this, 
 lieher Herr: our Kaiser has left Berlin — triumphal 
 entry!" 
 
 At that moment the rotund little factory-proprie- 
 tor caught the rumour being passed from mouth to 
 mouth among the crowd. He questioned the near- 
 est man, shouted an inarticulate cry. 
 
 "Paris!" he yelled, waving his hat. "Paris is 
 taken!" 
 
 "5o/' observed the Major, drawing himself up 
 with dignity. "What did I tell you, Herr Justizrat? 
 Ach, those cursed Social Democrats! See, there is 
 some use in our German army, after all — ntcht wahr, 
 Herr Hartmannf No more trouble in your fac- 
 tory! Brussels — Paris! Moment of time-table!" 
 He twisted his white moustache with a fatuous com- 
 placency, his bleary old eyes looking as fierce as he 
 could make them, self-consciously personifying the 
 victorious German army. 
 
THE CONQUERORS 195 
 
 "It may well be so," said the Justizrat. "I had a 
 letter from Otto this morning. He expected to be 
 in Paris in two days. What a victory! What a 
 victory!" His keen old face was lighted up as by 
 a personal triumph. "My friends, this is the mo- 
 ment for which I have longed all my life, the mo- 
 ment for which I have worked — I also, Herr Ma- 
 jor" (the lawyer had received his distinction of 
 "Rat" in recognition of some Pan-German pamphlets 
 he had written), "inculcating our German virtues, 
 preaching our right to a place in the sun! This is 
 *the great time,' the time when our German Kultur 
 triumphantly reveals its superiority in the capitals 
 of the effete civilisation we shall replace ! Brussels ! 
 Paris! London next!" 
 
 "You must write to Otto, Minna," said the fac- 
 tory-proprietor pompously to his daughter, "and tell 
 him how proud you are of him." 
 
 "Proud?" said the girl, a sudden, not-to-be- 
 repressed bitterness in her tone. She flushed at its 
 escape. ^'He is not fighting ! He is just a doctor — 
 he does not thrill with glory at our victories. He 
 thinks only of new scientific ways to bind up wounds. 
 His letters are full of it." She hesitated, her bosom 
 heaving; then in a flash of vicious contempt, she 
 added: "I have written to ask him how many 
 Frenchmen he has killed!" 
 
 The three men stared at her, startled by this out- 
 burst. 
 
 "Minna!" cried her father, glancing nervously at 
 
196 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the Justizrat. Otto Kramer was a good match — 
 one who would help the frequently perilous fortunes 
 of the Hartmanns-Fabrik. "But you love Otto! 
 You know it well — ^you know it well!" The eyes in 
 the little rotund face were wide with anxiety. "Did 
 you not cry all night when he went away?" Noth- 
 ing was sacred to Herr Hartmann when his mate- 
 rial interests were at stake. 
 
 The girl flushed up again at a snicker in the crowd 
 behind her. 
 
 "It is because — ^because Otto is to be my husband 
 that I feel ashamed, bitterly ashamed, he is not a 
 
 soldier. My — my husband Oh," she broke 
 
 off, "when I used to listen to you talking of the com- 
 ing war, Father-in-law, I used to think of Otto — I 
 used to see him with a shining sword, conquering 
 the enemies of our Fatherland — winning the victory 
 — alone, almost — coming back decorated, a hero, 
 famous. And now, in this great time, when all the 
 world is winning glory, when every one is talking 
 of the bravery of their sons and husbands, he — 
 he " She stopped, very near tears. Then draw- 
 ing herself up with a deep breath, her eyes flashing 
 through their moisture, she cried: "Oh, if only I 
 were a man I" Her hand seemed to clutch a weapon. 
 
 The Justizrat sprang forward : his old ascetic face 
 lighted up, and he laid his bony hand upon her 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Ah, there speaks the true German woman!" he 
 cried. "The woman of Tacitus — of the Niebelun- 
 
THE CONQUERORS 19T 
 
 genlied I The wife and mother of heroes I You are 
 right, Minna, our Kultur can only grow from seed 
 sown among the ruins. The duty of a German to- 
 day is to inflict wounds — not to heal them I Ach! 
 Hartmann," — he turned to the vulgar little manu- 
 facturer, — "what a grandson I shall havel" 
 
 Hartmann grinned — relieved that there was no 
 hint of breaking the marriage. 
 
 At that moment an irruption of little boys, bun- 
 dles of newspapers in their arms, shouting inarticu- 
 lately at the top of their voices, dashed along the 
 pavement behind the backs of the crowd. Where 
 they passed, a sudden turmoil, papers waved on high, 
 fresh cries. The Major snatched a copy from an 
 urchin who continued to yell with all his lungs while 
 he waited for the nickel. 
 
 ^'SiegT cried the Major, glancing at the fat 
 Gothic headlines. "Yet another victory I Sieg! 
 Siegr 
 
 "Where is it?'* shouted the Justizrat, above the 
 clamour of voices which arose all around them. 
 "France? Paris?" He grabbed at a paper for him- 
 self. "Ah— Russia!" He scanned the thickened 
 type of the communique. "Not a word about France 
 — the communique is late, is dated the 9th of Sep- 
 tember — to-day is the i ith. They are waiting to be 
 able to announce the final victory." 
 
 The yelling newspaper-boys pushed their ways 
 through the throng. In the midst of the uproar came 
 the blare and thud of a military band approaching 
 
198 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 from the direction of the fort. The crashing rhythm 
 ^f a lively tune mingled with the excited shouts of 
 the crowd. 
 
 *The battalion!" cried the Major. "Must go — 
 railway-station — see them off — ^prisoners arriving 
 too. Wounded — don*t know what I shall do with 
 them — no doctors. Come to supper at the fort to- 
 night — bring your wives. You'll come, Herr 
 Kramer? You, Herr Hartmann? Bring the Frau- 
 lein — celebrate the victory, ha I Good-bye — auf WiC' 
 derseh^nr He saluted the young woman with a 
 click of heels and strode off through the crowd, 
 which made way for him respectfully. 
 
 The blare of the band Increased. They could dis- 
 tinguish the tune — ^^Ptippchen, du hist mein Augen- 
 
 schatz! Piippchen, du hist '' A roar of cheers 
 
 drowned it. The spectators crowded up to the edge 
 of the pavement, craned their necks to see into the 
 still empty street. They could hear the voices of the 
 soldiers singing as they marched toward them. 
 
 The band ceased for a moment; then as its lead- 
 ing ranks passed with a tap of drum, a dazzle of 
 brass Instruments In the sunshine, it burst out into 
 the stirring strains which all Germany had been 
 shouting for the past six weeks : 
 
 Deutschland, Deutschland iiber A lies — iiber A lies in der 
 
 Welt! 
 Wenn es stets zu Schutz und Trutze briiderlich zusammen- 
 
 halt. 
 
THE CONQUERORS 199 
 
 Fon der Maas bis on die Memel, von der Etsch bis on den 
 
 Belt 
 Deutschland, Deutschland iiber A lies — iiber A lies in der 
 
 Welti 
 
 They passed, rank after rank in their field-grey 
 uniforms, flowers in the muzzles of their rifles at 
 the slope, flowers wreathed about their spiked hel- 
 mets, flowers flung into the air about them, falling 
 like rain. They passed, sturdy German figures, pack 
 high on the back, singing as with an antique religious 
 fervour exactly in time and tune, their faces red with 
 pride and pleasure, faces of ploughmen, of factory- 
 hands, of clerks, of petty tradesmen, of all the drudg- 
 ing occupations that had ceased, their paltry civilisa- 
 tion forgotten, their eyes bright in a triumph of 
 primitive instincts sanctified by the clamour of the 
 crowd. They passed, yesterday the drab workers 
 of a narrow horizon, to-day the panoplied foemen — 
 spectacles from the unremembered desk still on the 
 eyes that would so soon gaze at Death in a strange 
 landscape. 
 
 They passed, imposing in their ordered strength, 
 and with them passed the wild romance of war, the 
 romance of lives at plenitude that have no sure con- 
 tinuance. They passed endlessly, rank after rank 
 of faces that lost their individuality in one common 
 flushed brutishness where thought was quelled, flow- 
 er-crowned, purposeful, like the exodus of Gothic 
 warriors setting out amid tribal cries to the sack of 
 a doomed epoch. 
 
200 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The splendid choral, rhythmic to the tramp, 
 roared up from the dense ranks streaming under the 
 festooned flags that seemed to flutter in the waves 
 of sound. *'Deutschlandy Deutschland uber Alles — 
 iiher Alles in der WeltF' The crowd caught it up, 
 roared it back at them : ** Deutschland, Deutschland 
 uber Alles r^ mingled with shouts of uncontrollable 
 enthusiasm, the certainty of victory, shrill female 
 voices high above the rest. 
 
 ^^Hochl hochf Hurra/ Sieg! Sieg! Paris! Paris 
 genommen! Noch ein Sieg! Hurra!^^ And then 
 again the dominating melody of the intoxicating 
 chant, swallowing up all other sounds: 
 
 Deutschland, Deutschland Uber Alles — iiber Alles in der 
 Welt! 
 
 The girl stood gazing at the steadily flowing 
 ranks, at the endlessly passing soldier-faces, so mas- 
 culine, so indescribably thrilling under their spiked 
 helmets. Voicelessly she followed the lilt and beat, 
 the uplifting surge of the battle-song of her race; 
 voicelessly, but with parted lips, she echoed the fare- 
 well cries, the shouts of triumph, the roar of cheers 
 on cheers with which her countrymen sped their 
 heroes on to certain conquest. She stood fixed, 
 oddly chilled, tears springing to her eyes in the in- 
 tensity of an emotion that was suddenly poignant. 
 She saw the heroes passing, rifle on the shoulder — 
 passing, passing to some grand unimaginable climax 
 of effort, to a transcendent apotheosis far away- — 
 
THE CONQUERORS Wl 
 
 and then she saw Otto, Otto in his white surgeon's 
 dress, in a hushed hospital ward, his calm, keen face 
 bent over a bed. She had often seen him so. 
 
 "Victory! Victory!" shouted the crowd. All that 
 was not part, active combatant part, in this mighty 
 conflict where Germany — her Germany — wrestled 
 against a world in arms, seemed despicably mean, 
 unworthy of a man's strength. A burning resent- 
 ment filled her, mingled with the warrior impulse 
 of remote ancestors buried with their helm and 
 spear. The volcanic hysteria which underlies the 
 surface phlegm of the Teutonic temperament surged 
 uppermost. She uttered a wild, inarticulate cry. 
 
 The Justizrat turned to her, thinking she was ill. 
 She clutched his arm. 
 
 "Oh, if only I were a man!" she said, her eyes 
 meeting the flame in his. "If only I could do some- 
 thing splendid — heroic — for the Fatherland ! Some- 
 thing that would be Otto's part and mine together! 
 Achr She broke into sobs against the old man's 
 breast. 
 
 "You will, Schdtzchen, you will," said the old 
 lawyer, soothing her. "You will be the mother of 
 heroes who will conquer Asia in the next genera- 
 tion, as those gallant lads are conquering Europe in 
 this. Our German Kultur is born of such women as 
 you — for you incarnate the irresistible will to power, 
 the recognition of the moral majesty of war, which is 
 our Kultur itself. Ah, Schdtzchen,'' he murmured, 
 '^promise me — ^promise me that you will marry Otto ! 
 
202 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 My grandsons will be of the race of world-con- 
 querors I" 
 
 She looked up. 
 
 "Conquerors !" she cried. "Oh, if I were a man, 
 I could be a conqueror — ^but/' she smiled, with a 
 shake of the head, "I am only a woman, Schweiger' 
 vaterJ* 
 
 The last of the troops had gone. Her father 
 turned to her, still excited. 
 
 "Come, Minna,*' he cried, "let us see them off 
 at the railway station!" 
 
 He stepped out with an absurd little strutting imi- 
 tation of a martial step. His daughter and the 
 Justizrat followed him. They had not gone far 
 through the swirling eddies of the dispersing crowd 
 when there was again a clamour far ahead In the 
 mass of people, a shout that was no longer the paean 
 of enthusiasm which had roared up from the route 
 of the marching soldiers, but a shout that checks the 
 heart, the ugly shout of a mob perceiving its prey. 
 A quick commotion among the multitude followed, 
 a rush to line the curb once more. The word was 
 passed along: "The prisoners! They are coming!" 
 
 Borne off their feet in the scurry of eager sight- 
 seers, Minna and her two companions found them- 
 selves pushed out into the street. Into the front row 
 of spectators that now squeezed back before the 
 menace of the sidling, back-stepping horses of the 
 police. 
 
 "The prisoners!" The cry was repeated, domi- 
 
THE CONQUERORS 203 
 
 nant, an explanation, over the confused, vaguely 
 vengeful murmur of the mob that had lost Its Indi- 
 vidual sensibilities in the primitive Instinct of the 
 pack. It massed itself in a blind, collective hostility. 
 The cynical authorities who, far away, had arranged 
 — with the sureness of long practice In playing upon 
 the passions of the multitude — ^that the two columns 
 should pass In dramatic contrast, would have been 
 well pleased with the success of their stage-manage- 
 ment. 
 
 Minna was jostled by a big red-faced peasant who 
 elbowed his way to the front and stood, with snarled 
 upper-lip over discoloured teeth, gazing fiercely to- 
 ward the railway station whence the prisoners were 
 coming. 
 
 "Cursed Frenchmen!^' he cried In the uncouth, 
 elided syllables of his dialect. "Only wait — I'll tear 
 the heart out of you I" He gripped with his bony 
 hand In the air before his eyes. Then turning to 
 his neighbour he asked In a tone of naTve simplicity: 
 "Are they white, these Frenchmen?" 
 
 The girl shrank from the Ignorant brutality of 
 this old savage who was of her race, speaking a lan- 
 guage that was, though deformed, her own. She felt 
 bewildered, buffeted, stunned by the surge of malev- 
 olent passion that welled, hot-breathed, from the 
 crowd. Meek shopkeepers, docile workpeople, 
 women whose familiar talk was only of children and 
 clothes — they were all transformed, maglcked Into 
 sinister beings, where the soul of humanity was ab- 
 
g04 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 sent from its image. This crowd-mind that had no 
 thought and but one single impulse, appalled her 
 with its reckless ferocity. She glanced about her 
 for an avenue of escape. Her father was laughing 
 excitedly, senselessly. The Justizrat stood pale and 
 grim, his lips tight, his eyes flaming. 
 
 The clamour close at hand leaped to the howl of 
 hatred that swept along the street toward her. They 
 were coming ! She forgot all in an impulse of curios- 
 ity. The bulk of a prancing horse, hindquarters 
 close, dangerous, obtruded itself for an instant. 
 Then she saw the prim figure of the old Major von 
 Toplitz, monocle in his eye, mouth stern under the 
 white moustache, marching with stiff, precise step 
 down the centre of the roadway, as indifferent to the 
 shouts of the crowd as though he were solitary on a 
 parade-ground. Behind him came a squad of Land- 
 Sturm — old men with rugged faces under the shakoes 
 of a bygone day, in old blue uniforms with red epau- 
 lettes, antique rifles at the slope, fixed bayonets glit- 
 tering in the sun. The veterans marched with con- 
 scious pride, in level ranks and heavy step. There 
 was the sketch of a cheer as they passed — and then, 
 immediately, the howl of execration burst forth in 
 full intensity. 
 
 Minna stared, expecting she knew not what of re- 
 pulsive, of hate-compelling. Behind the squad of 
 Landsturm soldiers marched a solitary figure in tight- 
 fitting black tunic and red breeches. As one looks, 
 fascinated, to the face of a condemned, the girl 
 
THE CONQUERORS W5 
 
 gazed eagerly at the countenance of this lonely man 
 whose passage evoked such a storm of vituperation. 
 It was white but calm. A soft brown beard lent a 
 maturity to the quiet dignity of the poise of the 
 head. The forehead was swathed in a bandage, but 
 a kepi with a red velvet band was in exact military 
 position. 
 
 *'A doctor,'* she heard the Justizrat remark. 
 
 The prisoner turned his head indifferently toward 
 her as he passed. For one moment she met his eyes 
 full. They swept over her. 
 
 He passed out of sight, was succeeded without 
 pause by a column of haggard men in an ill-kept 
 formation of fours who stumbled and blundered 
 along at a pace that was evidently too fast for them. 
 The girl shrank at their aspect. Not a man but was 
 bandaged somewhere, but the bandages were stained, 
 clotted and dirty. Their uniforms were torn, caked 
 with mud or grey with dust. Their eyes looked white 
 out of faces that were grimed with filth and drawn 
 with suffering. They passed, hobbling with sticks, 
 supporting each other, swaying like drunken men 
 with hands pawing the air in front of them blindly 
 as they lurched, gasping with open mouths in the 
 dust of the street. A long-strung file of Landsturm 
 soldiers marched on each side of them, shouted harsh 
 injunctions to keep place in the column, shepherded 
 this mob of broken men with the butts of their rifles 
 as a shepherd pushes his blind flock with the crook. 
 And on either side of the street the crowd of civil- 
 
206 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 lans, hardly kept back by the mounted police, raved 
 at them, shook their fists, screamed like demons. 
 A hail of small objects, bits of vegetables, garbage, 
 small stones, fell upon the miserable hurrying 
 column. 
 
 *' Paris kaput! Parts kaput! Paris kaputT'^ 
 shrieked the crowd in monotonous repetition. *^ Paris 
 kaput!** It was as though they expected the captives 
 to be annihilated with this announcement of the final 
 disaster. Few, only, in the hurrying stream turned 
 their heads. The crowd screamed the louder, like 
 red Indians insulting the prisoners borne to the 
 stake, raging to find some word that would pierce 
 to the heart. Failing, they surged, in ugly rushes, in 
 a rain of blows from stick and umbrellas, onto the 
 column feebly protected by the cursing, overwhelmed 
 Landsturm veterans. A howl that was the howl for 
 blood of a pack in cry resounded down the street. 
 
 ^'Useless mouths, useless mouths," Minna heard 
 the Justizrat repeating as h^ was pushed toward her 
 in an eddy of the crowd. His old face was like 
 stone. 
 
 A string of wagons followed the column on foot. 
 She saw that they were laden with men who could 
 not move. Grey faces, bandage-masked, looked list- 
 lessly over their sides. There was another rush of 
 the mob. She saw men and women trying to clamber 
 
 ^" Kaput" — a slang word in common use which corresponds 
 roughly to the English "done in," the French "fichu." Every- 
 thing enemy was "kaput" in the early days of German victories. 
 
THE CONQUERORS SOT 
 
 onto the wagons, trying to find a foothold on the 
 spokes of the slowly revolving wheels, slashing with 
 sticks at the helpless passengers within. A police- 
 man plunged his horse vainly among the crowd, amid 
 a frightful outburst of cries. She turned sick, dizzy 
 — reeled fainting into the arms of the Justizrat — » 
 felt herself lifted out of the throng. 
 
 They were a merry company seated round the 
 supper-table in the Commandant's quarters at the 
 fort. The Major, cheeks flushed above the white 
 moustache, had almost ceased his attempts to re- 
 place the monocle, less and less permanent in its 
 position with each succeeding glass. He sat now 
 with the muscles of his eye screwed, up to hold it> 
 unconscious that it dangled on his breast, and smiled 
 stupidly at Minna, who was seated modestly at the 
 extremity of her side of the table. The Justizrat was 
 attentive to her — but with a sedulous, impersonal 
 care she obscurely resented. She felt she was being 
 watched over, not for herself but for her potentiali- 
 ties — like a stud-animal. Her mother, at the other 
 side of the Justizrat, turned her strongly featured 
 harsh face toward the lawyer and endeavoured to 
 force his attention to herself by continual appeals 
 to his judgment on matters of general Interest. Frau 
 Hartmann was a woman of much force of character 
 and powerful though limited intelligence. She was 
 the real head of the Hartmann factory. Scarcely 
 concealing her contempt for her insignificant hus- 
 band, she habitually talked with the old lawyer as 
 
208 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 though in him alone she had found her peer. The 
 Justizrat irritated her by obstinately retaining his 
 air of cool superiority and reserving his admiration 
 for his own wife. Frau Kramer sat opposite, next 
 to the bibulously excited factory-proprietor. A meek, 
 unsoured little woman, she smiled to see her idolised 
 husband paying attentions to the future daughter-in- 
 law she cordially loved. The Major, a widower since 
 many years, made gallant remarks to her at inter- 
 vals. She smiled sweetly, only half comprehending 
 them, in the happiness of this unclouded moment. 
 Was not her boy safe — ^the war as good as won? 
 
 "Fill up, Kramer! Fill up, Hartmann! — Frau 
 Kramer, you permit? — Frau Hartmann?" cried the 
 Major, brandishing the champagne-bottle. "Paris! 
 Don't take Paris every day! Ach, what a war I 
 what a war!" 
 
 ^'Jawohir* cried the manufacturer. "It's a good 
 war — a good war ! At first I was frightened, I will 
 confess, Herr Major. The seas closed to us — all 
 our foreign trade gone — so it looked. But it was a 
 good thing. I shut down the factory at once — that 
 was my wife's idea, was it not, Schatz? — for we had 
 been overproducing heavily. Now our stocks are 
 nearly all worked off at good prices, and we shall 
 start again with the world's markets clamouring for 
 our goods. Dank set Gott, the French and Belgian 
 competition have been killed for years. Most-fa- 
 voured-nation terms everywhere and ruinous indem- 
 
THE CONQUERORS 209 
 
 nities on our rivals, nicht wahr, Herr Kramer? Ach, 
 it is a good war — a good, quick war!" 
 
 The Justizrat looked up. 
 
 "It is the end of the first phase only, my friend,'*^ 
 he said. "We are supreme on the Continent — a 
 homogeneous Central Empire that will force its way 
 to the Mediterranean with the terms of peace, a 
 Central Empire that will dominate Russia in the 
 east and Asia Minor in the south, but we have yet to 
 win world-power. AchT' — he filled his glass — "we 
 shall win it. With all these resources at our com- 
 mand, we shall fling ourselves on England and crush 
 her I Her colonies will fall away at the first dis- 
 aster. She has no army; the war will be over be- 
 fore the half-million men Kitchener has called for 
 are in uniform. She has a strong fleet, yes — but we 
 shall hurl ourselves across the North Sea despite all 
 opposition, and capture London as we have captured 
 Paris. The British Empire will pass to us. That will 
 be the end of this war — the end for a generation, 
 perhaps. Then, with new, with overwhelming 
 strength, we shall conquer America ; they will never 
 wake up from the blind dollar-worship until we are 
 at their throats," he added contemptuously. "They 
 are utterly defenceless. America, Asia, the world I" 
 He raised his glass. "To German Kultur! The 
 Kultur of conquerors! Prosit!'* 
 
 ^'Prosit F* echoed the others, only half understand- 
 ing this exposition of their creed, but wholly ap- 
 
^10 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 proving Its tendency. Frau Kramer alone com- 
 mented. 
 
 "So long as Otto comes back to us !" she said with 
 a sigh. 
 
 Minna remained silent, thoughtful. She was proud, 
 very proud, of the Fatherland. The shock of war 
 had stirred her emotional nature to its depths, had 
 awakened the full power of the unquestioning pa- 
 triotism native to the German temperament and 
 sedulously fostered by every influence, scholastic, lit- 
 erary and religious, that had affected her young life. 
 She thrilled with a vivid sense of the victorious 
 might of the race to which she belonged. Then the 
 thought of Otto came to her, linked with a regret 
 at his slight share in the military glory with which 
 the country was intoxicated, but less poignant than 
 her bitter outburst of the morning. She had wept, 
 solitary in her room that afternoon, ashamed of 
 herself, realising how deeply she loved her doctor- 
 lover, trying to find a justification for him as a non- 
 combatant. Then she thought of the other doctor, the 
 lonely prisoner marching at the head of that melan- 
 choly procession, saw his eyes turn toward her — 
 sweep over her. She banished the thought. It re- 
 turned, metamorphosed, in a vague vision of the 
 wretched prisoners, cowering, faint with their 
 wounds, behind the barbed wire. She shuddered at 
 the recollection of prolonged, hopeless groans which 
 had emanated from a tent behind the barrier when 
 «he was passing the prispners' camp on her way to 
 
THE CONQUERORS 211 
 
 the fort. In a sudden revulsion she came back to 
 the light, the optimism, of this little feast to cele- 
 brate her country's victory. 
 
 *'Ja — Paris — first stage only!" said the Major. 
 "London next! Paris! Ach! ^S ist dock prdchtigf' 
 Then suddenly remembering: "Haven't seen the 
 communique yet! Be in to-night — certain." He 
 turned to the soldier-servant who stood like a statue 
 behind his chair. "Joseph! Papers in yet?" 
 
 **Ja, Herr Major — glauhe wohl/* 
 
 "Fetch one!" 
 
 The servant went out. 
 
 "Fill up, meine HerrenT cried the Major. "Full 
 glasses — finest communique of the war — drink to it, 
 eh!" The wine foamed up in the glasses. 
 
 The servant returned, laid a folded newspaper 
 before his master. The Major opened it, scanned it 
 with puzzled brows, felt for the monocle that had 
 once more slipped from his eye — scrutinised it anew. 
 
 The Justizrat tapped Impatiently on the table. 
 
 "The news, Herr Major— the news ! Let us have 
 
 itr 
 
 The Major shook his head with a bewildered ex- 
 pression and threw the newspaper across to the 
 lawyer. ''Mein GottF' was all he could utter. 
 
 The Justizrat snatched at the sheet — stared at It, 
 startled, as he read the emphatically thickened type 
 of the communique. 
 
 "Read It, Kramer!" cried Hartmann from the 
 other side of the table. "What the devil '* 
 
212 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The Justizrat drew a deep breath. 
 
 " * Communique of the 1 0th September * " he read. 
 " *The portions of the army which had pressed in 
 the pursuit as far as and across the Marne east of 
 Paris have been attacked from Paris and between 
 Meaux and Montmirail by superior forces. They 
 resisted the enemy throughout two days of heavy 
 combats^ when the approach of new strong enemy 
 columns was announced, and their right wing was 
 withdrawn.* — Mein Gott! It is defeat!'* 
 
 The hush which fell upon the company at this 
 startling news — this incredible confession of defeat, 
 the first in the war — lasted through minute after 
 minute while none could find a word to say. It was 
 broken by a knocking at the door. 
 
 Joseph went to open it. He returned with an 
 envelope in his hand. 
 
 "A telegram, Herr Major — for Herr Kramer." 
 
 The Justizrat tore open the envelope — uttered a 
 ivild cry. 
 
 "Otto! Otto is missing!" 
 
 His wife shrieked and collapsed in a faint. Minna 
 rose to her feet, stretched out her hand for the tele- 
 gram. 
 
 *' Missing? What — what does that mean?" she 
 asked unsteadily. "Not — not " 
 
 "Prisoner," said the Major with impatient deci- 
 sion, his mind preoccupied with the communique into 
 
THE CONQUERORS 213^ 
 
 whicK he was trying to read another meaning. 
 **Kramer, this isn^t so terrible, after all I" His tone 
 was plaintive, appealing, his pose of clipped speech 
 forgotten. "They do not say defeat!" 
 
 "Prisoner," echoed Minna. "Then there is hope- 
 — hope still?" 
 
 "Hope still I Of course there's hope I" exclaimed 
 the Major. "They don't say a word about the left 
 wing of the centre. It's only the right wing that is 
 withdrawn. Withdrawn! Withdrawn — not retreat!" 
 He reassumed his habitual manner. "Battle pro- 
 ceeding. See! Made prisoners too, and guns! Only 
 a setback — a check. Go forward again. Never fear, 
 Fraulein — Paris ours ! To-morrow's communique — 
 certain!" 
 
 "Oh," cried Minna, "but I want to know about 
 Otto! Does it mean he has been left behind — a 
 prisoner — ^perhaps wounded, Father-in-law?" 
 
 The Justizrat had gone round to his wife, was 
 bending over her. He looked up. 
 
 "It may be so, Minna," he said. 
 
 Frau Hartmann was bustling round the stricken 
 woman. 
 
 "Be quiet, Minna!" she snapped. "Heinrlch, go 
 and fetch my smelling-salts." 
 
 Her husband obeyed meekly. Minna sank down 
 in her seat, hid her head upon an arm flung on the 
 table and burst into tears. 
 
 The Major strode up and down the room, news' 
 paper in hand, making a disjointed but more and 
 
^14. ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 more hopeful commentary upon the communique. 
 He was quite blind to the human distress of his 
 friends in his absorption in the gigantic event of 
 which these few lines of black type were the first 
 intelligence. 
 
 ^^Natiirlichf Not a word about centre — ^left 
 wing. That's the battle — real battle — east of Paris 
 — fighting to cut French from eastern frontier — still 
 proceeding. Break through — Paris ripe plum ! Ja, 
 da isfs! Withdraw right wing — good strategy — 
 occupy French — strike elsewhere." He stopped for 
 a moment. "Not defeat! No! Impossible! Im- 
 possible! Ridiculous — ridiculous, Herr Kramer!" 
 He strode fiercely up to the Justizrat, who had re- 
 vived his wife and was now supporting her, sooth- 
 ingly, with his arm. The poor woman, conscious 
 anew of the calamity, was sobbing, "Otto! Otto!" 
 in tones of heartrending despair. Her husband was 
 endeavouring to persuade her that it was still pos- 
 sible that they would receive good news. 
 
 "Good news !" cried the Major. "Of course we 
 shall get good news!" 
 
 At that moment Herr Hartmann returned with 
 his wife's smelling-salts, 
 
 "Herr Major," he said, "the French doctor is 
 outside and wants to speak to you." 
 
 'Whatf almost screamed the Major. "French 
 doctor? What is he doing here? How — how the 
 devil did he escape? How?" 
 
 "He is with an Unteroffizier*^ explained the manu- 
 
THE CONQUERORS 215 
 
 facturer, shrinking back from the wrath of the com- 
 mandant. '^I don't know anything more." 
 
 "He can't see me!" cried the Major. "Won't 
 see him I" 
 
 "Pardon, Herr Major," said a strange voice 
 quietly in a good German accent, "but I must see 
 you I" 
 
 "The Major turned to see the French doctor 
 standing in the room; behind him the gaunt figure 
 of a Landsturm soldier filled the doorway. Every 
 one in the room looked up, at this intrusion, stared 
 at the stranger. He stood calm and dignified, the 
 mouth under the short brown beard firmly set, the 
 eyes under the bandaged forehead looking unabashed 
 at his jailer. 
 
 "Out!" cried the Major, choked with rage at 
 this audacious invasion of his private quarters. 
 "Out! At once! — Gunther," he shouted to the 
 Landsturm soldier, "take him away! You are under 
 arrest yourself for bringing him ! Throw him out !" 
 
 "Pardon, Herr Major, I come to inform you that 
 typhus has broken out among your prisoners. I 
 have just come from a dying man. Perhaps it would 
 be inadvisable for any one to touch me?" The 
 Frenchman smiled, sure of safety from molesta- 
 tion. The Landsturm soldier and the servant 
 shrank horrified from his neighbourhood. 
 
 "Typhus!" screamed the Major. "Out! Out! 
 Go out at once 1 Don't bring your filthy diseases 
 here." 
 
216 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "I might point out," said the Frenchman calmly, 
 "that the disease is due to the shockingly insanitary 
 conditions in which the German government has 
 seen fit to transport its prisoners. Those men were 
 picked up a week ago on the battlefield; they have 
 been travelling for days in filthy cattle-trucks — ^they 
 have had no attention but what I could divide among 
 five hundred of them — they have been starved. 
 Until their arrival here, they had not eaten for four 
 days. You have provided them with a little thin 
 soup, I will admit. In these circumstances, I must 
 refuse to go until my demands have been complied 
 with." He took a step toward the Commandant. 
 
 The Major dodged back in terror. 
 
 **What do you want? What do you want?" he 
 cried. 
 
 "I want a proper isolation hospital for the in- 
 fected cases, medical stores, — for there are none in 
 the camp, — proper food for the sick men, beds for 
 the wounded who are now lying on the ground, and 
 medical assistance." 
 
 "I cannot!" snapped the Major. "The prison- 
 ers' quarters are arranged for by high authority. 
 You are their medical attendant — no other!" 
 
 *T am aware," replied the Frenchman, "that in 
 defiance of the Geneva Convention I am detained 
 as a prisoner, and I desire nothing better than to 
 care for my unfortunate countrymen. But it is neces- 
 sary that while I am attending to the typhus cases 
 some other doctor should visit the wounded who are 
 
THE CONQUERORS 217 
 
 not yet infected. I wish also," he said with a glance 
 at the women in the room, "to appeal to the women 
 of the town to assist in nursing the wounded. Nurses 
 are essential — at once!" He ended with a tone of 
 authority. 
 
 *^VerbotenP* snapped the Major. "Absolutely 
 forbidden for civilians to come in contact with the 
 prisoners. — Guntherl" He turned to the Land" 
 Sturm soldier. "Double the guards round the camp. 
 Shoot any prisoner who approaches the barbed wire. 
 Forbid any man to enter the camp. The prisoners' 
 rations are to be put down inside the gateway and 
 left." 
 
 "Do you condemn these men to death?" cried the 
 Frenchman, anger mastering him. 
 
 "Cursed Frenchmen!" said the Major. *^Sie 
 mogen krepieren! Go away I" 
 
 *^Va victisP* murmured the Justizrat, his face 
 grim and pitiless. "We may have a long war — so 
 many useless mouths the less. You are right, Herr 
 Major," he added in a louder tone. "The German 
 population must run no risk of infection. Our KuU 
 tur must not be endangered as a result of sentimen- 
 tality!" 
 
 Herr Hartmann had retreated to the farthest 
 comer of the room, whence he stared, in the fascina- 
 tion of terror, at this man who carried death In his 
 clothes. The sweat pearled upon his forehead. Frau 
 Hartmann and the wife of the Justizrat clasped each 
 other, frightened and trembling, stood speechless. 
 
^18 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 At a little distance, Minna contemplated this fear- 
 less captive, who held his ground, head high, eyes 
 flashing contempt. She could not take her gaze 
 from his face. 
 
 "Herr Major,'' said the Frenchman, "I cannot be 
 dismissed thus. These cursed Frenchmen, as you 
 call them, are men — men even as your sons, the sons 
 and husbands of your friends here, sons and hus- 
 bands that may be lying even now, wounded and 
 prisoners, in French hands. Would you wish that 
 they should be inhumanly condemned to death — as 
 you condemn these soldiers now ? They have fought 
 for their country as yours are fighting for theirs! 
 I appeal to you. Think of one dear to you — of 
 whose fate at this moment you are Ignorant — ^be- 
 fore you commit this inhumanity, this crime for which 
 you will have to answer before the tribunal of the 
 nations!" 
 
 The eloquence of his tone was more powerful even 
 than his words. The eyes above the brown beard 
 were a flame that none could meet. 
 
 "Johann!" cried Frau Kramer, looking at her 
 husband. 
 
 The face of the Justlzrat went a shade harder. 
 
 "The German conscience is its own tribunal!" he 
 said. 
 
 The girl shuddered. A vision, the vision of Otto 
 ^^missing'* with all that it implied, rose before her. 
 An obscure combat raged somewhere deep within 
 
THE CONQUERORS 219 
 
 her, filled her breast. Suddenly she sprang for- 
 ward. 
 
 *'Herr Frenchman," she cried, "I will help! I 
 can nurse — I passed my examination." 
 
 ^^Minna!'* The cry was one simultaneous chorus 
 of horror, its gesture a simultaneous movement to 
 restrain. The Major clutched vainly at her as she 
 passed him. She ranged herself by the side of the 
 Frenchman, seized his hand. 
 
 "Now I" she cried. "Touch me who dare ! These 
 men shall not die without at least one to care for 
 them I" 
 
 "Minna I" screamed her mother. "Come away 
 this instant I Drag her away, Heinrich! Ach, she 
 has dishonoured us!" 
 
 Her father, paralysed at the mere idea of contact 
 with the infection, did not move. 
 
 "Minna," said the Justizrat sternly, "come away! 
 Think of Otto!" 
 
 The girl stood firm. 
 
 "I stay with this man — in the camp," she said. 
 "You cannot, dare not, touch me. I stay with him 
 because Otto, in his place, would do as he does !" 
 
 ''Unerhortr cried the Major. "She cannot stay! 
 The camp is isolated. I have given the order." 
 
 "Will you dare to remove me?" flashed the girl 
 at him. "You will provide the necessities this doc- 
 tor demands, Herr Major, or there will be such a 
 scandal at my death in your neglected camp that you 
 will be disgraced!" 
 
220 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 The Major swore in his most vehement parade- 
 ground manner. 
 
 *'Some straw is essential at once," said the French- 
 man with a quiet smile. 
 
 The Major swore again. "Get it, Guntherl" he 
 barked. "Straw I At once I" 
 
 The Landsturmer saluted, went out. The Ju&- 
 tizrat groaned. 
 
 The girl turned to the French doctor who re- 
 minded her so much of Otto. 
 
 "You will have me help you, Herr Frenchman?" 
 she asked. 
 
 The Frenchman's eyes looked into hers. They 
 communed in a flash that transcended the cloaks of 
 nationality and sex, approved each other. 
 
 "Willingly, Fraulein," he answered. "Let us go, 
 for there is much to do." 
 
 They moved toward the door. The Justizrat 
 sprang at them, muttering to himself: "My grand- 
 sons — ^my grandsons I" He barred the way. 
 
 "You shall not go!" he cried. 
 
 The girl held up a warning hand, while with the 
 other she retained the Frenchman's grasp. 
 
 "Stand back, Herr Kramer!" she said. "You 
 must run no risks. I am possibly infected." She 
 smiled. "There are perhaps other conquerors than 
 yours. I go with this one. Were Otto here, he 
 would go too I" 
 
 They passed out. 
 
VIII 
 
 THE SEA DEVIL 
 
 IN the vicinity of the submarine harbour at Wil- 
 helmshaven, a strong cordon of Landwehr in- 
 fantrymen, helmeted, greatcoated, with fixed bayo- 
 nets, kept back with much show of authority a meagre 
 crowd of sightseers. Few men were among the 
 little throng that shivered in the chilly wind of a 
 February morning; those that stood there were 
 workmen in dirty overalls, obviously lingering for a 
 moment or two on their way home from a night shift 
 at one of the great machine shops whose forest of 
 chimneys in the background overlaid the grey sky 
 with a whelm of brown fumes. But these work- 
 men, roughly garbed and with the pallour of fatigue 
 visible through the smeared dirt of their faces, of- 
 fered an immediate contrast to their fellow specta- 
 tors, the silent, shawl-clutching women, the restless, 
 sharp-featured children, even to the stolid, grey-clad 
 soldiers in their serried rank. By comparison, they 
 were plump, well nourished. Their voices, as they 
 shouted witticism or coarse repartee, rang strangely 
 loud and sonorous over the hushed, almost plaintive, 
 murmur of the crowd. 
 
 221 
 
222 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Dark-ringed eyes staring out of white faces, thin 
 under the close-drawn shawls, for the most part in 
 black dresses of wretched quality, the warped soles 
 of their boots betraying the paper composition, the 
 women conversed with one another in low voices. 
 The bony hands of each and all grasped firmly a 
 little packet of cards, clutched to the breast with 
 the twist of the shawl — ^their passports to the neces- 
 saries of life. Their demeanour was listless, apa- 
 thetic, here and there convulsed, suddenly and with- 
 out warning, by the querulous, exaggerated anger 
 of thin-sheathed nerves. But the high-pitched cry 
 hushed abruptly as the infantry officer, pacing in 
 front of his men, turned his head toward it. Dodg- 
 ing around the skirts of the women, peering under 
 the elbows of the soldiers, the pinched faces of the 
 children, their high cheek bones purple with the cold, 
 were vividly eloquent of privation. Their eyes, 
 preternaturally large, roved restlessly alert, as if 
 questing a prey for the furtive hands to snatch. 
 Thin wrists and knees protruded, sticklike, from 
 their thread-bare, outworn clothing. None played. 
 On all was an uncanny expression of premature age. 
 A baby hugged in a woman's shawl whimpered hun- 
 grily. 
 
 Along the roadway behind the little crowd, a 
 heavy military motor lorry lumbered noisily, its rub- 
 berless tires ringing on the cobbles. It left behind 
 it a suffocating stench of "petrol substitute." 
 
 From the adjacent buildings hung many flags, 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 223 
 
 the red, white and black of Germany predominant 
 among the colours of Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, 
 and Turkey. Stretched across one of the houses, In 
 large white letters on a red ground, grimly significant 
 above that pinched throng, were the words : **Gott 
 strafe EnglandF^ A little farther on, similarly dis- 
 played, was the antlstrophe ^^Unsere U-Boot-HeU 
 den! Gott schiitze sieP^ ^ And, explanatory of this 
 assemblage, a third house announced : *'Der Rache- 
 Tag! i Februar, igiy!'*^ 
 
 A couple of official motor cars swung through a 
 soldier-walled opening In the crowd and sped down 
 the wide, paved roadway of the dock. Where they 
 stopped, a guard of honour presented arms with 
 swift, precise movements, and a military band struck 
 up the air : ''Lieh* Faterland, magst ruhig seinJ* A 
 group of naval officers saluted as some thick-coated 
 dignitaries descended from the cars. There was 
 much stepping forward, heel-clicking salutes, shak- 
 ing of hands, more salutes, and a backward step. 
 The dignitaries were plump and affable. The naval 
 officers, tanned of face and alert of bearing, were 
 naval officers all the world over. 
 
 On the side of the dock was an alleyway of young 
 fir trees in tubs. Their branches were arched over 
 a red carpet that led to the waterside. There, 
 closely ranked, lay six submarines, the black-crossed 
 white flag, eagle centred, of the imperial navy flut- 
 
 **'Our submarine heroes. God protect them!" 
 '"The day of vengeance, ist February, 1917!" 
 
224 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 tering from their short masts. The dignitaries and 
 their satellites passed down the corridor of trees, 
 boarded the vessels. 
 
 The dock gates of the submarine harbour were 
 decked with evergreen also.^ Half an hour later, 
 they opened to allow the passage of six long bodies 
 slipping through the water, with high superstruc- 
 tures and conning towers manned by sailors who 
 waved and cheered. From the dock came the brass 
 and drums of the military band — ^'Deutschland uher 
 AllesT From behind welled the fierce, speeding 
 shouts of a hungry race that saw, in a vision of 
 hatred, fat corn ships wallowing through the sea 
 toward a gluttonous England — saw them clutched 
 one and all, from this day forth, into the swallow- 
 ing deep. The plump dignitaries had made impres- 
 sive little speeches, full of ^'frightfulness." "The 
 whole world shall stand aghast at the exploits of our 
 sea devils!'* one of them had announced. "Gen- 
 erations yet unborn shall remember with a shudder 
 the anniversary of February the First!" The naval 
 officers had listened with straight faces. In long 
 file, the "sea devils" slid out through the calm 
 waters of the harbour, their oil engines silently puls- 
 ing them onward to the mist-hung arena of their 
 war. 
 
 They were sped by the vindictive hatred of a mis- 
 ery that, hopeless of relief, craved savagely to inflict 
 an equal suffering on the scatheless enemy. 
 * Vouched for by the Frankfurter Zeitung. 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 225 
 
 Kapitan Leutnant Karl Hoffmann, commander of 
 the U-026, joined his second in command in the 
 narrow, canvas-screened navigating bridge on the 
 summit of the high conning tower. Behind them, 
 around the steersman, rose the tall tubes of the three 
 periscopes. In front of them stretched the long, 
 narrow, railed deck — little wider than a gangplank 
 — featureless save for the battened hatchway mark- 
 ing the lair of a 14-pounder gun. Running "light," 
 the U-026 was butting into a fresh southwesterly 
 gale with all the force of her two-thousand-horse- 
 power, eighteen-knot engines. The high, bluff bows 
 that flared away to the junction of the superstruc- 
 ture, and the humped, porpoise back of the hull, 
 crashed incessantly into long rollers that lifted them- 
 selves wall-like, hung poised for an instant, and then 
 were divided in flying spray and a thud of green 
 water resolved into foam upon the deck. The lift 
 of the brown-grey carcass, as the wave rushed aft, 
 left two long cascades of sea water pouring from the 
 superstructure to the hull. She ducked and rolled, 
 every now and then sliding to take a vicious header 
 into the green seas that hurried and jostled one an- 
 other, eager for her destruction. To windward, 
 ragged strips of cloud, dark under a grey sky, were 
 reaching out from the coming squall. To the north 
 and east the gust that had passed heaped itself 
 rounded into the heaven, intensely black, the sea 
 beneath it copperas streaked and crowned with vivid 
 white. Within the circumscribed horizon of trailing 
 
2^6 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 cloud and tumbling, hurrying waves the U-026 was 
 the only thing at variance with the gale. 
 
 ^'Gott set dank! This is going to last!" shouted 
 the commander, as the two officers suddenly turned 
 their backs to a flying scud that smote hard upon 
 their oilskins. *'No chance of their damned aircraft 
 to-day!" 
 
 Leutnant Wohlsinger grinned all over his wet, 
 weather-reddened face. 
 
 *'We shouldn't be here long!" He clutched at the 
 rail as, with a lurching, sideways dip, the U-026 
 threatened to bury herself completely under a sud- 
 denly towering wall of water. Recovering his breath 
 and wiping the salt from his eyes, he added : *T hate 
 these confounded shallow seas." 
 
 "Yes," replied the commander, pulling the sag- 
 ging canvas *'dodger" higher upon its supporting 
 stanchions. "If only one of the others can catch the 
 Lithuania! We shan't stop long in this trap !" He 
 glanced behind him, where, in response to a previous 
 order, several men were rigging the wireless mast. 
 "We may get some news." 
 
 Wohlsinger glanced also at the aerials, now being 
 hoisted. 
 
 "Hope we shan't have to wait long for it!" he 
 shouted. "Bad place to advertise one's self!" His 
 eyes swept the misty horizon anxiously. "We're on 
 the Holyhead route." 
 
 His superior nodded. 
 
 "Can't help it. It's eight bells. Commodore 
 
THE SEA DEVn. 227 
 
 should be talking." He also scanned the waste of 
 tumbling waters topped with streamers of flying spin- 
 drift as the squall rushed down upon them. It was 
 empty of any ship but their own. 
 
 A man's head emerged from the half-open cap 
 of the conning tower, was touched by outstretched 
 fingers in a sketch of a salute spoiled by a violent roll 
 of the vessel. 
 
 "A message, Herr Kapitan!" 
 
 Hoffmann waved him out of the way and swung 
 himself down to the control platform within the 
 conning tower. He switched on the electric light, 
 took the paper from the sailor, and read the mes- 
 sage. It was prefaced by the code letters of the 
 transmitting ship and his own. 
 
 V-198 reports Lithuania sighted 12:38 p. m. 50 miles 
 N. W. Cape Clear steaming 24 knots course S. E. escort 
 two destroyers beat off attack one destroyer believed dam- 
 aged. V-198 out of action repairing rendezvous. No com- 
 munication with V-56 or T-29. Feared loss. Am taking 
 up position 7.20 W. 51.59N. Maintain your station.^ 
 Communicate 8 a. m. to-morrow.^ 
 
 "What news?" called a voice from the ladder at 
 his feet. Hoffmann looked to see the round, pasty 
 face of the engineer officer. Marine Ober-Ingenieur 
 Wolff, staring up at him. The engineer officer 
 
 *V before a submarine's number indicates that she was built 
 in the Voos yard. T similarly indicates the Tecklenburg yard. 
 U stands for the Urania yard as well as, generally, for "Unter- 
 seeboot." It is alleged that there are, or have been, at least 
 two hundred of each of these marks. 
 
 * German time. 
 
«28 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 scrambled up to take the message he held out. His 
 dark, beady eyes scanned the paper, looked up to 
 Hoffmann. 
 
 "It falls to us, then?" The curse which followed 
 the question was a measure of his gratification at 
 the prospect. 
 
 ''Unless the commodore catches her," replied 
 Hoffmann shortly. A fortnight of close confinement 
 with Ober-Ingenieur Wolff had induced an almost 
 physical antipathy in his commanding officer. He 
 was impatient of even the briefest conversation with 
 him, and meals were a torture. At the uncalled-for 
 curse, a sudden disgust rose bitter within him. "We 
 shall do our duty, cost what it will," he said harshly, 
 and bent over the chart, pricking out the commo- 
 dore's position, pencilling a calculation. 
 
 "It will cost our lives!" said Wolff, not to be 
 silenced, as he turned to go. 
 
 The U-026 was one of the squadron of six boats 
 under the orders of a commodore. For a week after 
 arriving at their cruising grounds, they had raided 
 the incoming merchant shipping, sinking by torpedo 
 and gunfire. In these operations one of their num- 
 ber had been lost. Then the commodore had called 
 them together for a great, concerted operation. The 
 British Government had chartered the mammoth 
 transatlantic Lithuania, had filled her to the brim, 
 staterooms, cabins, dining halls included, with wheat. 
 Her cargo would feed the British Isles for a fort- 
 night. It was known that she had left New York, 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 229 
 
 end the German admiralty was making a great ef- 
 fort to intercept her. Out in the Atlantic was a 
 flotilla of large-ocean-keeping submarines. The 
 Lithuania had eluded them. On the north of Ire- 
 land route another flotilla lurked. On the ordinary 
 southern route — which the liner had chosen — the 
 flotilla to which the U-026 belonged lay in ambus- 
 cade. So far the luck had been with the English. 
 The outpost boat was crippled. Two others had 
 disappeared in the mysterious silence that was only 
 too common an end. The great liner had still to 
 run the gauntlet of the commodore's boat in the 
 St. George's Channel and the U-026 off Anglesey. 
 She was rushing toward them now at twenty-four 
 knots an hour. Hoffmann finished his calculation. 
 It was four-fifteen p. m. Allowing for a divergent, 
 zigzag course, she should pass about eight to-mor- 
 row morning. 
 
 Hoffmann climbed again to the grey cold of the 
 navigating bridge. He had scarcely drawn himself 
 erect when the hochhootsman (boatswain), peering 
 over the dodger by Wohlsinger's side, uttered a 
 sharp cry : 
 
 "Steamer on the port bowl" 
 
 As the U-026 lifted herself askew on a great 
 wave, Hoffmann had a glimpse of a smudge of dark 
 smoke mingling with the streaming cloud curtains 
 of the horizon. The glance was sufficient. The ne- 
 cessity of avoiding discovery was imperative. He 
 shouted an order. The hochhootsman blew a pierc- 
 
230 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 ing blast upon his whistle. Men came scrambling 
 up from below in quick succession. 
 
 A few busy minutes, and the wireless mast was 
 stowed, the navigating bridge cleared, the steersman 
 installed at the wheel within the conning tower. 
 High up between the oval steel walls Hoffmann sat 
 perched on a little seat, his head in the lookout cap 
 which surmounted the tower. For yet a moment the 
 U-026 lay bare upon the surface. In her buoyant 
 roll and rise the rounded back on either side of the 
 superstructure lifted itself, glistening under the rush 
 of water pouring on it from above. Then the rise 
 became less and less pronounced, the settlement 
 deeper, heavier at each dive. The rounded back 
 showed itself no more. The long superstructure wal- 
 lowed in the surrounding water, was engulfed. A 
 long line of white foam, of convergingly striated tur- 
 moil, as above a submerged reef, marked its posi- 
 tion. A wave rolled straight, without obstacle, to 
 the conning tower and broke in dark-green trans- 
 lucence over the lookout cap. The boat rolled some- 
 what, pitched scarcely at all. The pulse of the oil 
 engines changed into the fast whir of the electric 
 motors. The U-026 was running awash. 
 
 Through the thick glass pane of the lookout cap, 
 Hoffmann gazed earnestly at the distant smudge of 
 smoke, just discernible over the leaping, spume-torn 
 wave top on a level with his eyes. On what course 
 was the danger moving? Discovery would be al- 
 most certainly fatal to their chances, but, unless 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 231 
 
 forced, he did not wish to dive. Of the surface mine 
 fields he had, thanks to an admirable intelligence 
 service, a good chart, and could avoid them. Of the 
 deeply anchored submarine mines — and other un- 
 pleasantnesses — that must protect the port of Liver- 
 pool against such as he, he had no more than a 
 shrewd suspicion. He had no wish to bump into a 
 sudden explosion. The hostile ship was steering 
 directly athwart his bows. Hoffmann thanked vague 
 divinities that they were to leeward of it, veiled by 
 the cloud of her smoke. He turned his gaze from 
 left to right — and shouted a sharp order suddenly. 
 
 Away on the starboard quarter, still far distant in 
 a smother of spray, a destroyer was racing toward 
 them. Even as he looked, he saw a spurt from her 
 bows — saw a column of water leap straight up from 
 a lifting wave, just short of them. Green seas rolled 
 over the glass of the lookout cap. In obedience to 
 his order, the U-026 had submerged, was diving 
 downward under the guidance of her deflected hori- 
 zontal rudders. He dropped to the floor of the con- 
 trol platform, seized and twisted the two handles of 
 the periscope tube, gazed into the binoculars at the 
 bottom. He had one last glimpse of the pursuing 
 destroyer, saw two more shell spouts leap from the 
 sea, and then the periscope also was submerged. 
 
 He took his gaze from the periscope to see Wohl- 
 singer smiling at him. 
 
 "Destroyer?" queried the lieutenant, with an ex- 
 perienced air. 
 
2S2 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Yes, confound It!" said the commander, leaning 
 over the chart. He put his finger on their approxi- 
 mate location, noted the fathom figures — here all 
 too small — glanced at the depth-indicator dial. The 
 needle turned steadily toward greater figures. He 
 shouted another order. The movement of the needle 
 was checked — recovered. It swung gently up and 
 down over double figures. The commander ran his 
 finger over the chart, stopped. "We'll go to bottom 
 here for the night," he announced. He gave an 
 order to the steersman, changing the course. The 
 boat pitched as she swung round, seemed to float in 
 as easily disturbed an equipoise as a toy balloon's in 
 the air. In this shallow sea, the gale above stirred 
 the depths appreciably. The boat "pumped," rose 
 and fell vertically — a sickening sensation, with the 
 floor dropping sheer away beneath the feet — and 
 rolled violently. At the full ten knots an hour of 
 her whirring electric motors, the U-026 ran for 
 safety. 
 
 The commander doffed his stiff and dripping oil- 
 skins, stood erect in the close-buttoned blue jacket 
 with the two gold bands and crown upon the cuffs. 
 Freed from the sou-wester, his head was revealed as 
 young, purposeful, well balanced. The grey eyes 
 had a humorous twinkle. 
 
 "The sea will be alive with them now," he said 
 to his sub, with an upward gesture of the head and a 
 grin. They stood together on the control platform 
 of the conning tower, Wohlsinger likewise divested 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 233 
 
 of his oilskins. "Can't you see 'em — cursing us for 
 bringing 'em out on a day like this? But I think 
 we've dodged 'em. They'll probably think we've 
 run to earth — here!" His left arm flung amicably 
 over the shoulder of his junior, he drew him to the 
 chart, pointed a locality. "Thank God, they can't 
 use their aircraft to-day I" 
 
 "You don't think they'll stop the Lithuaniaf* 
 queried Wohlsinger. There was an untrammelled 
 freedom in his tone that was eloquent of the good 
 relations between him and his chief. Quite obvi- 
 ously friendship born of many perils, surmounted 
 in common, linked the two young men. 
 
 "No. She's too far on the southern course. They 
 might divert her to Southampton — they can't dock 
 her anywhere else in the Channel. But I don't think 
 they will. They'll have a swarm out to protect her 
 to-morrow and try to run her through. Our best 
 chance is that they think we have run farther afield." 
 
 He glanced up at the depth indicator and again 
 at the chart. Then he shouted an order to the man 
 at the horizontal steering gear and clanged the en- 
 gine-room telegraph to half speed, to "slow." An- 
 other order filled all the diving tanks to their ex- 
 treme capacity. The depth indicator that had leaped 
 upward sank slowly. There was a bump, a jar, a 
 gentle grating along the bottom. Once more the 
 engine-room telegraph clanged. "Stop!" Rocking 
 a little, the U-026 lay lightly upon the sea bed. 
 
 "There we are till to-morrow morning!" said 
 
234? ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Hoffmann. "Come and have a hand at piquet. Pipe 
 to ahendessen, boatswain P' 
 
 They descended into the interior of the boat. The 
 arch-roofed chamber, lit by electric light, a polished, 
 gleaming torpedo lashed against each wall, bulk- 
 headed aft for the engine-room, was being set out 
 with trestle tables. Blue-jumpered men, panikin in 
 hand, were settling themselves around them. A cook 
 entered with a steaming dish. The commander and 
 his junior turned in to the tiny officers' quarters, 
 switched on the electric light. 
 
 They opened up the little table which, extended, 
 filled nearly all the available space, and squeezed 
 themselves round to the cushioned seats which 
 sprang from the bulkheads. As calmly as though 
 seated in the Officers' Club at Wilhelmshaven, in- 
 stead of resting on the sea bed twenty fathoms be- 
 low the patrol boats of their foes, with instant death 
 as the penalty of discovery, they cut for the deal. 
 
 "You have the devil's own luck, Hoffmann!" 
 grumbled Wohlsinger amicably, as he totted up the 
 figures of the second rubber of six hands. 
 
 "I hope he's got enough to go round for all of 
 us. We need it all." Ober-Ingenieur Wolff had 
 entered the little cabin. He also squeezed himself 
 round to a seat. "Still at that infernal game !" 
 
 Neither of his comrades so much as looked up.' 
 Imprisonment for a long period of time with an 
 alien temperament is apt to sour the amenities of 
 intercourse. 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 235 
 
 A frown lowered on the engineer's heavy, pasty 
 face, scarred with an ugly reminiscence of his stu- 
 dent days. 
 
 "WeVe nicely in the trap, it seems to me," he 
 grumbled. "TheyVe spotted us. If the weather 
 clears, they'll have an aeroplane out for a certainty. 
 We shan't have a dog's chance in these shallows. I 
 believe the gale's blown itself out already." He 
 finished with desperate pessimism, glaring at the card 
 players. "I wish I had never volunteered for this 
 cursed submarine service." 
 
 Hojffmann raised his head. 
 
 "So do I, Wolff," he said quietly. 
 
 Wohlsinger murmured something about a prefer- 
 ence for Kiel and "Nachtleben." 
 
 Wolff turned on him furiously, the saber cut across 
 his face livid with the rush of passionate blood. 
 
 "Do you suggest I am a coward?" he shouted, his 
 self-control, sapped by long-continued nervous strain, 
 utterly gone. "You shall give me satisfaction for 
 that when we get back — you shall I Do you hear 
 me?" Wohlsinger was imperturbably shuffling the 
 cards, not even looking at him. 
 
 Hoffmann interposed. 
 
 "That will do, Wolff," he said, looking straight 
 at the twitching face. "Remember you are a Ger- 
 man officer on board a boat that I have the honour to 
 command. It is unnecessary to take the crew into 
 your confidence, and I forbid it. Your courage is 
 not in question. The suggestion — made originally 
 
236 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 by yourself — was that there are other spheres of 
 naval activity more congenial to you. We agree." 
 
 "I'm just as eager to drown these Englanders as 
 you are," grumbled the engineer. "Only I don't 
 see the necessity of committing suicide to do it. No- 
 body will be more pleased than I if all their food 
 ships are sunk and all the schweinhunde starve — 
 every dog of theml" 
 
 "I wonder how short of food they really are?" 
 remarked Wohlsinger, feeling the danger of the en- 
 gineer's bad temper and trying to induce an amicable 
 conversation. "The Hamburger Nachrichten was 
 positive before we left that they had not got a week's 
 supply in the country. Did you read that account of 
 the food riots in London, Hoffmann? If they lose 
 this cargo, their game's up." 
 
 "It may be so," agreed Hoffmann. "But one 
 reads so many silly stories in the papers." 
 
 "I believe they're starving already," said Wolff 
 fiercely, determined at all costs to hostility toward 
 his superior. "I don't see why you shouldn't believe 
 the papers. They must be starving. They don't 
 grow anything, and we're sinking all their ships. 
 Good thing, too ! I hope every pig dog of them— 
 man, woman, and child — starves. That's the way to 
 serve the enemies of Germany — Belgium, Servia, 
 Poland — and now England. Die sollen alle crC' 
 pier en r* 
 
 Hoffmann leaned his chin upon his hand, looked 
 thoughtful. He saw as in a vision the pinched 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 237 
 
 throng of women and children near the docks at 
 Wilhelmshaven on the morning that they had 
 started. That kind of thing — only worse — ^Belgium, 
 Servia, Poland, England! He drew a long breath. 
 
 "Well, one must do one's duty. War is a terri- 
 ble thing. I like torpedoing battleships. I don't 
 mind a fight. But I must confess I don't like sink- 
 ing liners and I don't like making war on women 
 and children." 
 
 "England started it!" said Wolff brutally. 
 
 "Yes," chorused Hoffmann and Wohlsinger, with 
 complete conviction. "England started it!" Wohl- 
 singer cut the cards upon the table. "Well, destruc- 
 tion to the Lithuania! Come on, Hoffmann — ^there's 
 time for another game." 
 
 Presently a man entered, laid the table. The three 
 officers ate. 
 
 Not without some bickering, the weary hours of 
 inactivity passed. At last they turned in. The 
 U-026 gently cradled her crew as they slept peace- 
 fully at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 The next morning Hoffmann and Wohlsmger 
 were sitting at their coffee. Wolff had already fin- 
 ished, had gone to his engines. 
 
 "I shan't rise till the latest possible minute," Hoff- 
 mann was saying. "They are certain to have pa- 
 trols out. Eight bells, the commodore said. We 
 shall have to rise then." 
 
 "I wonder what the weather's like this morning?" 
 queried Wohlsinger. 
 
2S8 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Yes." An expression of anxiety passed over the 
 commander's face. "That's what has been haunt- 
 ing me. Please God, the gale is continuing! What's 
 that?" 
 
 Both officers jumped up in sudden alarm. Over- 
 head there was a grating, scraping noise, resonant 
 on the metal hull. 
 
 "Dragnets!" 
 
 Both stood, stock-still, listening to the dread 
 sound. Wohlsinger's eyes held his commander's 
 face. The scraping noise continued, with heavy 
 bangs where the net tore free of an obstacle on the 
 hull. They strove to determine the direction of the 
 movement of the net. It seemed to be passing aft. 
 
 Followed by his junior, Hoffmann dashed out, 
 shouted quick orders to the fear-paralysed crew, 
 sprang up to the control platform. Fortunately for 
 the U-026, the dragnet had come in contact with the 
 nose and not the stern. As yet it was scraping only 
 over a part of the foredeck. The engines of the sub- 
 marine awoke — half speed astern! The bottom 
 bumped and grated on the sea floor. Every ear was 
 at strain to follow the scraping of those deadly steel 
 links, unseen, but vividly imagined, overhead. The 
 friction was quicker; they could hear the folds of the 
 net slipping. Hoffmann clanged the engine-room tel- 
 egraph. Full speed astern ! He ordered a deflection 
 of the horizontal rudders that inclined her, tail up, 
 nose down, from the sea bed. Overhead the steel 
 links rattled and slipped, sonorously metallic on the 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 239 
 
 deck. There was a last quick rush, and then silence, 
 save for the whir of the electric motors. For yet an 
 instant or two the backward run of the submarine 
 continued. The bows rose to a level keel. Then 
 Hoffmann switched her violently round to starboard, 
 clanged the telegraph to full speed ahead. As she 
 pitched and swung round, leaped forward, a violent 
 shock smote her, flung her over on one side, threw 
 every man on board off his feet. There was a muf- 
 fled detonation. 
 
 "Just In time I" cried Wohlslnger, as he picked 
 himself up. The submarine righted herself In heavy 
 rolls. All knew the meaning of the shock and deto- 
 nation. A charge of high explosive had been slid 
 down one of the hawsers of the dragnet. 
 "Quick!" shouted Hoffmann. "The oil I" 
 Wohlslnger leaped Into the Interior of the 
 vessel, ran to where the air-lock hatch protruded 
 slightly downward from the steel roof. It was the 
 means of escape in case of accident, but not of that 
 did the lieutenant think now. Summoned by his 
 orders, one man unscrewed the fastenings of the 
 hatch. Another opened a drum of oil. The hatch 
 was opened, the drum thrust In, the lock fastened 
 again. A lever was pulled, opening the outer lid. 
 Haply the keen-eyed foe above, searching the sea 
 for signs of his success, would perceive the air bub- 
 bles, the oil upon the surface. In face of this ac- 
 cepted evidence of their destruction, he might re- 
 nounce further efforts. 
 
240 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Ere Wohlsinger returned to his commander on 
 the control platform, he smiled grimly at the scared, 
 round face of the engineer thrust through the open 
 door of the bulkhead. He reassured him with a 
 word. 
 
 He found Hoffmann anxiously meditative. The 
 crux of his mental debate was the condition of the 
 weather. Was the gale continuing? Ignorant of 
 that, he could not be sure whether they had been 
 spotted from an aeroplane as they lay on the sea 
 bed, and their destruction deliberately planned, or 
 whether a sweeping dragnet had caught them in 
 blind chance. If aerial observation was possible, it 
 would be safer to lie on the bottom, simulating 
 wreck. If the gale continued, he could slip away 
 from this dangerous area, rise cautiously. It was 
 seven-thirty. In any case, he was due to communi- 
 cate with the commodore in half an hour. To do 
 this he must come to the surface. 
 
 The commander decided to risk the weather. Con- 
 sulting the chart, he set a course. Blindly, at fifteen 
 fathoms, the submarine ran on. 
 
 For twenty minutes her totally submerged prog- 
 ress continued in a direction that should take her 
 as far as possible from sight of land when emer- 
 gence became necessary. Then, in obedience to his 
 order, the deck inclined, bows up. She was rising. 
 He stationed himself at the periscope. 
 
 When he first looked he saw only dimly translu- 
 cent green; then quick, intermittent flashes of white 
 
THE SEA DEVIL £41 
 
 light; then a dark, vitreous, highly mobile surface 
 of water at close quarters, suddenly and completely 
 blotted out at intervals. Peering down into the 
 binoculars, his vision emerged into a pale-blue sky, 
 under which leaped, flashing and foaming, blue- 
 green waves whose tops were on a plane with his 
 sight. He turned the periscope by the side handles, 
 scanning the entire narrow horizon, sixty degrees 
 at a time. He saw neither sail nor smoke above the 
 leaping wave tops. Overhead? He could only hope 
 that the fresh wind kept the aeroplanes In their har- 
 bours. For a few minutes he held on cautiously just 
 below the surface. Then the U-026 rose, blowing 
 out her tanks. 
 
 As she rocked and pitched, light upon the waves, 
 her deck was busy with men rigging the aerials in 
 feverish haste. Hoffmann stood on top of the con- 
 ning tower, anxiously searching the distances. The 
 sea was empty, the sky also, the horizon misty. To 
 the east, the sky was bright with the coming sun. 
 He looked long and keenly at the southwest. There 
 was no sign of the smoke he looked for. 
 
 The minutes passed. He glanced at the aerials 
 now, humming like a harp in the wind. They should 
 be talking. But no messenger came to him. He was 
 already impatient when a man emerged from the cap 
 of the conning tower, saluted. 
 
 "The operator reports that no communication can 
 be made with the commodore, Herr Kapitan !*' 
 
 Wohlsinger, curious, had followed the man. His 
 
^42 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 eyes exchanged a significant comment with his su- 
 perior. 
 
 'Tell him to try again!" ordered Hoffmann 
 curtly. 
 
 The man disappeared, and the two officers waited. 
 But it was in vain. No contact could be established 
 with their consort. In a voice of ice-cold decision, 
 Hoffmann ordered the aerials to be taken down. 
 
 "Only we to stop her!" said Wohlsinger. His 
 tone, that implied the epitaph of the other boat, was 
 tinged with a doubt. 
 
 "It will be done," replied Hoffmann, with grim 
 emphasis. 
 
 Once more the diving tanks of the U-026 were 
 filled. Once more her hull sank below the waves, 
 only her periscope projecting. In the oval conning 
 tower, Hoffmann and Wohlsinger stood side by side, 
 peering into the binoculars. Her engines were run- 
 ning slow, keeping only enough way on her for steer- 
 age. They were on or near the course of the great 
 liner hurrying toward them, as yet unseen. At any 
 moment she might lift above the horizon. 
 
 Suddenly Hoffmann gave a quick turn to his peri- 
 scope. Some distance away on the port bow some- 
 thing emerged from the mist. It was a small steam 
 trawler, the red bottom under her bows lifting clear 
 out of the water as she rose to the waves. He con- 
 sidered her anxiously. An armed mine sweeper? 
 Heavily down at the stern with the weight of the 
 dragging trawl her appearance was peaceful enough. 
 
THE SEA DEVIL M^ 
 
 Apparently she was alone. She held on her course. 
 Hoffmann's mouth set tight. It was possible she 
 might not notice the periscope — or, if remarked, con- 
 sider them British. He resisted an impulse to dive. 
 The periscope swept round again. A low cry came 
 involuntarily from his lips. Away on the southwest 
 horizon was a heavy blur of dark smoke — ^the 
 Lithuania! 
 
 In compliance with his order, Wohlsinger leaped 
 down from the control platform, called for the tor- 
 pedo crews. They assembled at their stations, bow 
 and stern. A thrill of excitement pervaded the ves- 
 sel. Quick, loud voices — a merry laugh — came to 
 Hoffmann's ears as he gazed into the periscope, 
 watched the blur of smoke, ever more distinct. If 
 the liner held her course, she would cross his bows. 
 He began to calculate whether he should run for- 
 ward. His vision was annihilated with a loud crash 
 and a shock that numbed his arms from his grip 
 on the handles. 
 
 He sprang to the other periscope — saw a faint 
 spurt from the trawler, now very close — and that 
 periscope also was shattered. The third had been 
 caught and bent by the same shot. The U-026 was 
 blinded as a submarine. Hoffmann looked up, his 
 face set, his eyes ablaze. His brain worked with a 
 timeless speed. He shouted order upon order. The 
 needle of the depth Indicator dipped. The engines 
 hurried In a feverish whir. The U-026 swung 
 round, dived, dashed forward. The conning tower 
 
^44 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 was suddenly packed close with men who waited. 
 
 The commander stood, grim, calculating the sec- 
 onds. The thought to dive for escape did not so 
 much as occur to him. The great prey they had 
 already risked so much to await was rushing ever 
 nearer to them, coming on at the speed of a railway 
 train, unconscious — he prayed — of the danger. He 
 saw a swift fight with the trawler — haply alone — a 
 victory that would give him a few minutes' respite. 
 One last dive — the prey in flank — and then come 
 what would! So he saw, with narrowed eyes, into 
 the future. He shouted an order. 
 
 The blast of compressed air blew out the water 
 from the ballast tanks. Like a cork the submarine 
 shot straight to the surface. Ere the white light 
 flooded in through the plate-glass windows of the 
 conning tower, the hatch was unscrewed, the close- 
 packed men scrambling out above in furious haste. 
 
 The commander glanced through the windows at 
 his enemy. He had dived right under her, had come 
 up at a greater distance than before on her port 
 quarter. He saw the run of men on her deck, the 
 group round a weapon in the bows. She must turn 
 to use it. His own men were working like maniacs 
 at the fourteen-pounders fore and aft. Already both 
 guns were up from the wells that had contained 
 them. 
 
 The trawler brought her weapon to bear first — a 
 light quick-firer. It spat rapidly, viciously, and on 
 the instant his two fourteen-pounders replied with 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 245 
 
 sharp, splitting cracks. He saw the quick spurts of 
 explosions on the trawler's deck, saw her funnel sud- 
 denly awry — heard yells of pain from his forward 
 gun crew, the hammering of projectiles on the hull. 
 Fiercely rapid the interchange of shots continued 
 through immeasurable seconds. He saw that his 
 gunners were obeying orders — one gun firing at the 
 enemy's weapon, another at the trawler's hull. A 
 tangle of wrecked rigging fell over her side, but the 
 gun in the bows still spat. 
 
 He glanced at the approaching liner, now behind 
 him, over his left shoulder, startlingly close. Her 
 colossal bulk towered high from the water, the four 
 enormous red funnels glowed in the sun. He cursed 
 in an agony of impatience. She had changed her 
 course. Yet another few minutes and she would 
 escape. Far distant, on the port bow of the liner, 
 away from him, a smudge of smoke betrayed the 
 escorting destroyer. He looked again at the trawler 
 ' — saw the gun crew in her bows vanish — saw her 
 flank roll upward in a great cloud of steam. She 
 swung back in a return roll that did not cease. There 
 was a glint of red among a turmoil of water. Where 
 she had b,een was only a commotion of the waves. 
 
 ISlowl He glanced once more at his majestic prey. 
 She was about two miles distant — extreme range. 
 He must dive, dash forward at an angle to her 
 course. The orders were already on his lips when 
 a man leaned over the hatch of the conning tower. 
 
«46 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "We are badly hulled, Herr Kapitan ! The after 
 gun is out of action." 
 
 Hoffmann sprang up to look over the rim. He 
 saw a great gash aft. Each wave that splashed 
 upon her hull there was weakened, engulfed. 
 
 While he looked he heard the bow gun crack 
 rapidly behind him. He turned his head to see some- 
 thing rushing across the water at a tremendous 
 speed, hidden behind sheets of flying spray, coming 
 straight toward them. A shower of machine-gun 
 bullets whip-cracked around his head. Like some 
 fierce spirit of the sea, the spray-scattering craft 
 came on — zigzagging to avoid the shells that spouted 
 up all around her — bore down upon them with in- 
 credible velocity. He saw some of his gunners fall, 
 the gun fire again and again. He saw the great liner, 
 gleaming in the sun — three thousand yards away. 
 
 He dropped into the conning tower, a fierce re- 
 solve dominant. He could not dive. Come what 
 would, he would torpedo! He clanged the engine- 
 room telegraph — shouted an order to the steers- 
 man. He must get way on the boat. She could only 
 discharge her torpedoes directly fore or aft. She 
 lay now broadside on to her target, wallowing in 
 the waves. He shouted an order through the speak- 
 ing tube to the bow torpedo crew, gave a range. 
 Then he waited for the boat to turn. She did not 
 move. He saw, with fierce impatience, the liner 
 change her course a point or two to port — away. 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 247 
 
 The seconds were precious. Still the submarine wal- 
 lowed, broadside on. 
 
 Why had the engines stopped? He clanged the 
 telegraph again furiously and bent to peer through 
 the windows at his prey. Behind him he was con- 
 scious of a rush of men who clambered through the 
 hatch. A hail of machine-gun bullets beat on the 
 wall. He turned in mad anger, seized a pair of 
 dangling legs, pulled them down. A white-faced, 
 panic-stricken man panted in front of him, stammer- 
 ingly answered his passionate question: 
 
 *'Der Oher-Ingenieur! Der Oher-Ingenieur F* 
 
 The commander released him, sprang to the 
 hatchway, looked out. He saw, on a deck littered 
 with bodies, Ober-Ingenieur Wolff standing with a 
 white handkerchief fluttering from his outstretched 
 hand. He heard an agonised voice shriek: ^'Ret- 
 tung! Rettung! Kamerad! KameradF^ He saw 
 the hydroplane motor boat swing round alongside 
 with a great swash of water that leaped over the 
 deck of the submarine. *^Kamerad! Kamerad!*' 
 shrieked the engineer. 
 
 He glanced toward the liner. She had turned her 
 stern toward him, was already out of range. 
 
 Kapitan Leutnant Hoffmann dropped down to the 
 control platform once more. His face was set in 
 the grimness of a judge who condemns. "One min- 
 ute more, and we should have got her!" beat in his 
 brain, remorselessly reiterated. 
 
 He shouted into the interior of the submarine: 
 
248 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Abandon ship I" He waited, grim and silent, while 
 the men rushed up, clambered into safety. Wohl- 
 singer pressed his hand speechlessly as he passed. 
 The last man gone, the commander pulled a lever. 
 Then he, too, scrambled out. 
 
 Quiet, self-controlled, he walked along the deck 
 to where the motor boat lay, her crew grinning. He 
 saluted her commander, a lad in oilskins. 
 
 "I am your prisoner, sir," he said in perfect Eng- 
 lish. 
 
 The survivors of the crew were already on board 
 the motor boat. Ober-Ingenieur Wolff sat in the 
 stern sheets, his face like cheese, his eyes fixed on 
 his commander. 
 
 "Look out!" shouted some one in the motor boat. 
 The U-026 was sinking fast. The Englishmen who 
 had boarded her leaped back to safety. There was 
 a gurgle of water over her deck. The German com- 
 mander sprang on board the hydroplane, just in 
 time. The little craft sheered off, tossed in a tur- 
 moil of waves. 
 
 Kapitan Leutnant Hoffmann quietly took a re- 
 volver from his pocket, looked Ober-Ingenieur 
 Wolff between the eyes, and shot him dead. 
 
 Some two hours later, Hoffmann, prim and digni- 
 fied, sat in the rear seat of a motor car that sped 
 through the streets of Liverpool. On one side of 
 him was Wohlsinger, contentedly smoking a cigar; 
 on the other, a British officer. Hoffmann was im- 
 
THE SEA DEVIL 249 
 
 pelled to speech, feeling it incumbent upon him to 
 unbend graciously. 
 
 "It is fortunate for you that your great ship es- 
 caped, sir," he said. 
 
 "Oh, yes," the British boy answered in a casual 
 tone. "The underwriters would have been very sick 
 if you had got her. You had a jolly sporting try, 
 anyway," he added, in really sympathetic consola- 
 tion. 
 
 Hoffmann stared, not quite understanding. 
 
 "But her cargo — you would be starving in a fort- 
 night, would you not?" 
 
 "Oh, rot!" said the boy. He waved his hand, 
 indicating the busy life of the street. "Do we look 
 like it? Everybody has to be beastly careful, of 
 course — but starvation!" He laughed. "Bally 
 rot!" 
 
 Hoffmann looked at the well-filled shops, the 
 throngs of well-dressed women, the laughing chil- 
 dren playing on their way from school — and he sud- 
 denly saw the pinched crowd shouting them off near 
 the docks at Wllhelmshaven. He passed his hand 
 over his eyes, shutting out a sudden doubt of the 
 indubitable. No — it could not be — the Fatherland 
 must winl 
 
IX 
 
 THE IRON CROSS 
 
 IT was blue twilight in the wide sandy trench. 
 Little groups of German soldiers moved about 
 freely, chattered and laughed without the least re- 
 straint on their voices. Some of them emerged from 
 or disappeared into dugouts in the base of the para- 
 pet, but the majority of the inhabitants of the trench 
 had evidently abandoned their cave dwellings for the 
 primitive lean-to shelters — a sheet of corrugated 
 iron or a few boards which partially roofed the 
 trench here and there. More complete protection 
 was superfluous in this Russian summer. 
 
 Under them men divested of accoutrement sat 
 watching the cooking pots on fires which smoked 
 with impunity into the clear sky. No sound of gun 
 or rifle disturbed the evening stillness. Only the 
 sentries standing on the fire step at long intervals 
 from each other, in a languid observation of a land- 
 scape invisible from the bottom of the trench, were 
 evidence that this was the front line, that an enemy 
 was in proximity. 
 
 A soldier with a packet of letters in his hand ap- 
 proached a group which had plenished its mess tins 
 
 250 
 
THE IRON CROSS 251 
 
 from the cooking pot and with Teutonic avidity was 
 severally intent upon the serious business of food. 
 The half dozen faces looked up in a sudden trans- 
 formation to eager intelligence. 
 
 ^Thepost!" 
 
 One of the men sprang up and hurried toward the 
 soldier. 
 
 "Is there one for me?" His tone was so plain- 
 tively anxious that the rest of the group burst into 
 laughter. 
 
 'Ei, SalzmannI You'll know soon enough that 
 the Schdtzchen has thrown you over!" "He's afraid 
 some one has told her about him I" "That's what 
 going home on leave does for you, Salzmann ! You 
 get caught by a girl, and then no more peace of 
 mind I" "Don't give him his letters until the last, 
 Mayer!" 
 
 Ribald variations upon the theme of the foolishly 
 enamoured followed in a rivalry of coarse sol- 
 datesque wit, each trying to think of some more 
 comic allusion than his neighbour. Salzmann, a 
 blond, simple-faced young man, whose eyes were 
 wide in a permanent expression of alarm, was the 
 habitual butt of his squad; his betrothal when last on 
 leave was a novel and still unexhausted source of 
 mocking gaiety. He hurried now at the side of the 
 approaching postman, imploring a sight of the let- 
 ters, which was grinningly refused. 
 
 "One for you, Mendell!" said the soldier, sorting 
 out his packet. "Two for you, Schmidt! Here, 
 
252 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Griinbaum I" He pushed the eagerly clutching Salz- 
 mann to one side. "Wait !" he said roughly. "Here, 
 Burger I Weissenbach!" He distributed the letters ; 
 stood with empty hands. 
 
 "None for me!" cried Salzmann in such forlorn 
 disappointment that his comrades laughed again. 
 
 "For you?" said the postman, as if trying to re- 
 member. His face was perfectly serious, his wink 
 of Intelligence to the others almost imperceptible. 
 They rocked in their mirth. "Yes — I think there 
 was one for you. I must have lost it." 
 
 "Give it me! Give it me!" cried Salzmann al- 
 most tearfully, like a child whose plaything Is with- 
 held by a teasing senior. 
 
 The soldier made a show of going through his 
 pockets. 
 
 "I certainly had It," he said. "No; nothing here." 
 Pocket after pocket was examined. He came to the 
 last. "Ah ! Is this It?" He produced a letter. "Jo- 
 hann Salzmann? Yes; this must be yours!" 
 
 Salzmann snatched It from him with an angry 
 curse, which added to the merriment of his comrades. 
 
 There was a silence while the group perused their 
 correspondence. Salzmann left the circle to seat 
 himself upon a balk of timber where he could read 
 his precious letter in quiet. 
 
 *^Lieher Johann/^ it ran, "I am shame-red to write 
 you this letter." The soldier's eyes opened a shade 
 wider, his jaw dropped at this Inauspicious begin- 
 ning. He read on, tortured by apprehension. "The 
 
THE IRON CROSS 25B 
 
 Lomenwirfs ^ Franz is back In the village and is no 
 more a soldier. Since he lost his right arm they let 
 him go. The Lowenwirt and my father have been 
 laying their heads together and they want me to 
 marry Franz. The Lowenwirt wants to hand over 
 the inn to Franz and me. Lieher Johann, I do not 
 want to do this, for Franz has only one arm and 
 cannot even dress himself properly, but he has the 
 Iron Cross and everybody says he is a hero. My 
 father says I ought to be proud to marry him, for, 
 except the Schdfer^s Reinhart, Franz is the only man 
 alive of the village who has the Iron Cross. Father 
 says he cannot understand why you, who have been 
 at the Front so long, have not won the Iron Cross." 
 
 Salzmann's expression changed slightly as he re- 
 called the dour old miller, who had himself been 
 decorated in the war of 1870. 
 
 "The parson preached a sermon last Sunday when 
 Franz came back to the village and he said that the 
 Iron Cross was the symbol of the iron but modest 
 bravery of the German people, and that every Ger- 
 man soldier ought to have one. My father was 
 there and he said afterward that every German sol- 
 dier who had just done his duty had got one ; that it 
 was not like the days of 1870, when you had to do 
 something fine to win it, and that it was a disgrace 
 
 ^ Lowenwirt— the keeper of the Lion Inn. The innkeeper is a 
 person of much importance in German village communities. He 
 is never referred to by his own name, but always as the keeper 
 of such and such a house — the Lowenwirt, the Sonnenwirt, and 
 so on. 
 
264 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 not to have one, and that he would not marry his 
 daughter to a man who had been all through the 
 war and was not decorated. So, lieber Johann, you 
 must win the Iron Cross quickly, because they say 
 the war is going to end, and my ^ather will marry 
 me to Franz almost at once." 
 
 **Ach! Vngliicklicherr^ exclaimed Salzmann In a 
 tone of heartfelt self-commiseration. Long hum- 
 bled as he had been by the scorn of his quick-witted 
 comrades he was Intelligent enough to appreciate his 
 betrothed's naive recommendation as a bitter irony. 
 
 The Iron Cross! He had no illusions as to his 
 own military virtues; was. In fact, emphatically cer- 
 tain that nothing would induce him to risk his skin 
 beyond the common everyday perils he could not es- 
 cape. In battle his one thought was to get into a 
 place of safety as soon as possible. No one looked 
 for deeds of valour from him; least of all, himself. 
 He was forced on by an even greater fear than that 
 which he stumbled to encounter — the fear of his offi- 
 cer's pistol, of certain death If he wavered. As for 
 awarding him the Iron Cross, the entire battalion 
 would have shouted with laughter at the mere sug- 
 gestion. He was only too acutely aware of it. The 
 pitiful swagger with which he bragged of his ability 
 to look after himself was the last cloak he could 
 wrap about his ragged self-esteem. 
 
 If the miller's Gretel could be won only by the 
 Iron Cross, then his suit was hopeless. And It was 
 such a splendid mill I How often had he visualised 
 
THE IRON CROSS 255 
 
 himself as the flour-dusty proprietor — for surely 
 Gretel would inherit — smoking the long pipe of 
 worthy contentment on the little bench which over- 
 looked the dripping water wheel, indefatigable in 
 grinding out wealth for him! Gretel was pretty, 
 too, and her simple-minded pride in her soldier lover 
 had been particularly precious to him. He sighed 
 heavily as he renounced all this. The Iron Cross I 
 He cursed bitterly and comprehensively. 
 
 His gloomy disappointment was relieved only by 
 his betrothed's mention of an early peace. He seized 
 on that hopefully. Certainly the fighting here had 
 long since ceased. Up to a week before, the Rus- 
 sian soldiers had been fraternizing between the lines. 
 Since, though they had remained in their trenches, 
 no shot had been fired. Possibly a general peace was 
 really in discussion; 191 4, 191 5, 191 6, 19 17 — ^the 
 whole world must be as tired of this as he was. 
 Gretel or no Gretel, it was something to come out 
 of it alive I He cheerfully abandoned the Iron Cross 
 in the prospect. 
 
 At this point the course of his meditation was in- 
 terrupted. The wail of an approaching shell star- 
 tled the entire trenchful of idling men; sent them 
 dashing to cover as its note changed to the hissing 
 rush of its arrival. It burst with a metallic crash. 
 Before their ears had lost the sound the wail of a 
 second shell rapidly descended from its distant high 
 note to the ugly menace of its fall, the viciously vio- 
 
256 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 lent detonation of its impact. A third— and a 
 fourth ! 
 
 What was happening? The German soldiers, 
 habituated to the informal truce, asked each other 
 the question angrily, wild-eyed. In a telephone dug- 
 out an artillery officer spoke irritably to his battery: 
 
 "X 25; C 2, 4. These people are forgetting 
 themselves. Give them a dozen rounds battery fire." 
 
 A moment or two later a run of dull reports be- 
 hind them told of the answer of the guns. Almost 
 simultaneously with the sound the shells rushed over- 
 head, one after the other at the briefest interval, 
 vindictively hastening to silence this presumptuous 
 Russian battery. That battery, however, declined 
 to be overawed. Its shells continued to fall in the 
 trench or its near vicinity, arriving with a deliberate 
 regularity which hinted at a definite purpose. 
 
 Other batteries, veiled in the deepening dusk of 
 the east, awoke as if in sympathy, their quickly reit- 
 erated reports strangely impressive after the silence 
 which had been maintained so long. Their shells 
 fell more and more frequently over a fairly wide 
 sector of the trenches. The German battery having 
 discharged its dozen rounds cease4 fire. But the 
 bombardment of the trenches continued, became 
 more and more intense. It was as heavy a bom- 
 bardment as the poorly supplied Russian artillery 
 could ever pretend to. 
 
 In his dugout the battalion commander, annoyed 
 and puzzled by this unexpected revival of an enemy 
 
THE IRON CROSS 257 
 
 he had grown accustomed almost to ignore, took 
 counsel with the artillery officer. 
 
 **What are they playing at?'* he asked. "Surely 
 they can't be going to attack!" 
 
 "Probably they have found a few rounds of am- 
 munition and are getting rid of it, Herr Major** 
 replied the artillery officer. "They can't keep it up 
 long, for they certainly cannot have much. As for 
 attack" — he laughed contemptuously — "the Russian 
 infantry will not attack again in this war." 
 
 *^Gewiss nicht/* agreed the major. "Only a week 
 ago they were out between the trenches selling their 
 rifles to our men. But still" — he stopped for a mo- 
 ment, listening to the persistent slamming of the 
 Russian guns, the heavy crashes of the repeated shell 
 bursts near at hand — "this sounds as though they 
 meant something." 
 
 "I will soon stop it," said the artillery officer, 
 picking up the telephone. "Hello I Give me artil- 
 lery headquarters. . . . Hello! . . . Eh? . . . Yes; 
 speaking. . . . Yes ; that is just what I was going to 
 speak to you about. They've gone mad, I think. . . . 
 Oh, all right, I'll speak to the OberstJ* His tone 
 changed to one of subservient respect. "/^, Herr 
 Oberst, almost all their batteries firing. . . . No, I 
 don't think so. They have lost their heads over 
 something. I suggest a drastic lesson, Herr Oberst. 
 Show them our guns are still here. , , . Ja, ja — 
 famos! A few salvos on the trenches might be use- 
 ful — ^make trouble between their infantry and their 
 
258 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 gunners. Jch-jawohir He laughed. 'Tortrefflich! 
 Gute Nacht, Herr OherstT 
 
 He put down the receiver and turned to the bat- 
 talion commander. 
 
 "You are going to see the surprise of your life, 
 Herr Major, Every gun weVe got. Let them have 
 It all at once. Teach them politeness. They will not 
 worry you again for a long time." 
 
 "Good," said the battalion commander. "But I 
 hope they are not going to attack. The sector Is very 
 thinly held." 
 
 The artillery officer laughed. 
 
 "Their generals may order an attack, Herr Ma- 
 jor, but their men simply refuse to fight. WeVe 
 seen it often enough. Of course," he added In a 
 tone of mockery, "there's that battalion of women 
 which has been parading Petrograd; perhaps they 
 are going to try with that?" 
 
 Both officers laughed at this reduction to absurd- 
 ity. For a long time the chief danger from the Rus- 
 sian Army had been excessive fraternisation. The 
 German authorities were very nervous of the an- 
 archic propaganda enthusiastically preached by the 
 Russian soldiers, however contemptuous they might 
 be of them in other respects. Every German officer 
 on the sector had been glad of the recent cessation 
 of Intercourse. 
 
 The fighting power of the Russian Army was 
 notoriously a thing of the past. This fantastic bom- 
 
THE IRON CROSS 259 
 
 bardment was merely another symptom of the mad- 
 ness to which It had succumbed. 
 
 The two officers listened for the opening of their 
 own artillery. 
 
 In a dugout of the trench parapet Salzmann In- 
 terrogated his companions between the crashes of 
 the Russian shells. 
 
 *'What Is It?" he cried. "Are they going to at- 
 tack? I thought they had no more shells? The 
 Leutnant said so the other day! Ach! There's an- 
 other! Where did that one go? That's In the 
 trench, that one! Do you think they are going to 
 attack, Weissenbach? 
 
 **NaturlichF* said Weissenbach, grinning at his 
 companions despite the uneasiness which they all felt. 
 "Haven't you heard about it? This is the prelim- 
 inary bombardment for a great offensive. The Rus- 
 sians are going to bombard us for a week like this 
 and then they are going to march through to Berlin 
 and set up a republic like their own. The muzhiks 
 were all talking about it last week; nicht wahr, you 
 others?" 
 
 There was a chorus of laughing assent. 
 
 **Ach!'* cried Salzmann In genuine alarm. "They 
 can do what they like about their republic; It's all 
 one to me. But bombard us like this for a week I 
 Aher, Weissenbach," he said with serious solemnity, 
 "we shall all be killed!" 
 
 The others forgot the bombardment in their 
 laughter. Salzmann was priceless. 
 
260 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 *'More than that," cried Griinbaum; '*the Haupt- 
 mann said he was going to see to it that this time 
 Salzmann won the Iron Cross — or was killed in the 
 attempt. He says it's a disgrace to the regiment that 
 a man who has been in it since 19 14 has not won the 
 cross. So you are certainly going to get the Iron 
 Cross, Salzmann; or else a wooden one!" 
 
 The squad shouted with delight, all eagerly cor- 
 roborating this happy invention, adding confirma- 
 tory details. 
 
 **To the devil with the Iron Cross!'* cried their 
 butt, frantic with fear at the possibilities which 
 opened up before him. He broke into a flood of 
 foul curses, in which the Hauptmann, his comrades, 
 their decorations, were all equally vituperated. 
 
 His tormentors wiped tears of laughter from their 
 eyes. Suddenly they ceased in their mirth, looked 
 up, startled. 
 
 "Listen!" cried some one. 
 
 In one long rolling crash hundreds of guns had 
 opened fire, were maintaining it in rapid repetition. 
 Overhead, flights of shells howled on their way to 
 the Russians. 
 
 "Our guns!" cried another in relief. "The 
 muzhiks will soon remember they have an appoint- 
 ment to make a speech at their Soviet!" 
 
 ^^GewissF* said a third. "Besides, they can't have 
 much more ammunition." 
 
 "So long as they cease shelling!" cried Salzmann, 
 
THE IRON CROSS 261 
 
 who had retreated to the farthest corner of the 
 dugout 
 
 But though the thunder of the German guns con- 
 tinued unabated, the stream of their projectiles tear- 
 ing across the sky undiminished, the Russian bat- 
 teries still persisted in their fire. The crashes of 
 their shells followed one another with unfailing reg- 
 ularity. 
 
 The din of these warring artilleries had lasted for 
 some time when suddenly whistles shrilled in the 
 trench above. The group in the dugout looked at 
 each other in surprise. It was the alarm I 
 
 "An attack!" cried some one. "After all I 
 HerauSy Salzmann! Go out for your Iron Cross!" 
 
 The speaker saw to it that the unhappy Salzmann 
 cleared out with the rest, and amid renewed laughter 
 the squad scrambled up the stairway into the trench. 
 
 It was now quite dark, a night of stars. The Rus- 
 sian shells were still bursting round in sudden 
 splashes of red flame, despite a most furious can- 
 nonade from the German artillery working fren- 
 ziedly to beat down the hostile fire. To the east 
 the dark horizon was lit by the frequent leaping 
 reflections from the Russian guns. But on the sky 
 behind the men now lining the trench there was no 
 interval in the illumination from the ceaseless dis- 
 charges. Both artilleries were working at their full 
 power and the disproportion between their strengths 
 was comfortingly obvious to the German soldiers. 
 
 They sprang with alacrity to their positions of 
 
S^ ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 •defence. The machine-gun crews joked as they 
 opened their boxes of ammunition and fitted the 
 belts. Grenades were served out lavishly. There 
 ^was a clicking of rifle bolts. Flares began to soar 
 \ip along the line of trenches. A searchlight wav- 
 ered for a moment, flickered, was extinguished, shot 
 out its beam of light again in a swinging arc, disap- 
 peared. The deafening crash and roll of the artil- 
 lery fire seemed to increase permanently as it leaped 
 to paroxysms of vehemence. 
 
 Salzmann found himself on the fire step, rifle ready 
 to his hand, gazing out across the neutral ground. 
 Over the Russian trenches the shrapnel twinkled 
 incessantly. Founts of bright flame sprang up from 
 the impact of high-explosive shells upon the enemy 
 works, the crash of their detonation distinctly audi- 
 ble through the din. Half paralysed by the fear of 
 the shrapnel which cracked and moaned above his 
 head also, he stared into the night, agonising for 
 his first perception of the dim human flood which 
 would presently surge against him. He remembered 
 sickeningly the terrible bayonets of a Russian charge. 
 Several times already in his experience he had es- 
 caped them only by a miracle, had heard the death 
 shrieks of his less fortunate comrades. He fin- 
 gered his trigger nervously, ready to fire at the first 
 sign of the enemy, straining his sight into the radi- 
 ance of the falling flares. 
 
 *^Sie kommenr shouted some one a little farther 
 along the trench. He heard the curt commands of 
 
THE IRON CROSS «6S 
 
 the officers behind him, the final order. In one 
 simultaneous crash a long coruscation of short stab- 
 bing flames leaped from the parapet, a crash that 
 resolved itself into the tireless hammering of ma- 
 chine guns, the irregular reports of rifles; now swell- 
 ing as they chanced to coalesce, now scattered indi- 
 vidually in rapid independent fire. 
 
 Salzmann pulled trigger with the others, though 
 at first he could discern no target. A whelm of 
 shell smoke overlay the neutral ground, thickened 
 the obscurity of the ni^t, swallowed the flares 
 as they fell. Into that smother plunged an un- 
 ceasing rain of German shells that lit luridly for 
 a brief instant ere they added to the rolling fumes. 
 The Russian batteries hurled shell after shell be- 
 hind him, apparently lengthening their range. 
 
 From that bank of smoke came at last a tumult 
 of voices, shouts and cheers that overpowered the 
 shriek of sudden agony. Curiously high pitched, 
 these voices. 
 
 "They must be boys," thought Salzmann as he 
 fired toward the sound. The shouts and cheers con- 
 tinued, swelled louder despite the chaos of brutally 
 violent noise, thudding, crashing, hammering, every 
 kind of explosion, which erupted on that dark coun- 
 tryside and rolled under the stars. These voices 
 of human creatures, dwarfed but undaunted in this 
 immense fury of pitiless destruction, persisted, not 
 to be hushed, curiously impressive. 
 
 Suddenly they emerged from the smoke, shadowy 
 
264i ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 but startllngly close; a crowd of running figures 
 whose faces were plucked into a momentary vivid- 
 ness by near flashes, their bayonets silhouetted above 
 their heads, dark against the sky. They raced to- 
 ward him with such fierce determination that those 
 who fell were lost out of memory in an instant, 
 their places filled. Their piercing cries, their high- 
 pitched cheers had an uncanny suggestion of the 
 unfamiliar, a hint of the spectral, which sent a 
 spasm of wild alarm through Salzmann's unsteady 
 nerves. 
 
 "Boys!" he cried, to reassure himself. 
 
 The guttural exclamations of the German soldiers 
 firing furiously into the mass were comforting in 
 their normality. Despite the blast of rifle fire from 
 the parapet, the incessant explosions of the shells 
 in the neutral ground, the shadowy figures came 
 rapidly nearer through moments that were long as 
 hours. Never had Salzmann seen such a formida- 
 ble charge ; its swift, unchecked approach in the face 
 of that devastating fire was a miracle that, accom- 
 panied by the wild phantasmal treble of its tumult 
 of cheers, appalled him with a vague, superstitious 
 fear. He fired his rifle into it desperately, yet with- 
 out hope of staying it. 
 
 Another anxiety re-enforced his dread. The wire I 
 It had been cut to allow passage for the men fra- 
 ternizing with the Russians, and had not been re- 
 paired; partly because of the paucity of available 
 labour on this thinly held sector, partly because the 
 
THE IRON CROSS 265 
 
 effort was thought to be unnecessary. The last of 
 his confidence forsook him with the realisation. In 
 another instant the mysterious attackers were surg- 
 ing up against the parapet, were upon him. 
 
 He fired his rifle once more into a face he saw 
 with the flash to be beardless. Then the man on 
 his right shrieked as a dark figure on the parapet 
 plunged its bayonet downward. In the same frac- 
 tion of a second he saw a sliver of steel dart at his 
 own breast as he stood exposed, recoiling in terror. 
 In one instinctive movement he dropped his rifle, 
 leaped backward into the trench, fled. Behind him 
 the high-pitched voices shrilled out, demoniac, domi- 
 nating the suddenly vehement guttural curses in an 
 inferno of detonations. 
 
 He dashed along the trench, noting unconsciously 
 the wide-spaced figures of the defenders, still crouch- 
 ing as they gazed along the sights or wrestling body 
 to body with dark figures that overtopped them. At 
 the mouth of the communication trench he was auto- 
 matically seeking he saw his ofiicer. In a spasm of 
 horror, too late for defence, he saw the officer's 
 hand jerk up, the pistol point. The flash and crack 
 were simultaneous. Missed! He dodged, flung 
 himself headlong into the communication trench. As 
 he sprawled he heard the death yell of the officer. 
 
 On his feet again he raced along the communica- 
 tion trench blindly, like a hunted animal. He met 
 no one. Every available man was in the fire trench. 
 There were no supports, he knew well; no adjacent 
 
^66 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 reserves. The sector had been stripped to send re- 
 enforcements to Flanders. He might get clear away. 
 The possibility invigorated him. A deafening crash 
 just at his right renewed his alarm, quickened his 
 mad flight. Those cursed Russian batteries were 
 still firing, were putting down a screen of shells be- 
 hind the fight. Crash followed crash. He ran on. 
 
 He emerged into an empty support trench and 
 turned to follow it. A sheet of red flame sprang 
 up from the lip of its trace. He half-heard a shat- 
 tering roar. 
 
 When his eyes opened he saw that the trench was 
 filled with men. He staggered to his feet ; noted, as 
 his first sensation, an impressive unbroken quiet that 
 contrasted with something. He remembered; took 
 in the situation. The Russians were in possession 
 of the front trenches. This was the counter attack, 
 ready to spring. Both artilleries had paused. In 
 another moment, perhaps, the battle would com- 
 mence again. He glanced along the rank of men. 
 There was no escape. He was trapped. He re- 
 signed himself hopelessly, trying to think of a plausi- 
 ble excuse to account for himself. 
 
 Two oflicers walked up toward him in deep con- 
 versation. Despite the gloom he recognised one of 
 them. It was the Oberst commanding the sector. 
 The other was evidently the leader of the troops 
 about to counter attack. They stopped by the mouth 
 of the communication trench. 
 
 "I can't understand it at all," said the Oberst. 
 
THE IRON CROSS 26T 
 
 "Who are these people? They are certainly not the 
 Infantry usually on this sector.'* 
 
 "New troops evidently, Herr Oh erst" said the 
 other, suavely concurring with his superior. There 
 was, nevertheless, a note of anxiety in his voice. 
 
 "None of our people seem to have escaped," pur- 
 sued the Oberst, tapping irritably with the toe of his 
 boot upon the earth. He frowned round him. "All 
 killed or prisoners." He caught sight of Salzmann. 
 "Who are you?" he asked with sudden brutality. 
 
 Salzmann quivering with terror stood sharply to 
 attention as he named his regiment. 
 
 *'Sof* said the Oherst with quickened interest. 
 He turned to the other officer. "Here is a survivor, 
 Brunnendorf !" He reverted to the trembling man. 
 "What happened? Who are these Russians? Why 
 are you here?" he questioned angrily. 
 
 Salzmann launched out into a long, incoherent 
 story, in which it was only clear that he had seen 
 the attack, that he thought they were boys, and that 
 a shell had knocked him senseless. The Oherst eyed 
 him with frowning suspicion. 
 
 *'Genugr* he interrupted harshly. Salzmann 
 ceased to stammer; stood shaking with apprehen- 
 sion. The Oherst pondered a moment, then looked 
 at his watch. Once more he turned to the soldier. 
 
 "Your name and number?" he snapped. 
 
 Salzmann gave them, feeling that his fate was 
 sealed. 
 
 "Note them, Brunnendorf !" said the Oherst to 
 
268 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the other officer. "Now, my man, go into the front 
 trench and find out who those people are! Bring 
 me back an identity disk or something of the sort. 
 You have Rve minutes. At the end of that time our 
 artillery will commence its bombardment. If you 
 succeed you shall have the Iron Cross. If you fail 
 you will be shot for deserting your post! You un- 
 derstand?" Salzmann's mouth opened, moved, but 
 emitted no sound. "Go!" 
 
 Salzmann saluted speechlessly. 
 
 As he disappeared the officer in command of the 
 counter attack smiled grimly. 
 
 "They have killed every one of my reconnoitering 
 parties, Herr Oberst/^ he said. 
 
 The Oherst shrugged his shoulders and proceeded 
 to detail his arrangements for supporting the attack. 
 
 Salzmann crept along the empty communication 
 trench, his mouth dry, shaking in every limb. At 
 each bend in the serpentine course of the trench he 
 hesitated, pressed close, hands outsplayed, against 
 the wall. Beyond? Only the fear, the certainty, 
 of that dreadful firing party drove him forward. 
 He had one forlorn chance. He murmured it to 
 himself desperately between his gusts of panic. If 
 only he could find a dead Russian! 
 
 Cautiously he stole round a curve of the trench. 
 Then before he could make a movement or utter 
 a sound a couple of dark figures leaped at him, a 
 terrible clutch fastened itself on his throat, bore 
 him backward to the ground. Choking, seeing the 
 
THE IRON CROSS 269 
 
 stars sway in the sky as he stared upward, he felt 
 a heavy weight on his chest. One of the figures had 
 seated himself on him. He felt a smaller area of 
 pressure over his heart, and then the point of a 
 knife sharply penetrating his skin. His scream of 
 terror was only a gurgle under that clutch on his 
 throat. But the point came no deeper, remained an 
 acute tiny prick threatening his life. Almost faint- 
 ing he heard a whispered conversation. He guessed 
 its purport, agonised for the decision. Before he 
 realised that it was made he found a gag stuffed 
 into his mouth, felt himself vigorously turned over 
 onto his face, his hands drawn back and securely tied 
 behind him. He made not the least resistance. 
 
 "Up!" whispered an earnest voice in German. 
 "Silence!" 
 
 He struggled awkwardly to his feet and looked 
 at his captors. They also were the beardless boys 
 he had seen rushing to the storm of the parapet. 
 Too bewildered to give more than a passing thought 
 to their youth, he felt himself pushed forward by a 
 firm grip on the back of his collar. He went do- 
 cilely, one only of his captors accompanying him. 
 
 They passed quickly down the communication 
 trench and turned into the familiar front line. A 
 number of busy figures thronged it, strengthening 
 the parados, adjusting machine guns, making ready 
 to repel the certain attack. His brain still numbed 
 with terror he scarcely noticed them. Suddenly his 
 captor halted before the mouth of a dugout and 
 
270 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 thrust him down the steep steps. He stumbled with 
 uncertain equilibrium into a little square cave lit 
 by a candle on a table. His captor, still maintain- 
 ing his grasp, followed. 
 
 Three young men — officers evidently — ^were 
 seated at that table. They looked up at his entrance 
 and nodded to the salute of his captor. They were 
 very young — not one had so much as a wisp of 
 moustache — but their expression was both intelligent 
 and determined. All three had laid aside their caps, 
 and the close crop of their hair, revealing the power- 
 ful conformation of the skull, lent a certain naked 
 force to their aspect. 
 
 The soldier reported in Russian, unintelligible to 
 Salzmann. 
 
 One of the officers — he noted that it was a cap- 
 tain — nodded understanding with a smile, replied 
 rapidly in his incomprehensible Russian, finished in 
 the tone of an order. He felt fingers behind his 
 head; the gag was whipped off. The captain 
 frowned at him. 
 
 "What regiment are you?" he asked sternly in 
 his boyish voice. His German was excellently pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 Salzmann stammered out the information, finish- 
 ing with an obsequious *^Herr HauptmannJ* 
 
 *'Sof And your errand?" 
 
 Salzmann hesitated for a moment while he en- 
 deavoured to decide whether he should tell the truth 
 or invent a story. 
 
THE IRON CROSS 271 
 
 "Answer!" The captain produced a big auto- 
 matic pistol and dangled It in his hand. His eyes 
 were affrightlngly stern. "Quick, or " 
 
 He raised the pistol till Salzmann found himself 
 staring fascinated into the little round black hole 
 of the muzzle. 
 
 "I — I came to reconnoitre, Herr Hauptmann,* 
 he said hurriedly. This uncompromising young of- 
 ficer evidently belonged to the genuine caste, obedi- 
 ence to which was an unquestioned Instinct. "The 
 Oh erst sent me " 
 
 "Go on!" The officer tapped Impatiently on the 
 table with his left hand, that terrible pistol still 
 poised in his right. 
 
 " — — to find out what regiment it was that at- 
 tacked, Herr Hauptmann/^ The sweat was pearling 
 on his forehead. 
 
 The captain exchanged a smile with his officers. 
 The smile, curiously enigmatic, It seemed to Salz- 
 mann, was still upon his face as he turned again to 
 the prisoner. 
 
 "I am afraid you will not have the honour of re- 
 porting to him," he said with a subtle mockery in 
 his clear, level voice, "that it was the Battalion of 
 Death — the women's battalion — which captured his 
 trenches." 
 
 "Women!" Salzmann stared in amazement. 
 These boys — women ! *^Du lieber GottP* 
 
 The smile on the captain's face broadened at the 
 na'iVete of his exclamation. 
 
^72 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Yes — women!" There was a certain pride in 
 the utterance. 
 
 Salzmann stared into the officer's face, forgetting 
 the pistol, forgetting his position in his curiosity. 
 Yes — it was a woman's face that looked into his, a 
 woman's face of soft curves, of eyes that changed 
 expression at every instant. He took a long breath 
 of relief, smiled fatuously. He always felt himself 
 very much at ease with women; had many conquests, 
 of a sort, to set off against his humiliations in the 
 world of men. He smirked, ventured an ironical 
 compliment, an awkward bow. 
 
 "Women ! — Gratuliere, gnddige FrauF^ 
 
 "Silence !" The voice was not less stern because 
 it was feminine. Salzmann's new-found assurance 
 vanished in a spasm of alarm. That terrible pistol 
 still covered him. "Answer my questions 1" 
 
 **Ja, Herr — Frau — Hauptmannr^ he stumbled, 
 uncertain of the correct designation. 
 
 There was no longer any smile on the face of 
 the amazon. 
 
 "Your troops are going to counter attack?" she 
 queried. 
 
 **Ja, Herr HauptmannF* He decided that the 
 masculine title was more polite. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "I don't know!" The lie had slipped out un- 
 consciously; the result of a lifelong habit of care- 
 lessness with the truth. His own words were a 
 
THE IRON CROSS ^S 
 
 shock to him. This was dangerous. But, once uU 
 tered, he must stick to his assertion. 
 
 "You don't know?'* 
 
 "No, I swear it, Herr Hauptmannf*^ He agon- 
 ised at the least movement of the hand that held 
 the pistol. 
 
 The captain turned to her companion and con- 
 ferred for a moment in Russian. Then she ad- 
 dressed herself to his captor — "A woman, also,^ 
 lieber GottF* thought Salzmann. The soldier — she 
 was little more than a girl — had been standing stiffly 
 in silence during this colloquy. She now saluted in 
 precise military fashion, turned and went out of the 
 dugout. Salzmann heard her heavily booted tread 
 ascending the stairway. 
 
 The captain resumed her Interrogation. 
 
 "What troops are there on this sector?" she de- 
 manded. 
 
 Salzmann gave the information as accurately as 
 he could, warily avoiding the untruths which came 
 so readily to his tongue. His eyes never quitted the 
 pistol. 
 
 "Their morale? Are they tired of the war?" 
 
 '*Ach, ja, Herr Hauptmann — terribly tired." 
 
 "Why do they still fight?" 
 
 "The officers, Herr Hauptmann; when the officer 
 orders " 
 
 His eyes were now fixed upon the face of his 
 questioner. This should be a palatable presentation 
 
274 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 of at least a partial truth. He anxiously observed 
 its reception. 
 
 The captain smiled slightly. Her face lost some- 
 thing of its severity. 
 
 "And the revolution? Would they make a revo- 
 lution if they could?" 
 
 **Ach, ja, Herr Hauptmann; if they could I" 
 Salzmann infused an accent that appealed for sym- 
 pathy into the earnestness of his tone. 
 
 The captain deposited her pistol on the table as 
 she turned once more to conversation with her com- 
 panions. Salzmann's attention followed her. They 
 also were women, these officers; one — he visualised 
 her with long hair — really beautiful and refined ; the 
 other, of coarser appearance, he instinctively recog- 
 nised as a peasant woman, of his own class. What 
 were they talking about? His arms ached. He 
 moved his wrists, felt the tightness of his bonds. 
 If he could only get at that pistol I The minutes 
 were passing. The five minutes allotted must be 
 already gone. 
 
 As if in answer to his thought, one long deep roll- 
 ing roar, followed almost on the instant by a series 
 of heavy, violent crashes just above, shook the dug- 
 out. Earth dropped from the roof. The candle 
 went out. It was lit again before he could decide 
 himself to make a dash for freedom. An expostula- 
 tion in feminine voices that had commenced in the 
 dark continued in the illumination. 
 
 One of the officers, the young and beautiful one, 
 
THE IRON CROSS 275 
 
 was endeavouring to reach the door of the dugout, 
 but was held back by the peasant woman. The cap- 
 tain spoke a few words in a tone of calm authority 
 and the young woman seated herself again. Salz- 
 mann gathered that a useless exposure to the bom- 
 bardment outside had been prohibited. There was 
 clearly nothing to do but to wait. 
 
 Once more a panic fear surged up in him. Crash 
 upon crash, appallingly close, shook the earth with 
 rending violence. They would have one in the dug- 
 out in a moment I He twisted himself in an agony 
 of apprehension, the more alarmed as there would 
 not be even the shortest warning. The wail and 
 rush of the arriving shells were swallowed in the 
 blast of the explosions, in the dull, heavy roar of 
 the distant guns. At any moment a blinding flash, 
 an immense noise, the dugout collapsing. His im- 
 agination was painfully vivid. The strength had 
 gone out of his knees; his legs shook. He pulled 
 frantically, arms behind his back, at the lashing which 
 secured his wrists. 
 
 ^^Bitte, Herr Hauptmann, hitter he screamed, 
 panting, wild-eyed in his terror. "Untie me I Untie 
 me! A shell might come I Untie me I I am un- 
 armed I For the love of God, untie me I I am a 
 revolutionary I I think as you do I Untie me I 
 Bittel Bitte! Herr Hauptmannf' 
 
 The three women exchanged a glance of pitying 
 contempt. The captain nodded to an appealing look 
 from the young and beautiful one. The peasant 
 
^76 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 woman obviously demurred, grumbling; Salzmann 
 hated her. The young one got up from her seat — 
 with exasperating calm it seemed to the wretched 
 man quivering anew at each recurrent crash — and 
 coolly unfastened his wrists. He clutched at her 
 hand, kissed it in grovelling gratitude. She shook 
 him off with disdain. He reeled against the table, 
 supported himself by it. 
 
 The captain contemplated him with a scorn that 
 was not unmixed with amusement. Masculinity was 
 making a poor exhibition of itself. She calmly lit 
 a cigarette and puffed at it as she crossed her legs 
 in an attitude of indifference. Salzmann hated her 
 also — in those brief moments when an interval be- 
 tween the explosions allowed him a respite from his 
 brain-paralysing panic. From the corner of his eye 
 he watched the pistol on the table. He would not 
 dare a direct look at it lest his thought should be 
 read. 
 
 The captain spoke; she had to shout to be heard 
 in the din. 
 
 "Why did you come?*' she asked contemptuously. 
 "Did you volunteer?" 
 
 "/^, Herr Hauptmann/* He would have assented 
 to anything In his present torment. "I volunteered." 
 
 The lie was out. He saw an expression of sur- 
 prise flit across the captain's face. 
 
 "Why?" she asked, obviously incredulous. 
 
 "They promised me the Iron Cross," he said 
 piteously. 
 
THE IRON CROSS nt 
 
 The young and beautiful one joined in the cap-^ 
 tain's laughter. He hated her too. The peasant 
 woman looked inquiringly at her companions. Ob-- 
 viously she did not understand German. There was 
 a short explanation in rapid Russian, and then she 
 also laughed. Salzmann hated all of them in a fresh 
 impulse of resentment. After all — he had been con- 
 scious of it while he said it — there was something 
 heroic in his simple statement. Gretel would have 
 thrilled to it. In his exasperation at this perversion 
 of its effect he almost forgot the crashing thunders 
 of the bombardment outside. 
 
 "And why did you want the Iron Cross?" asked 
 the captain. Her tone suggested that she was merely 
 whiling away this enforced wait rather than acutely 
 interested. 
 
 A terrific detonation outside delayed his reply. 
 
 "My sweetheart wanted me to have it," he said, 
 forcing himself to continue after one wild glance 
 round the dugout. He hoped that this would touch 
 a sympathetic chord. 
 
 The two officers who understood German smiled 
 again. 
 
 "Your sweetheart wanted you to have it?" said 
 the captain, mockery in the curve of her lips. "She 
 insists that you shall be a hero, I suppose?" 
 
 Salzmann felt that justification was necessary. 
 
 "She says it is a symbol" — he stopped, trying ta 
 remember — "a symbol of the German people." 
 
 "True I" exclaimed the young and beautiful one 
 
278 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 earnestly, leaning forward to him. It was the first 
 time he had heard her speak German; the tone of 
 her voice was very rich and musical, even amid this 
 chaos of clashing, stunning noise. Her eyes were as 
 earnest as her tone. He found himself looking into 
 them with an awed respect. "It is the symbol of the 
 German people — ^the Iron Cross !" 
 
 'Vo — jawohir* assented Salzmann, nodding his 
 head in a sincerity he meant to be impressive. An- 
 other little portion of his brain still watched from 
 the corner of his eye the pistol on the table. 
 
 "How true that is, Sonia!'* continued the young 
 and beautiful one, turning to her captain, but speak- 
 ing still in German. "The symbol of the German 
 people I The whole world is stretched on an iron 
 cross of suffering — a suffering deliberately contem- 
 plated by this German people that believes in the 
 moral majesty of war I" 
 
 She spoke rapidly, with an ahnost mystical ex- 
 altation. The Slav temperament, swift to interpret 
 the underlying significance of life, was aflame in 
 the dark, glowing eyes so incongruous with that 
 close-cropped head. 
 
 "And wonderfully, all unconscious of its shame, 
 the German people fixes upon itself the brand of its 
 sin against that civilisation which it has crucified! 
 The Iron Cross I The Iron Cross of vast, unutter- 
 able agony on which humanity is dying! Yes, it is 
 a symbol — a symbol of iron ruthlessness, of black 
 treachery, of the mockery of God! The symbol 
 
THE IRON CROSS 279 
 
 of the German people, fixed upon them by their owa 
 hands for all time I" Her bosom heaved under the 
 tight-fitting uniform as she finished in a rush of in- 
 dignant emotion. 
 
 The German soldier stared at her, bewildered, 
 only half-comprehending this denunciation, which in 
 her earnest tones had such an unmistakable accent 
 of accusing truth. Instinctively he felt that some 
 sort of defence devolved upon him. Before he could 
 frame one, another salvo of shattering crashes in 
 the adjacent trench routed his thoughts, sent his 
 glance anxiously round the dugout. 
 
 "But — Herr — Frau — Offizier/* he said lamely, as 
 his alarm subsided, "you yourselves have come to 
 war — women!" 
 
 "We have come,'' said the young woman proudly, 
 "to show the Russian men that if they renounce the 
 battle against the evil thing — against this Germany 
 that poisons before it strikes, then we women must 
 purge the world of it. We will not bear children 
 into it else!" 
 
 Salzmann scarcely heard her. He was listening 
 to the bombardment overhead. It had increased to 
 an incredible fury; crash merged into crash without 
 a moment's pause. A new fear started up in him. 
 This must be the final hurricane storm of shells be- 
 fore the counter attack! If that counter attack 
 came now — he had failed in his mission ! 
 
 This new fear was a spur to his brain. He 
 thought rapidly, an inspiration of cunning quicken- 
 
280 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 ing him. The moments were few. His glance slid 
 sidelong to that unguarded pistol. He must make 
 conversation until his opportunity. The captain was 
 still too close to the weapon. He achieved a hag- 
 gard smile. 
 
 "But are you not afraid of being killed?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Killed?" echoed the young woman scornfully. 
 "We are the Battalion of Death I We are vowed to 
 die — women of every class. The captain there is a 
 countess. This officer" — she pointed to the peasant 
 woman, who sat scowlingly ignoring the prisoner — 
 "is a farm hand. I am a student. And life holds 
 nothing for any of us until the world is purged of 
 all your Iron Cross symbolised. Death!" She 
 laughed, her beautiful eyes in an ecstasy. "See 
 this!" she produced a little phial. "That is the 
 poison we all carry — for use if we are taken pris- 
 oners. If we fail in our mission death is our only 
 hope!" 
 
 Salzmann shuddered at these words, so ominously 
 applicable to his own situation. He listened anx- 
 iously to the bombardment. It was slackening. He 
 
 was sure of it. A few more moments and His 
 
 heart beat so violently that he agonised lest he 
 should betray his desperation. 
 
 The captain smiled scornfully. 
 
 "You are wasting words on this brute, Anna 
 Dmitrievna," she said in German. She leaned back 
 from the table, blew a puff of cigarette smoke to- 
 
THE IRON CROSS 281 
 
 ward the roof, followed it disdainfully with her 
 eyes. 
 
 On the instant Salzmann had leaped forward, 
 snatched the pistol and fired straight into her body. 
 Before the two others could do more than start from 
 their seats the pistol had cracked twice more. He 
 saw them lurch and fall heavily. 
 
 Quick! Quick! The bombardment had almost 
 ceased. He prayed now for another crash as he 
 flung himself on his victims, rifled their pockets, 
 stuffed his own full of their papers. Would he yet 
 be in time? He dashed up the stairway. 
 
 The trench was filled with choking fumes. It was 
 empty of any living creature as far as he could see. 
 Yet another shell pitched and flashed in a deafening 
 report. He raced along, tripping over prone bodies 
 that did not move when he trod upon them. Be- 
 hind him he was conscious that people were emerg- 
 ing from dugouts, were running to man the defences. 
 He found the communication trench and plunged 
 into it. 
 
 Almost obliterated as it was by the bombardment, 
 his progress along it over its heaps of loose earth 
 seemed maddeningly slow. In front of him he heard 
 a scream, a hoarse German cheer. 
 
 **Kamerad! Kameradr* he shrieked. ^'Kam- 
 eradr 
 
 A day or two later Johann Salzmann was seated 
 in front of a sheet of note paper, a stubby pencil 
 
282 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 in his fingers. He smiled to himself as he spread 
 his elbows for the letter. 
 
 **Schdtzchen** he began, "you will be pleased to 
 know that I have been awarded the Iron Cross. As 
 you say, it is a symbol of '* 
 
 He stopped, scratching his head, trying to remem- 
 ber. Of what, in the devil's name, was it a sym- 
 bol? 
 
"and the earth opened her mouth — " 
 
 THE artillery lieutenant returned his empty cof- 
 fee mug to the table of the battalion head- 
 quarters dugout, where he was a guest, and glanced 
 round the interior with an appreciative eye. By 
 contrast with the front trench, where, as forward 
 observing officer, he was destined to spend a drear 
 night, this deep square cave, roofed and walled with 
 balks of timber, lit by electricity, adorned with many 
 illustrations from the comic press and one or two 
 framed pictures from a Flemish mansion, carpeted 
 and furnished with the same barbaric incongruity, 
 fitted with all the devices imagined by the successive 
 inhabitants of more than two and a half years, was 
 the perfection of security and comfort. 
 
 **Sehr bequem, Kiihlmann, nicht wahrf** he said, 
 with an intonation and smiling gesture of the head, 
 which hinted banteringly that the permanent inhabi- 
 tants of the dugout protected themselves well from 
 the hardships of real soldiering. "Or do you prefer 
 your mine shaft?" 
 
 Kiihlmann, tall, long-faced, his fair hair scanty 
 to baldness on his high brow, shifted his extended 
 
 283 
 
<S84> ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 legs as he woke from a reverie that had held his 
 glance fixed toward the floor. 
 
 He was in charge of a countermining party at 
 work in the vicinity. 
 
 **Ganz zierlichF* he replied in a fluting drawl, 
 quite unlike the accent of a regular officer. He was 
 a mining engineer in Russia in the days before the 
 war and had always affected an urban elegance. "It 
 would be a pity if it were destroyed, Herr Major," 
 he finished, with a glance at the battalion com- 
 mander. 
 
 The major looked up from the packet of official 
 correspondence he was opening. 
 
 "No shell can penetrate here," he said shortly. 
 
 "I was not thinking of a shell," said Kiihlmann 
 with a wink to the artillery officer; there was some- 
 thing in his slow drawl that made the major look 
 up again quickly from his correspondence. 
 
 "What? Mines? Bah! Mines can't touch us 
 here — we're on top of the ridge, and if the Eng- 
 lander are digging at all they are digging away at 
 the bottom. You mining fellows may be very smart, 
 Kiihlmann; but you can't blow up a ridge like this 
 from its foundations — the idea is absurd!" 
 
 The major's square military face, with clipped 
 moustache and irascible little eyes, was thrust for- 
 ward in so emphatic a negation as to suggest that 
 disciplinary .. ction was the imminent penalty of dis- 
 agreement. 
 
 **Ldcherlich, Herr Major — IdcherlichF* said the 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 285 
 
 adjutant, prompt with sycophantic support of his su- 
 perior. **Etwas NeuesT^ he added scornfully. 
 
 The mining officer ignored him. 
 
 "The fact is, Herr Major," he said, "one cannot 
 prophesy what a mine will or will not do. Given 
 explosives enough, it seems quite feasible to me." 
 
 "Do you seriously suggest that the Englahder are 
 going to blow up the ridge, Kiihlmann?" said the 
 major with a snort. "What are your countermines 
 for if you cannot stop them?" 
 
 "The difficulty is, they are digging away at the 
 bottom, as you say, Herr Major," returned Kiihl- 
 mann; "and between us and them are several strata 
 that are practically impervious to sound. It is cer- 
 tain that the Englander are digging somewhere; but 
 we fail to detect just where." 
 
 Pugnacity faded out of the major^s face. 
 
 "Those verfluchte Prussians always give us the 
 part of the line where they expect trouble," said the 
 major, who belonged to a Bavarian division. "There 
 is certainly something coming — but when? I have 
 never known such a terrible artillery preparation as 
 this has been day after day since the twenty-fourth 
 of May. After the first few days of it I expected 
 the attack; but no, here we are at the sixth of June 
 —no attack yet and the artillery fire slacker than it 
 has been for some time. Why are our batteries so 
 quiet to-night, Weber?" he asked of the observing 
 officer. 
 
 "Our orders are to reply only when challenged. 
 
286 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Herr Major. We cannot know when the attack is 
 coming and we have to keep a big reserve of am- 
 munition. We have had two false alarms already.'* 
 
 The major nodded. 
 
 "Those two long bursts of Trommelfeuer! Yes. 
 Mein Gott! They were awful — schrecklich! I 
 thought* the attack was coming at each of them." 
 He bent down to his correspondence again. 
 
 This talk of artillery had redirected the attention 
 of all to the continuous jarring rumble of guns near 
 and far. The three junior officers sat in silence, 
 contemplating their cigarette smoke, listening, while 
 the major continued to go through his batch of offi- 
 cial letters. 
 
 "These Englander never stop," said Weber, the 
 artillery officer, suddenly. "One would have 
 thought, after those frightful battles in Artois and 
 round Lens, that they would have had enough for 
 a time. Herr Gott/ I thought they were through 
 more than once in that fighting round Oppy; it was 
 the bad weather saved us then. I wish it would rain 
 now — this cursed fine spell! It gives their airmen 
 such opportunities tool" 
 
 The major looked up from his papers. 
 
 "We are on top of the hill and they are at the 
 bottom," he said. "There will not be many left 
 after they have charged up against our machine 
 guns; and I have never seen a more scientific maze 
 of trenches than ours, here — even if they reach them. 
 Bekilmmern Sie sich nicht, lieher Weher — the Eng- 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 287 
 
 lander are going to have a smashing defeat." He 
 went on opening envelopes. 
 
 *'They captured the VImy Ridge, though; and 
 that was uphill," said Weber. 
 
 None answered him. The three young men were 
 silent in the rumbling thunder of the artillery, audi- 
 ble even in this deep cave, and the major was ab- 
 sorbed in his task. Suddenly he lifted his head. 
 
 "Attention, meine Herren! From the corps com- 
 mander." 
 
 He read from a long typewritten letter a warn- 
 ing of an impending English attack from north of 
 Armentieres to south of Ypres that might be ex- 
 pected any day. It enjoined a careful test of all 
 measures for defence and counter attack, and pro- 
 ceeded to outline their main features. The three 
 officers listened with breathless interest. The major 
 raised his voice to emphasise the gravity of his 
 communication : 
 
 " 'The absolute retention of the natural strong 
 points of Wytschaete and Meesen ^ becomes of the 
 greatest Importance for the domination of the whole 
 Wytschaete Salient. These strong poilnts, there- 
 fore, must not fall, even temporarily, into the 
 enemy^s hands. Both these strong points must be 
 defended to the utmost and held to the last man, 
 even if the enemy has cut communications on both 
 sides and threatens the strong points from the rear.' 
 
 * Meesen is the German name for Messines. The excerpt is 
 from a document captured by the British on June 7, 1917. 
 
288 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "What do you think of that, meine Herrenf 
 Looks nervous! There is much more of it." He 
 turned to the end of the document: " ^Signed, Von 
 Laffert.' " 
 
 The artillery officer glanced at his watch and rose 
 to go. 
 
 *'0f course we shall hold on to this ridge to the 
 last gasp," he said. "As long as we are on top, 
 we have got the Englander in a death trap round 
 Ypres." 
 
 ''GewissT said the major. "Well, we are ready 
 for them. Have this circulated to the companies, 
 Kreisler," he said to the adjutant. 
 
 Kiihlmann also rose for his departure. Both of- 
 ficers put on their steel helmets and saluted with 
 brisk precision. 
 
 **Guten Abend, Herr Major!** they said in 
 chorus. 
 
 The major looked up at them absently, his mind 
 already busy with the problems raised by the corps 
 commander's order. 
 
 **Guten Abend/** he said. "Come in when you 
 
 return." 
 
 Weber led the way up the steep stairs of the dug- 
 out. They emerged into a deep trench under the 
 pale blue sky of a fine summer evening. The sud- 
 den reports of guns firing isolated shots smote them 
 sharply after their seclusion; but the day-long artil- 
 lery duel had died down. They turned along the 
 trench together. 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 289 
 
 Fifty yards farther on the trench ran into a larger 
 one, at right angles with it. A red cross and an in- 
 scription painted on a signboard indicated a first-aid 
 dugout at the corner. The Militdr-Arzt squatted at 
 the entrance to his hole, puffing contentedly at his 
 long porcelain-bowled pipe. He nodded recognition 
 as the two officers passed. 
 
 **Loafer!" said Weber jocularly. 
 
 ''Busy enough presently,'' replied the doctor In 
 the tone of a shopkeeper open before the market 
 hour. 
 
 "Certainly,'' agreed the artillery officer. "Is It 
 for to-night?" 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 The two officers turned along the main trench 
 on their left. Invisible in the blue sky, from which 
 the luminosity was fading at every instant, desultory 
 English shells came hurtling toward them, the whine 
 broadening rapidly to the final rush and crash some- 
 where out of sight on either flank. Heavy shells 
 from indistinguishable German guns, far to the rear, 
 rumbled overhead on their way to reply. From 
 origins in front, unseen in this narrow hollow way, 
 came the smart crack of a sniper's rifle; the vicious 
 short reiteration of a machine gun laid on some un- 
 known target. 
 
 They were practically on the summit of the ridge, 
 but the ground still rose slightly and no far view 
 was possible. A man came staggering toward them, 
 bent under a heavy sack of earth. A moment later 
 
290 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Kiihlmann stopped by a hole in the trench wall where 
 another man stood lowering a rope over a pulley 
 wheel down a dark narrow shaft. Weber's glance 
 rested on a pile of oxygen cylinders adjacent. 
 
 "We don't need them yet — not deep enough," 
 said Kiihlmann, remarking the glance. *'Like to 
 come down and listen for the Englander?" 
 
 "Willingly," replied the artillery officer. "I am 
 not due to relieve Hirschauer for an hour yet." 
 
 "Follow me, then," said Kiihlmann; "but don't 
 tread on my fingers." 
 
 He swung himself into the narrow hole, feet fore- 
 most, and descended. 
 
 Weber looked down, saw a perpendicular ladder, 
 close against the side of the shaft, reaching down 
 into black depths, where Kiihlmann had already dis- 
 appeared, somewhat clumsily squirmed himself on 
 to the top rungs of the ladder, and commenced the 
 sheer descent. As his head dropped below the level 
 of the opening he heard the last rush and shattering 
 crash of an English shell. He half stopped for an 
 instant, in suspense, to see the entrance cave in ; then 
 continued his progress, his feet fumbling for the 
 next lower rung of the ladder. Below him he heard 
 Kiihlmann's voice welling up strangely resonant 
 from far beneath ; saw the upward flash of his torch 
 to encourage him. The descent seemed bottomless. 
 Cramped, his arms aching, he glanced up to see the 
 entrance no more than a faint white effulgence high 
 
''THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 291 
 
 above him; glanced down to utter blackness. The 
 air became dank and stale. 
 
 **Achtungr* said a voice suddenly, close to his ear. 
 It was Kiihlmann. "You are at the bottom." 
 
 A torch flashed out, illuminating the narrow shaft 
 and the black orifice of a small tunnel leading out 
 of it. From the orifice a man emerged, pushing a 
 truck filled with sacks of earth, and clutched at the 
 hook of the rope dangling from above. He stood 
 sharply erect in the white glare of his officer's torch, 
 grimed with soil, unhuman, like a gnome from un- 
 canny depths. 
 
 "This way I" said Kiihlmann, diving into the nar- 
 row entrance of the tunnel. Weber followed, 
 crouching to escape the low roof, stumbling over the 
 sleepers of the miniature railway. The torch flashed 
 out at intervals, and left him in a darkness that 
 seemed solid the moment it was extinguished. 
 
 The tunnel descended in a long easy slope, led 
 on and on in the intensified blackness after the fitful 
 flashes into depths that had still lower depths ahead. 
 A vague terror oppressed the artillery officer as he 
 groped his way onward, the terror of primitive an- 
 cestors lost in the mazes of prehistoric caverns. 
 
 His civilised mind tried to refer it to an anxiety 
 about the far-distant entrance and a chance shell, 
 to rout it by a calculation of probabilities — ^but 
 failed. The vague terror persisted, despite the cur- 
 rent of damp air he felt faintly blowing behind his 
 ears. 
 
29« ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 Craving companionship, he strove desperately to 
 keep up with Kiihlmann. A dull reverberating roar 
 in the blackness ahead engaged his attention; puzzled 
 him. It swelled louder as he went onward. Sud- 
 denly Kiihlmann flashed his torch on a whirling elec- 
 tric fan pendent from the roof; explained the sound 
 without a word. Behind he heard the echoing trun- 
 dling clamour of the truck overtaking them on its 
 return journey. 
 
 At last he saw a bright light far ahead in the 
 narrow funnel of darkness, heard the dull thuds of 
 picks at work, caught the voices of men, in the in- 
 tervals when the man behind him stayed the too 
 rapid progress of the truck. A few more minutes 
 of stumbling haste, when he felt that he must col- 
 lapse if he could not straighten his aching back, 
 and he found himself in the midst of a group of 
 men illumined by an electric light on a loose cable. 
 Some were sitting on the floor, adjusting an instru- 
 ment resembling a field telephone ; others were hack- 
 ing and drilling at a wall of clay or shovelling the 
 debris into sacks. It was the end of the tunnel. 
 
 One of the sitting figures rose as Kiihlmann came 
 among them. He nodded a greeting. 
 
 "The relief coming?" he asked in a tired voice. 
 
 "Yes," replied Kiihlmann; *T came on ahead. 
 WiegeMs? Nothing?" 
 
 "Nothing," said the weary officer. "We are just 
 going to try again." 
 
 Weber sank down upon the floor to rest his aching 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" ^93 
 
 back against the wall. Kuhlmann turned to him. 
 
 ''We are going to listen for the Englander digging 
 their mine. ... So that the major may have some 
 warning before they blow him up," he concluded 
 with a smile. 
 
 "I hope they don't blow it up while I am down 
 here I" said Weber fervently. 
 
 "It will be the end of you if they do," replied 
 Kuhlmann coolly in his fluting voice. He turned to 
 the men with the instrument. ^'Ferttgf* he asked. 
 
 *^Ja wohl, Herr Leutnant," replied an Unter- 
 officier, with a receiver like that of a telephone oper- 
 ator clipped over his head. 
 
 The officer uttered a sharp order, and instantly 
 the men with picks and drills and shovels ceased 
 their work. An absolute silence, unbroken by even 
 the faintest murmur of all those that are continual 
 though unnoticed in the life aboveground, fell upon 
 the little group illumined by the electric lamp in 
 that tunnel end, far down in the depths of the 
 earth. 
 
 Weber felt that he could hear his heart thumping 
 as he waited tensely for the verdict of the crouching 
 noncommissioned officer with the sensitive instru- 
 ment on his head. He gazed at him, fascinated, 
 as at an antique wizard immobile in the trance ere 
 fate is uttered. Minutes passed without a sound, 
 with breath scarce drawn. All eyes were upon the 
 listener, trying to read his furrowed brows. He did 
 not move. 
 
294 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Nichtsf* queried Kiihlmann at last. 
 
 "Nothing, Herr Leutnant," replied the noncom- 
 missioned officer. 
 
 "Give me the instrument.'* He fitted the micro- 
 phones over his ears, listened minute after minute 
 in that same dead silence where his companions virere 
 as motionless as statues. Finally he shook his head. 
 "Nothing!" he said gloomily. 
 
 "It is those cursed strata,'* said the other officer. 
 
 Kiihlmann assented; and the two relapsed into 
 geological technicalities, where Weber was lost. 
 
 'Tou ought to hear something, I suppose?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes," replied Kiihlmann. "Usually you can 
 plainly hear the other people digging and can esti- 
 mate fairly well where they are. When the noise 
 stops you know they are laying their mine. But 
 here we have never heard anything." 
 
 "But you are certain they are digging?" 
 
 "Quite. The entrances to their shafts have been 
 spotted long ago. Beyond that we are utterly igno- 
 rant. The Englander are probably quite close." He 
 turned again to his men; ordered them to recom- 
 mence their work. 
 
 With the thudding of their picks, the artillery of- 
 ficer realised again his position, far down in this 
 crevice, in the depths of the ridge. Once more his 
 dread of the cavern reasserted itself; swept over 
 him in a panic terror that he had to fight lest it 
 should be remarked. Death in this hole seemed to 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 295 
 
 him the ultimate horror; seemed a near menace that 
 would spring with a dull roar, an imperfectly im- 
 agined explosion, an appalling blackness. He was 
 aquiver to be out of it, shrank from the darkness 
 beyond the rays of this little electric lamp. With 
 delight he heard the other officer say : 
 
 **Auf Wtedersehen, Kiihlmann — and good luck!" 
 —-preparatory to departure. 
 
 He linked himself to him. 
 
 "Good night, Kiihlmann!'* 
 
 The tall figure, bending awkwardly in the confined 
 space, turned and nodded a farewell. 
 
 "Good night! I rely on you people to beat off 
 any attack while I am down here," he added jocu- 
 larly. 
 
 Weber shuddered at the thought of a closed en- 
 trance. What if a shell had burst on it even now! 
 
 "We'll do our best," he said with a forced laugh, 
 and followed the other officer into the tunnel. 
 
 As once more, crouching, arms outstretched to 
 finger contact with the walls, he groped his way up 
 that black tunnel, past the whirring electric fan, 
 Kiihlmann's last words haunted him. What if the 
 final bombardment, preparatory to the attack, were 
 even now in progress, obliterating the trenches, fill- 
 ing in the dugouts? He imagined, from ample ex- 
 perience, the tumbled heap of earth that hid the 
 place where the entrance to the mine shaft had been ; 
 the crash upon crash of bursting shells in fierce 
 founts of leaping smoke, making certain the work; 
 
296 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the blackened lumps of clay strewn loosely over 
 their tomb. 
 
 He hurried, straining after his companion, crav- 
 ing reassurance. The other officer, too fatigued for 
 unnecessary speech, strode on without a word. 
 Weber was impressed by his obvious familiarity with 
 this black underworld. At last, by a flash of his 
 comrade's torch, he perceived that he was at the foot 
 of the perpendicular shaft. 
 
 He looked upward — and, with a spasm of re- 
 newed terror, saw no light above him. His com- 
 panion calmly commenced the steep climb. He fol- 
 lowed, lagging behind the practised figure above 
 him, for all his efforts. He saw a faint white glim- 
 mer high above ; saw it darken as his comrade scram- 
 bled through. A minute later he himself had 
 emerged into the trench, by the pile of oxygen cylin- 
 ders. 
 
 **Gute Nachtr said the other shortly, and turned 
 along the trench to the left. 
 
 Weber turned to the right, toward the front line. 
 After the complete blackness below, the dusky light 
 of the fine summer evening seemed strangely bright. 
 Overhead the stars commenced to glimmer in a blue 
 sky from which the luminosity was even yet not quite 
 withdrawn. 
 
 A shell passed, with a whine, to a distant crash. 
 He remembered his fears of the intense bombard- 
 ment. The artillery fire had not increased. Only 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 297 
 
 the usual apparently haphazard shelling was in prog- 
 ress. 
 
 The trench along which he hurried was thronged 
 with busy men in helmets, profiting by this lull. 
 Some were feverishly repairing the passageway 
 damaged by a chance shot. Others were re-enforc- 
 ing sandbagged strong points at ftrench, comers, 
 where little black hoopholes, here and there among 
 the sacks, hinted at the machine guns ready to spurt 
 death into an invader. Most of them were carrying- 
 parties, bearing rations, ammunition and trench 
 stores to men who had hungrily craved them during 
 the long bombardment that had shut them off from 
 a worldful of such articles behind. 
 
 He passed over the summit of the ridge, com- 
 menced to descend the brow, following the deep 
 trench, which zigzagged downward, with parapets 
 banked high at the corners. Other trenches went 
 off to right and left, which were filled with delving, 
 toiling men, making ready to resist the expected at- 
 tack. He did not descend far. A few yards below 
 the summit his trench ran into a main fire trench, 
 much damaged by bombardment; its traverses mere 
 heaps of earth, with sandbags askew. He turned 
 along it, threading his way among the feverishly 
 digging men. 
 
 After a few steps he turned suddenly into a little 
 square armour-plated recess in the wall of the para- 
 pet, offering just space enough for the officer, cor- 
 poral and two telephone orderlies it contained. The 
 
298 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 officer stood with his back to him, peering out 
 through a chink in the wall. He turned round at 
 the entrance of his relief. 
 
 "Good evening, Hirschauer," said Weber. 
 
 "Good evening," replied the other wearily. Even 
 in this dim light It could be seen that he was hag- 
 gard with want of sleep. "Your people arrived in 
 front of you. I have relieved mine.'* 
 
 "Nothing fresh?" 
 
 "No. A quiet spell this last hour or two." 
 
 For a few minutes they discussed brief technicali- 
 ties; and then Hirschauer bade him good night. 
 
 Left alone with his men, Weber tested the tele- 
 phone communication to his battery with the air 
 of one to whom this was ordinary business routine. 
 He spoke to the Hauptmann with the field guns, 
 some two thousand yards back across the ridge. 
 
 "No; nothing fresh. All quiet. . . . No. No 
 signs of attack at present." 
 
 He put down the receiver and went across to 
 where the Scherenfernrohr, the telescopic range 
 finder, leaned on its tripod against the wall. He 
 looked out through the chink in the sandbags. 
 
 Almost straight in front the mass of Mont Kem- 
 mel loomed up black against the last radiance of the 
 late sunset. Between its base and him a white mist 
 was rising in level sheets. On his right he thought 
 he could just discern the pale glimmer of the skele- 
 ton-white Tower of Ypres, a familiar-enough ob- 
 ject in the plain that this view dominated in the day- 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 299 
 
 time. Close at hand the tangled masses of barbed 
 wire stretched down the ridge toward the English 
 trenches at the bottom. From somewhere among 
 the stakes came the sharp thin flash and quick re- 
 port of a German rifle in a sniper's post. Beyond 
 the wire, which he now saw to be badly cut by shell 
 fire, an English machine gun rapped out its prohibi- 
 tion of an attempt to repair the obstacle. 
 
 He gazed intently toward the enemy's position. 
 There was no sign of it. The white shroud of mist 
 stretched, away below him, level into the dusk, like 
 a sheet of water. It was impenetrable, its unruflled 
 imperceptible rise producing an illusion of brooding 
 calm. Under it guns here and there boomed or 
 cracked, according to their distance; but, after the 
 prolonged roar of the artillery duel, the wailing and 
 crashing of falling shells that for so many days 
 had dominated the ear, the prominence of their cas- 
 ual detonations merely emphasised this unwonted 
 peace. He stared into the mist, toward those dis- 
 tant hill masses, Mont Rouge and Mont Noir, 
 echeloned on the right, behind Mont Kemmel, now 
 blurring into the darkening sky, searching, ever baf- 
 fled, for a glimpse of the enemy that lay below. 
 
 The orderlies behind him were silent, and as he 
 gazed fixedly before him he drifted out of touch 
 with reality; seemed to be alone in this vigil over 
 a solitude bereft of feature, but pregnant with mys- 
 terious menace. It came to him suddenly that he 
 had many times gazed out precisely thus over the 
 
300 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 blank level sheets of mist that hid an enemy. When? 
 He could not identify it. His emotional background 
 would not blend with any remembered incident, and 
 it was the emotional background that came back to 
 him so uncannily from the past — precisely thus. 
 
 It seemed an experience many times reproduced in 
 past existences, with exactly that same pervading 
 sense of personal insecurity, of powerlessness to do 
 anything else. Gazing thus from a hilltop in Flan- 
 ders over the mist that hid the English foemen 
 awaiting the moment to slay, he, the lad from Mu- 
 nich, fulfilled destiny in the spiral of the aeons. He 
 had a flitting vision of himself in the grasp of an 
 obscure Fate that placed him again and again in 
 these circumstances in the penultimate hour before 
 a crisis in his life. 
 
 He shook himself free from the hallucination and 
 set himself to grasp the realities of his position. Be- 
 low him, under that mist, which now lost its spec- 
 tral familiarity, lay a maze of trenches. He visual- 
 ised them deliberately. And in those trenches were 
 English soldiers in flat steel helmets — spaced nor- 
 mally or massed for the attack? He could not say. 
 But, should they issue through the mist, he must be 
 instantly ready to give the signal, to shout through 
 the telephone the word that should produce crowds 
 of sharp little explosions in the air above his allotted 
 sector. 
 
 He braced himself for such a contingency in his 
 new contact with things as they really were. Even 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 301 
 
 if the attack was not imminent a raid — one of those 
 that had been made nightly for weeks on the threat- 
 ened sector — was probable. 
 
 And behind the trenches lay guns — guns in hun- 
 dreds, in thousands^ — guns beside which the wearied 
 crews slept for a brief space while the weapons 
 cooled, storing new energy for that final fierce orgy 
 of destruction that would be the prelude to the cli- 
 max he knew to be inevitable. And, hurrying on 
 the roads to the guns, under that pall of mist, he 
 could visualise the long streams of wagons, of motor 
 transport, bringing up new hillocks of shells to melt 
 later when the barrages raged upon the ridge. 
 
 For the moment or two in which he thus vividly 
 realised the intense purposeful activity of a vast 
 army hidden under that mist, the English soldiers 
 ceased to be mere shadows to him and he had a 
 glimpse of them, real men with wives and mothers 
 and children, held, as he was, in the grip of relent- 
 less Fate, mysteriously forced — he refused to con- 
 tinue the theme. 
 
 Behind him, in the trench, he heard an officer 
 giving instructions to a working party about to re- 
 pair the wire. This was reality; he listened to the 
 instructions without taking his eyes from the chink. 
 It was now almost dark. The stars were bright, 
 even in the west. The mist was no longer a fea- 
 ture. He heard the last carefully reiterated orders 
 of the officer, saw indistinct forms go from the foot 
 of the parapet into that perilous wilderness where 
 
30a ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the loose wire hung. It seemed to him that on the 
 instant a vicious fire must burst forth to meet them. 
 It did not. The sector remained quiet, in a brood- 
 ing hush. Only to the northward the cannonade 
 reconmienced once more, grew momentarily more 
 volent. He glanced toward the yellow flashes. 
 
 In this darkness his mind went back to the com- 
 fortable well-lighted dugout of the battalion head- 
 quarters. He heard again the conversation of an 
 hour or two back, saw the major^s little face in in- 
 dignant repudiation of the suggested catastrophe. 
 By a natural transition his thoughts flitted to Kiihl- 
 mann; to the long dark shaft into the ridge, that 
 tunnel end where they had listened in vain for an 
 intimation of their possible fate. Possible? 
 
 He recurred again to the major's ridicule; to the 
 adjutant's scornful suggestion that it would be 
 "something new." There was something familiar 
 in that. His mind jumped back to his schoolboy 
 days — he saw himself sitting with rows of other uni- 
 formed little boys in church — Etwas Neuesf Sin 
 autem novam rem fecerit Dominus — What was that? 
 A text; Numbers xvi, 30; it came back to him word 
 for word in the sonorous tones of the priest : "But 
 if the Lord make a new thing and the earth open her 
 mouth and swallow them up . . . then ye shall 
 understand that these men have provoked the Lord." 
 
 Bah I He felt his men behind him look up at his 
 short laugh. He was strangely fanciful to-night. 
 Concentrate! concentrate! — ^yes, that was also a 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 303 
 
 memory from his school days — his old master 
 
 Herr Gottf The dark western sky toward which he 
 looked leaped into one long blaze. He was in- 
 stantly nothing but a soldier. 
 
 In quickly following waves of sound the roar and 
 slam and crash of a thousand guns, firing at a pre- 
 arranged instant, smote him. The roar yet con- 
 tinued from the first startling salvo when he heard 
 the wailing rush of the on-coming shells; the rend- 
 ing, stunning crashes of their arrival. The roar 
 maintained itself, fiercely intensified from moment 
 to moment in a deafening coincidence of reports, 
 throbbing into the distance like a gigantic drum. 
 The rushing of the shells filled the air in the brief 
 intervals between the appalling detonations close at 
 hand. 
 
 The bombardment had recommenced. He heard 
 hoarse shouts in the trench behind him, the stampede 
 of panic-stricken men dashing to the dugouts. He 
 set his teeth and gazed steadfastly through his chink. 
 Out there amid the wire lit now by fitful red flashes 
 that leaped simultaneously with the crash, he saw 
 the dim figures of the working party, obscured in a 
 whelm of smoke, racing back to cover. The en- 
 tanglements would remain unrepaired. 
 
 Long drawn minutes passed in this chaos of stun- 
 ning noise that diminished only for a fresh paroxysm, 
 and ceased never. The earth shook at each vicious 
 explosion. A reek as of burnt fireworks filled the 
 little square shelter, got into his eyes, was inhaled 
 
304 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 into his lungs. Unconsciously he smeared his eyes 
 with the back of his hand, intent on that bit of 
 ground darkly in front of him, ready to shout to 
 the telephonist at the first sign of a moving figure. 
 
 At any moment the zone of the falling shells 
 might shift farther back — he heard many going well 
 over already — and the British infantry come rush- 
 ing up behind its barrage, bomb and knife in hand, 
 for the brief death struggle of a reconnoitring raid. 
 He cursed at his own infantry, cowering in their dug- 
 outs, too panic-stricken in this shell fire to fling up 
 the flares that should illuminate their front. 
 
 Crash followed crash in such quick succession 
 that it was scarcely possible to note the wail and 
 whine, the broad fierce sibilance of the countless 
 projectiles tearing through the air. The noise of 
 the British batteries was one long-continued heavy 
 roar, surging to ponderous climaxes. Behind him 
 an almost equally fierce roll of sound came from the 
 German guns, working furiously to beat down this 
 terrible fire. 
 
 When, for a brief moment, he altered the focus 
 of his gaze from his immediate front to a longer 
 range, his eyes were dazzled with a wonderful spec- 
 tacle. To the uttermost limits of vision the close 
 horizon was aflame. Broad white sheets of bril- 
 liant light flared ceaselessly to the zenith, now far, 
 now strangely near, to the right, to the left — ^too 
 rapidly multiplied in their irregular coincidence to 
 count. Among them shot yellower tongues of flame 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 305 
 
 in thousands, leaping and flickering along the gun 
 positions invisible in the dead light of day. Flashes 
 of an almost orange hue were one end of a gamut 
 of fire of which the other was a livid purple. Far 
 back a dump was ablaze, with a heart of furnace 
 red and a smother of rolling smoke. 
 
 Nearer at hand the yellow shrapnel stars twin- 
 kled, ever renewed as they flashed and vanished, 
 over trenches where German gunners thought Brit- 
 ish infantry might be massed for the attack. Close 
 in, the ground was at last vividly illumined in the 
 ghastly light, now increasing, now dying down, of 
 the flares flung up one after another by German sol- 
 diers ordered from their dugouts to the perilous 
 lookout posts. He gazed, with intense and peering 
 vision, at the fantastic shadows thrown by the tan- 
 gled wire, on stakes askew, in the dark crater pits 
 where the shells had burst. 
 
 He existed, a conscious point of intelligence, held 
 by intense volition above the leaping terrors of the 
 blind instinctive germ-self, agonising from instant 
 to instant in a renewed miracle of continuity, through 
 an uncomputed immeasurable period. The inferno 
 that thundered and crashed about him never varied,^ 
 entered no new phase that would help to mark off 
 time. The startling shock of a near burst at this 
 instant was followed by another at the next. 
 
 The long-rolling viciously vehement roar of the 
 British batteries was as indefinitely sustained as that 
 which came like an echo from the German guns be- 
 
g06 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 hind. The wide panorama of ceaseless flashes leap- 
 ing irregularly to the stars was as monotonous in 
 its renewal as that of jostling waves long contem- 
 plated; was a hypnotic dazzlement to the vision. 
 Still, he gazed, clearly conscious of nothing else, at 
 the fitfully illumined tangle of stakes and hanging 
 wire. 
 
 His vigilance suddenly quickened in a spasm of 
 alarm as a German flare, describing a wider arc 
 than usual, sank like a falling dwindling star far 
 out amid the wire, throwing new shadows among 
 the twisted obstacles. At last! The fulfilment of 
 his eternity of strained expectation was, when it 
 came, a shock at which his heartbeats raced. 
 
 For one more second he gazed, concentrated in 
 a paroxysm of attention that convulsed and fixed the 
 muscles of his face. Beyond, in the greenish-white 
 glare of the expiring light spluttering upon the 
 ground, he saw figures, erect and bent forward pur- 
 posefully; saw the vivid pallor of the faces; saw 
 them move as the light shot up in one last flash be- 
 fore it died. He turned round into the darkness 
 of the shelter. It was like a black dungeon — as 
 silent. Alone? The fear was simultaneous with 
 his word. 
 
 "Battery 1'' 
 
 In the darkness the voice of the Unterofficier 
 spoke immediately into the telephone. 
 
 "Battery, Herr LeutnantI" it added calmly. 
 
 "First barrage— ten rounds gunfire ! Fire I" 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—-" 307 
 
 He heard the message shouted down the line; 
 thanked God, in a sudden recollection of the risks, 
 that the communications were still intact; wondered 
 whether the line orderlies were still present, in the 
 instant in which he turned again to his observation 
 slit. 
 
 "Battery firing, H^rr LeutnantI" said the voice 
 of the Unterofficier behind him; he scarcely heard 
 it, craving for another flare. 
 
 On his left another observation officer had seen 
 the enemy — or had taken the alarm from this local 
 barrage — for another series of vivid little flashes 
 commenced to jump out of the black air. He gazed, 
 oblivious of a terrible crash just behind him. The 
 stretch of tangled wire was now fantastically illu- 
 minated as flare after flare soared up from the Ger- 
 man lines, fell like a hissing star to extinction in the 
 wilderness. One fell in close proximity to where he 
 had first observed the enemy; lay burning bright. 
 
 They were still there! They? He gazed again; 
 saw the same erect and purposefully bent figures, 
 the same white faces among the thicket of the stakes. 
 The shrapnel still lit and cracked above them. They 
 were the bodies of the repairing party, caught by 
 the sudden reopening of the bombardment, dead, 
 hung up on the wire I He cursed savagely. 
 
 "Cease fire!" he shouted over his shoulder. 
 
 He heard the Unterofficier repeat the order again 
 and again into the telephone. 
 
508 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Communications broken, Herr Leutnant!'* he 
 reported. 
 
 The artillery officer cursed again. 
 
 *'Send up a light signal!" he ordered. "And 
 send one of the men along the wire." 
 
 In the reaction from the fierce excitement of the 
 fancied attack his mind went back to the battery, 
 where the men were now stepping back from the 
 silenced guns. He was glad — cowardly — that the 
 broken communications precluded an awkward ex- 
 planation to the Hauptmann. He could imagine 
 that officer beside himself with mingled curiosity and 
 anxiety. Thence his thoughts slipped to the bat- 
 talion headquarters dugout, where he had drunk a 
 mug of coffee on the way up. Was the electric light 
 still brightly illuminating that cozy little shelter, 
 with its picture-hung walls ? He wondered whether 
 the major and the adjutant were still there, safe 
 from this inferno aboveground — perhaps discussing 
 Kiihlmann's pessimistic forebodings. 
 
 It was, of course, ridiculous ! Nothing could blow 
 up a ridge from its foundations! Then he thought 
 of Kiihlmann himself, far down in that narrow tun- 
 nel, listening — listening; and then his men, digging 
 away again, in their rayless night all oblivious of 
 the shells crashing and howling and shattering in the 
 night of stars overhead. He shuddered. It was 
 better to face it up here. 
 
 The Englander, too — his mind reverted to them 
 for an instant — they were even deeper, if Kiihl- 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 309 
 
 mann spoke truth; digging — digging — or had they 
 finished digging? Was the mine all laid, an officer 
 sitting somewhere over yonder, his hand on a firing 
 key, his eyes on the slowly moving pointers of a 
 watch, waiting for the instant when one brusque 
 movement should He tried to imagine a sur- 
 passing roar; heard, with the clearness of hallucina- 
 tion, the adjutant's scornful: ^^Etwas NeuesF^ He 
 willed himself to agree with him as once more he 
 focused his attention on the dreary wilderness of 
 the entanglement, with its background of leaping 
 flashes from guns that never ceased. 
 
 Suddenly the bombardment passed into a new 
 phase. From somewhere in the dark depths not far 
 distant he saw bright short flashes jump up, illuml. 
 nating the inequalities of the ground surface, multi-c 
 plied over a wide front. Almost immediately he 
 heard the deafening detonations of great trench- 
 mortar bombs exploding along the line on his left 
 and right. Mingled with them, In greater numbers, 
 were the sharper bursts of shells, arriving in ever- 
 renewed flights. 
 
 These short-range projectiles, vomited as from 
 inexhaustible fountains in the enemy trenches, now 
 monopolised the bombardment of the German front 
 lines. The guns that still flashed and scintillated in 
 the western darkness had lengthened their aim. He 
 heard their shells crashing back and ever back over 
 the ridge in the intervals of the heavy explosions 
 close at hand. They seemed, however, to be dimin- 
 
810 \CCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 ishing steadily in their frequency; the leaping gun 
 flashes toward which he gazed seemed to be renewed 
 in an ever-waning multitude. 
 
 The bombardment was dying down. He assured 
 himself of this with a relaxation of the intense strain 
 that had held him so long. The night was surely 
 nearly over. He glanced at the phosphorescent dial 
 of his watch — it marked five minutes past four.^ 
 Yet another reprieve? The dawn must be on the 
 point of breaking. One more hour, at the most, and 
 the attack would be either delivered — or looming 
 still, a vague, awful menace that overshadowed 
 every thought and act of those granted another day 
 of life. 
 
 Any moment of this next hour might be that 
 chosen by the mysterious controlling brain far dis^ 
 tant behind those diminishing gun flashes. Any mo- 
 ment I He gazed into the night as against shut 
 doors that would suddenly fly open. The minute 
 hand of the wrist watch, still held under his eyes, 
 crawled slowly between the five and ten. A stun- 
 ning shock came, with a bright red flash. 
 
 He picked himself up from the floor, cursing the 
 telephone box, against which his head had been 
 knocked. He knocked it again, against the roof, 
 as he rose. Dense fumes choked him. He remained 
 on his knees, felt round him. The shelter had col- 
 lapsed under the explosion of a trench-mortar bomb. 
 
 * German stfmmer time. Five minutes past three J- u. is 
 English summer time. 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 311 
 
 Through a hole on the ground level he saw fitful 
 quick reflections. Not buried — Gott set dank! He 
 crawled toward the orifice; crawled over the dead 
 body of the UnterofEcier. He dragged a box of 
 signal flares with him as he issued into the wrecked 
 trench. Fierce bursts leaped up from it on either 
 hand. He could not stay there. He must go 
 farther back, where he could still observe in some 
 safety. 
 
 He glanced up to the ridge, saw its silhouette 
 black against a blanching sky. The dawn I 
 
 The next instant he felt the hillside rise and heave 
 like the sea from its foundations; continue to lift 
 and fall under his feet as he reeled and stumbled on 
 his hands and knees, equilibrium impossible. One 
 wild spasm of bewildered alarm convulsed him In 
 the fraction of a second before he saw a vast foun- 
 tain of red flame shoot up from the summit of the 
 ridge above him — ^no, not one, but many such foun- 
 tains, repeated into the indefinite distance, banish- 
 ing the stars in one colossal rending stupefying roar 
 that swallowed the loudest burst and would not 
 cease. 
 
 Sprawling on the heaped clay, he stared up, 
 dazed, fascinated; saw enormous black domes 
 against the sky where the fountains of flame had 
 been; heard the succession of gigantic rumbling 
 blasts as the noise of the more distant explosions 
 arrived. Still the ground rocked and heaved and 
 sank. He felt sickeningly insecure, as though fall- 
 
312 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 ing through a world In disintegration. The black 
 domes sank; and in a deluge of hurtling debris, while 
 the concussion of the deafening explosions yet rang 
 In his ears, he heard once more the long thundering 
 roll and slam and roar of the British batteries, 
 firing together at a maximum of repetition. 
 
 Even as the first wild flight of shells arrived and 
 crashed, he rose totteringly to his feet on the still 
 shuddering earth and gazed toward the enemy. 
 
 Against the darkness, but startlingly close, a series 
 of magnificent coruscations of multicoloured sparks 
 was whirling unceasingly and parabolic rains of fire- 
 works from sources near the ground. He stared 
 for an Instant In bewildered admiration at the 
 strange and beautiful spectacle. 
 
 Then, as the greenish-white flares, the signal 
 lights, shot up from the battered trenches, he saw 
 the uncouth ponderous bulk of tanks nosing their 
 way, with high blind snouts in the air, over the 
 wrecked entanglements, sparks from their grinding 
 contact with the wire flying over and round them. 
 The attack! He bent down to his box of signal 
 flares and sent up rocket after rocket, red and white, 
 against the paling stars. 
 
 Then he turned and dashed along the wrecked 
 trench, clambering over heaps of debris, stumbling 
 Into deep craters, straining every nerve to get over 
 the summit of the ridge. About him was an inferno 
 of stunning rending explosions. He ran on as In a 
 dream — desperate, baffled, yet continuing. Some- 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 313 
 
 thing professional in him noted an unfamiliar shell 
 rush; wondered dully what it was. Red fire was 
 burning somewhere, glowing through the choking 
 smoke that reeked across the hillside. 
 
 He found himself in a part of the deep com- 
 munication trench still retaining some of its fea- 
 tures. He recognised his whereabouts for a mo- 
 ment, ran on, hearing behind him the thudding of 
 bombs, the hammering of isolated machine guns, 
 the sharp vicious cracks of the weapons carried by 
 the tanks, mingled with the rush and crash of count- 
 less shells bursting ever farther across the ridge. 
 
 He tripped suddenly over an obstacle, fell with 
 hands outstretched on iron. 'In the bright red glow 
 that came from somewhere above the lip of the 
 trench he identified the obstacle as he rose. The 
 oxygen cylinders I He gave a glance to his left; 
 saw a man's legs dangling from the middle of a 
 solid mass of clay. It was the pulley attendant, 
 caught by the fall of earth as he peered down the 
 shaft that would not again be opened. The artillery 
 officer only faintly realised the horror that chilled 
 him as he ran on. 
 
 He was pulled up short by a sheer wall of earth 
 that barred his progress. He could not identify it. 
 He gazed up, in stupefaction, at a great conical 
 hill rising where no hill had been before, dark 
 against the paling sky. As he staggered back he 
 saw the Red Cross signboard of the first-aid dug- 
 out, all askew, protruding from the debris at the foot 
 
SU ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 of the hill. Then, on the right — ^there had been a 
 trench — ^the battalion headquarters dugout. He 
 stared at the great bulk of the unfamiliar hill, un- 
 able to reconcile it with what he had known. It 
 towered solid above him, on the site where he had 
 left only excavations in the level earth; where he 
 had sat, deep down, with friends in a comfortably 
 furnished cave only a little while before. It looked 
 eternal in its mass in this magically changed land- 
 scape. 
 
 The artillery officer laughed aloud, the screaming 
 laugh of a maniac who triumphs in his dream that 
 he is the first of men to scale the mountains of the 
 moon. Then he commenced to scramble up the 
 loose earth of the steep side. Below him, round 
 him, was the strange ruddy glow he had already 
 noticed, which he now accepted as an integral part 
 of his unearthly environment. He nodded his head 
 at an internal voice that assured him distinctly that 
 the moon was the abode of devils. The surge of 
 roaring, clashing, fulminating sound that beat round 
 him confirmed him in this acquiescence. He laughed 
 again as he clambered upward, shouting Latin pray- 
 ers, stray verses from the Bible, which a pious Mu- 
 nich mother had taught him in his boyhood, tri- 
 umphing in his victory over the diabolic. 
 
 At last he reached the top. He rose to his feet 
 and was about to advance when he drew back sud- 
 denly. Sheer below was a vast pit from which dense 
 smoke curled and drifted. Far down in the smother 
 
"THE EARTH OPENED HER MOUTH—" 315 
 
 of fumes lurked a fierce red smouldering glow. He 
 gazed down, smitten with awe. 
 
 He seemed to be two individuals, staring into the 
 gulf. One — an insane one — ejaculated: **Herr 
 Gott! The headquarters dugout I" The other — 
 exulting, triumphant, scornful of this incomprehensi- 
 ble madman — shouted, like an antique prophet, 
 justified: *^Disrupta est terra sub pedihus eorumP* 
 He waved his arms, lost his footing and slipped into 
 the pit. 
 
 ^le slid some distance before an obstruction ar- 
 rested him, sprawling. He gazed up at the crater's 
 lip, darkly circular against the sky; and as he looked 
 a projectile arrived with an ugly unfamiliar rush. 
 The incomprehensible madman in him identified it 
 with those already heard ; wondered as to the burst. 
 
 A sheet of flame flashed from the wall of the 
 crater, trickled down toward him in a broad stream 
 of liquid fire. 
 
XI 
 
 PEACE 
 
 JCHTVNGr said a sergeant gruffly. **Less 
 ,^1 noise there I'* 
 
 The irregular trench, traversed at short intervals, 
 was choked with close-packed men, above whose 
 deep-helmeted heads a bayonet glinted faintly here 
 and there in the twilight. The first stars were just 
 beginning to appear in a night that would be moon- 
 less. Noncommissioned officers pushed their way 
 through the throng, verifying the equipment of their 
 men, emphasising final warnings and instructions. 
 Their tone was businesslike; their scrutiny the keen 
 matter-of-fact scrutiny of a trainer before the race. 
 
 The double rank of men, who filled the trench 
 from traverse to traverse on a company front, were 
 diversely armed. Here they leaned on rifles, with 
 bayonets already fixed. There they were cramming 
 into haversacks the last bombs issued to them by cor- 
 porals who insisted that each man have his full 
 tale. Farther on, broken into little groups, they 
 stood over the light machine guns, now dismantled, 
 which could be easily transported and set up in an 
 instant. Their respective noncommissioned officers 
 
 316 
 
PEACE S17 
 
 completed the last details of their Inspection ; swore 
 gutturally but with restrained voices at some man 
 more clumsy than his fellows. 
 
 The men stood in stolid silence, their faces hag- 
 gard and dirty under the deep helmets that all but 
 hid them, the faded grey of their uniforms yellow 
 with mud where a sergeant's torch flashed on them 
 for a moment. 
 
 They shivered in the chill of the evening. Some 
 coughed nervously. All were obviously tense, high- 
 strung. 
 
 In front of them, here and there, men crouched 
 close under the solid wall of sandbags; gazed down 
 into the reflectors of periscopes. At intervals 
 shadowy figures, clustered about machine guns fitted 
 in strongly armoured emplacements that were in- 
 visible from the other side, came into a brief promi- 
 nence of movement as they tested the arc of traverse 
 of the gun or drew long belts of ammunition from 
 heavy boxes. 
 
 Every man in the trench wore the same serious, 
 determined expression. The methodical precision 
 of their movements spoke of long habit in the per- 
 formance of these tasks, whose gravity was capital. 
 Death, in a few minutes, would be only warded off 
 by the death they dealt; might strike them blindly 
 even then, despite their most scientific precaution. 
 
 Yet there was no revolt on the faces of these 
 men. They were set in a gloomy fatalism that over- 
 rode the tremors of the quivering body; the fatal- 
 
318 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 ism of men inured to the unchallengeable caprice 
 of Death, which ruled their world and lurked, at all 
 times ready to swoop, beyond that sandbagged wall. 
 Sooner or later, in one of countless ways, it would 
 strike. However many perils they had survived, they 
 were hopeless of any other end. A peace rumour 
 had long ceased to be other than a subject for savage 
 mockery. The war was an eternity that had claimed 
 their temporal lives. Yet was the instinct undimin- 
 ished to fight to the last for their continuance. 
 
 There was, however, a special bitterness in their 
 sombre souls as they prepared for the night's work. 
 
 **Dtese verfluchte Amerikanerf' said one of them 
 suddenly, in a tone of murderous hatred, as he tested 
 the edge of his trench knife against the palm of his 
 hand. "Without them " 
 
 A growl of unanimity went up from the close 
 ranks between the traverses. 
 
 "Silence there I'* said a sergeant in a sharp, lo^ 
 voice. "You Miiller! You^ll have a shell 5r 
 usr 
 
 The man addressed grumbled to himself as I 
 put the knife into its sheath; yet he was fully awar 
 of the justice of the inhibition. 
 
 The night was deadly quiet. From those Amer- 
 ican trenches, which, after a brief hurricane bom- 
 bardment, they were going to raid, came no sound. 
 The slightest noise from them would have been sig- 
 nificant to their ears, strained to a more intense 
 pitch of acuteness than they realised. Far back be- 
 
l^EACE 319 
 
 hind them t gun spoke with a gruff double report; 
 a shell came whining dolorously overhead. The sharp 
 crack of a rifle somewhere along the trench was 
 followed by the hammer tap of a machine gun. 
 These sounds left no register on the men's con- 
 sciousness ; they were part of their habitual environ- 
 ment, as normal as the song of birds to the plough- 
 man. Their attention was focused on those silent 
 trenches, masked by the near sandbagged wall, which 
 they knew awaited them at the other side of the 
 desolate, shell-pitted stretch beyond the tangled wire ; 
 was held in suspense for the commencement of that 
 furious bombardment whose cessation would be the 
 signal for the plunge. 
 
 A flare went up from somewhere along the line 
 — ^the first of the evening. The enemy's? The 
 % signal for the artillery? They waited, holding their 
 ^breath. The silence continued. 
 
 The ofiicer in charge of the raiding party stood, 
 stless and anxious, in the angle of a traverse. 
 .¥'rom time to time he glanced at his watch; and 
 v^s he raised the phosphorescent dial close to his 
 ^^Iface, Miiller could see his boyish countenance faintly 
 illumined in the glow. The private wondered im- 
 personally how long this one would survive; in his; 
 long experience — he himself had marched almost 
 with the first, had been three times wounded, was 
 a veteran to be pointed at — he had seen so many 
 come, strut their little hour of harshly accentuated 
 importance and disappear. 
 
320 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 He had no regrets for them. They all came 
 out of the same mould, replaced each other precisely 
 similar, superior beings whose griefs and joys 
 touched him not, akin, though humbler Olympiads, 
 to the mighty War Lords who moved him and his 
 fellows across the map of Europe, flung them cold- 
 bloodedly to die — to emphasise a diplomatic con- 
 versation. 
 
 Suddenly there was a murmur of voices farther 
 along the trench, out of sight. A runner emerged 
 from it as he squeezed himself round the traverse 
 and rushed up to the officer. 
 
 "Herr Leutnant! Herr LeutnantI A message 
 — from battalion headquarters!'* 
 
 Though spent with what had evidently been an 
 effort of speed through the obstructed trenches, he 
 saluted as he handed over the envelope. 
 
 The lieutenant tore it open ; flashed his lamp cau- 
 tiously upon the sheet. Then his head jerked up 
 in a wild cry; a laugh that was not the laugh of 
 mirth, but apparently of delirium. The men set 
 their teeth in savage wrath at this reckless drawing 
 of the enemy fire. 
 
 "Peace!" he cried. "Peace! All offensive oper- 
 ations are cancelled! It's all over!" He laughed 
 boisterously, vacuously, like a man whose mind has 
 been overthrown. "The war is over! Peace is 
 signed! Do you hear?" 
 
 He yelled it at them as though exasperated at 
 their apathy. The ranks of men did not move; 
 
PEACE 321 
 
 stared at him with the respect the German Army 
 enforces toward an officer, even if he is plainly a 
 lunatic. The officer pulled himself together, re- 
 assumed the normal tone of curt authority. 
 
 "Sergeant, the sentries will be posted as usual. 
 No man is to be allowed out of the trench. No shot 
 is to be fired except under the direct orders of an 
 officer. White flags are to be hoisted above the 
 parapet at fifty-yard intervals. White flares will be 
 sent up frequently until the enemy has displayed 
 similar flags. The strictest discipline will be main- 
 tained in your section." 
 
 The sergeant saluted. **Zu Befehl, Herr Leut- 
 nant." 
 
 The officer hurried round the traverse, disap- 
 peared. The sergeant stared after him. Then, with 
 a deep breath, he turned to his men. 
 
 *'Sor he said. ''Da isfsT 
 
 They looked at him from their unbroken ranks in 
 silence. This was incredible — fantastic. The end 
 of the war I Like this — without warning — at the 
 moment when the attack was ready to spring? The 
 end? Peace? Reprieve? The genuine ring of the 
 curt orders compelled a credence refused to the wild 
 assertion. 
 
 ''Mein GottT Miiller heard the ejaculation be- 
 fore he realised it was his own. 
 
 This vast event appalled him. The thing was 
 too big to grasp. The others exchanged furtive 
 looks under their helmets, each trying to model 
 
S22 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 himself on his comrade. They shuffled awkwardly, 
 glanced sheepishly toward the sergeant, at a loss 
 for word or act. Their presence here was suddenly 
 bereft of purpose. An epoch of timeless age had 
 come to an end. The new had not yet begun. 
 
 A ragged cheer at a little distance along the 
 trench, whither the officer had disappeared, sounded 
 an awakening note of reality. The sergeant rose 
 to this historic moment. 
 
 "You think you can do as you like now, I sup- 
 pose!" he said with the jeering brutality of the petty 
 tyrant. He glared at the patient squad as at so 
 many victims; was about to continue, when he 
 stopped — cocked his ear. 
 
 Far back a gun had boomed. They heard the 
 wailing passage of the shell with a new acuteness — 
 a sudden terror; a sickening collapse. Not true 
 after all? A dream? Madness of the lieutenant? 
 They listened, fixed in their attitudes, in an agony 
 of apprehension — second after second. No other 
 detonation followed. 
 
 There was no sound from the enemy trenches. 
 The silence was unbroken. They did not even hear 
 the shell explode. They strained their ears. Not a 
 gun spoke in all the wide night. They had heard 
 the last shell I The memory of its sear across the 
 dark sky was suddenly vivid in them with its full 
 significance — the last I 
 
 The man Muller filled his lungs as with a new 
 atmosphere. Something seemed to drop away from 
 
PEACE S2S 
 
 him. The savage who had fingered the knife, 
 who had lusted for blood, was suddenly for- 
 eign to him. He felt bewildered. A vast pendulum, 
 on which he had been swinging for an endless time, 
 had suddenly stopped. His first sensation was of 
 an immense, a crushing fatigue. Sleep — oblivion; 
 it was an imperative need of his being. To-morrow 
 he would face this overwhelming fact. Sleep — un- 
 broken by alarms; so much he grasped from this 
 immeasureable boon that had at last descended up- 
 on a world grown sceptic of its appearance. 
 
 It was not to be. He heard the sergeant detailing 
 his men; found himself assigned to sentry duty. The 
 others stumbled off to execute their orders ; returned 
 with the articles they had been told to fetch. The 
 trench was a turmoil of feverish men, desperately 
 at work as though they feared the murderous shot 
 might come ere they had hoisted the signal of pro- 
 tection. Some ripped white sandbags into broad 
 sheets. Others nailed them to poles. Yet another 
 had opened the box of flares; stood ready with 
 loaded pistol to fire the first. 
 
 Farther along the trench the white lights were 
 already soaring up amid wild shouts and tumultuous 
 cheers. They also cheered — cheered like madmen, 
 intoxicated with their own clamour, in an overmas- 
 tering frenzy that gushed from the bottom of their 
 souls, their loudest vociferation yet inadequate to 
 express this vast relief they were now beginning 
 to comprehend — as their first flag was planted upon 
 
SU ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 the parapet, showing sharply silhouetted above their 
 heads in the brilliance of the first flare. 
 
 Miiller caught himself half expecting a rush of 
 excited Americans into their trench; cordial hand- 
 shakes; mutual enthusiasm. But flare after flare 
 soared into a night that echoed no cries but their 
 own. The American trenches lay silent, out of 
 sight, firing no shot, uttering no sound. A regularly 
 spaced row of flapping flags now surmounted the 
 parapet; were illuminated by incessantly soaring, 
 curving flares. The sky was white into the far 
 distance on either hand with a radiance of similar 
 origin. Still the American trenches gave no sign of 
 life. The German soldiers, crowded on the firestep, 
 gazed toward them with eager curiosity. A row of 
 flags, reflecting whiteness as they fluttered in the 
 blanched glare of the falling lights, surmounted them 
 also; were the sole evidence of occupation. 
 
 Exasperated by this obstinate silence, a German 
 soldier seized a megaphone and shouted with all 
 his lungs across to them in English: "Hi! You 
 Americans ! It's peace I Peace I" 
 
 There was a pause. Then a megaphoned reply 
 came booming across: **We know! We won't 
 hurt you." 
 
 Baflled by the sarcasm, the German soldiers re- 
 nounced the attempt at conversation, congregated in 
 little groups for excited talk among themselves. 
 What they were going to do when they returned 
 home — it was one theme, with infinite variations. 
 
PEACE 325 
 
 Miiller stood at his post, breast-high above the 
 parapet, gazing across that strip of ground which so 
 long had been under the ban of terror, scarcely to 
 be spied into; to be entered only furtively by the 
 grace of a precarious darkness, death-cheated at 
 every moment of sojourn. Though the menace was 
 removed, its desolate solitude was still sinister. In 
 all the months and years of war how many multi- 
 tudes had surged across it, uniformed in the fashion 
 of the moment, shouting in the different tongues of 
 many lands, their faces contorted with the passion 
 and the fear of the death conflict ! How many had 
 been annihilated in the spasm of their own murder- 
 ous thrust! How many had flung up their arms 
 in one wild cry upon a woman despairfully vivid 
 to them I How many had wrestled desperately — 
 body to body — for a dear life that was denied I How 
 many had lingered, inexorably doomed, through the 
 eternities of blazing sun, of frost-chilled nights, hung 
 on the tangled wire whose hold they could not loosen, 
 prone in the shell holes they could not scale I 
 
 It lay now in an uncanny silence after its long 
 torment of vicious shell bursts, of every kind of 
 violent detonation; a place of horror abandoned to 
 Its dead. The last cry had ceased from the trenches 
 that inclosed it; the last flare had spluttered into 
 darkness. A sky sown full of stars arched over it, 
 unsullied by any terrestrial reflection. From their 
 unthinkable remoteness, this innumerable multitude 
 of worlds and superworlds, holding — like this petty 
 
^6 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 •globe, invisible to them — their mysterious course 
 through infinite space during aeon after aeon, illu- 
 imined this hushed arena with the last pin-point rays 
 of their blazing grandeur as indifferently as for so 
 many hundred nights they had shone upon Its 
 clamorous agitation. Miiller looked up to them 
 in the awe of this silence, so Impressive in its new 
 and strange security, anid felt suddenly the full 
 measure of his insignificance; of the insignificance of 
 that merciless conflict, which to him had seemed so 
 colossal, so all-pervading, and which had now ceased 
 without — for him at least — decisive victory or de- 
 feat. He glanced over the rusty wire that still held 
 sacklike objects upon its barbs, across the shell-riven 
 wilderness where so many young lives had gasped 
 their final breath; where more tragedies had 
 screamed in vain than all the tribunals of Europe 
 had avenged in a hundred years. 
 
 It stretched away, to right and left of him, with- 
 out a cry, in a brooding hush; a corridor left for 
 Death to pace in an ultimate computation of his 
 harvest; left clear through every variant of land- 
 scape, hill and valley, woodland and open plain from 
 the Alps to the sea, which tossed its running waves 
 over the dead there also. 
 
 He shuddered in a sudden, unwontcdly acute per- 
 ception of the dreadful futility of it all. Solitary 
 there in the night, he was appalled with the magni- 
 tude of the destruction that had been wrought. His 
 mind revolted from it. Peace ! He breathed a sigh 
 
PEACE 327 
 
 of thankfulness; a thankfulness which ignored re- 
 sponsibility and retribution. He thought of his own 
 home in the German manufacturing town; of the 
 harmless interests he had forgotten. 
 
 An immense longing for comradeship welled up 
 in him; a comradeship that should know no dis- 
 tinction of race or speech; a comradeship that was 
 the full reaction from this bitter enmity in which 
 he had lived so long. He glanced across to the 
 silent American trenches, their regularly spaced flags 
 darkly silhouetted against the luminous blue-black 
 of the horizon, and longed for dawn and the human 
 confirmation of the pact. 
 
 He had been relieved, had had some two hours of 
 sleep, when the trench woke again to life in the first 
 grey of the morning. He opened his eyes with the 
 haunting consciousness of some great happening just 
 over the rim of memory, the vague sense of a destiny 
 recently and definitely changed. His partially 
 roused brain could not at first recall the circum- 
 stances ; was baiBed by a feeling that he had wakened 
 to just such an emotion once before in his life. He 
 fixed on that feeling of the past as a clue to the 
 present queried possibilities. 
 
 The morning of an attack? A cold thrill ran 
 through him; his stomach sank at this only too apt 
 probability. Then, in a sudden revulsion, the truth 
 flooded in on him : Peace I Wonderful, miraculous 
 peace I A pertinaciously scientific little portion of 
 his mind at the same moment identified the previpuf 
 
328 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 emotion with which he had felt the analogy — it had 
 been his wedding morning. And now the two mem- 
 mories coalesced and re-enforced each other — peace ; 
 his wife; home! 
 
 "Mein GottT he murmured, staring straight be- 
 fore him without stirring from his niche in the 
 parapet of the trench. ^'Lottchenf Die Kinder T' 
 
 He stared at his rose-hung house he had left — 
 how many ages ago? — on that hot summer morning; 
 saw Lottchen in tears, turning away from him, 
 snatching up the youngest-born in a passionate ges- 
 ture of despair as he waved farewell. He was over- 
 whelmed with this incredible certainty that he would 
 return to it — to happiness — permanently. He felt 
 like a man waking from a vivid dream of the con- 
 demned cell, execution imminent, to reassurance of 
 continued life. 
 
 A great gush of affection for his wife was un- 
 sealed in him. He yearned out to her, to the chil- 
 dren, to home. He visualised his return; thought, 
 with a little glow of vanity, how proud she would 
 be of him with his Iron Cross; with his participa- 
 tion in so many victories. 
 
 It was something, after all, to have fought in the 
 war. Now, of course, the thing to do — his mind 
 reverted to the Americans in their trenches — was to 
 shake hands; to start business again. He did not 
 know the terms of peace; but he felt comfortably 
 certain that a German who had fought brilliantly 
 
PEACE S29 
 
 against so many embattled nations was assured of 
 the respectful admiration of the entire world. 
 
 These thoughts and many others coursed through 
 his brain as he lay luxuriating in the consciousness 
 that he had not to get up to fire his rifle through 
 a loophole or restore a damaged traverse under the 
 imminent menace of a shell. They were cut short 
 by the clamour of voices, the rush of many feet just 
 outside. The company was falling in. He roscy 
 stiff with rheumatism, from his earthen couch. 
 
 At first, despite the murmured protests of the men, 
 they were not allowed to leave the trench. The 
 officers awaited orders. 
 
 Over the parapet they could see groups of slouch- 
 hatted Americans interring the dead on their side 
 of No Man's Land. From the long row of eagerly 
 curious German faces who watched them came a 
 continual shouting of English words, which elicited 
 no response. 
 
 Miiller found himself searching his memory for 
 scraps of that vocabulary he had learned during a 
 short stay In England years before. He craved to 
 take part, also, in this demonstration of friendliness, 
 impelled perhaps by an obscure desire to make quite 
 sure that this new era of peace applied to him, the 
 individual; that his personal danger was past. He 
 felt jealous of the man on his right who insisted 
 on explaining to him that he had lived many years 
 in America, and that he was going back to his old 
 friends and business. 
 
mo ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 '*Jch, Miiller," said the soldier — "America! 
 What is that for a country! It is a freedom you 
 have no idea of. No interfering police. No con- 
 scription. No crushing taxes. No officers treating 
 you like a dog. Nothing to prevent your thinking 
 what you like, saying what you like, doing what you 
 like — except, of course, that you cannot commit 
 crimes as you like. Plenty of money! The first 
 year I was there I made " 
 
 '7^; ich weiss schon/^ said Miiller curtly. "And 
 you are going back, Konnecke?** 
 
 "Sure thing!" replied his comrade in American; 
 then, in German : "I take the first steamer back after 
 I am demobilised." 
 
 At that moment an underofficer came along and 
 gave permission for the men to leave the trench. 
 They, also, were to bury the dead in the neutral 
 ground. The Germans streamed out through lanes 
 snipped in the rusty wire, leaving their weapons 
 behind them. For the first few moments in the 
 open they realised anew that impressive, continuing 
 silence of the guns, were awed into hushed voices, 
 their movements furtive in the strangeness of this 
 Unthreatened exposure among the shell holes at 
 which yesterday they could not have dared a direct 
 glance. 
 
 The Americans continued to work on their side 
 of the ground, glancing toward the approaching Ger- 
 mans with a brief laugh and word among themselves 
 fts they delved among the heaps of earth. 
 
PEACE 331 
 
 Konnecke went straight toward them and Miiller 
 felt that he could not do better than to attach himt 
 self to this experienced ambassador. He wondered 
 what would be that first word from their late adverr 
 saries, which, with Teutonic sentimentality, he felt 
 would typify the resumption of international rela- 
 tions. A compliment on their military prowess? He 
 prepared himself for a courteous reception of this 
 most probable salutation, framed ready for utter- 
 ance an elegant phrase of reciprocal esteem. 
 
 Konnecke headed directly toward a tall noncom- 
 missioned officer who stood superintending the ex- 
 cavation of a long grave. Miiller followed close 
 behind his comrade. 
 
 *'Howdy, sergeant I" said Konnecke confidently^ 
 in his best American accent. ''Guess you'll be glad 
 to get quit of this undertaking business?'' 
 
 The American favoured him with just the smallest 
 fraction of a glance under his eyelid. 
 
 "No," he replied coolly; "I'd bury quite a lot 
 more of you." 
 
 The German was disconcerted by the level, un- 
 emotional tone of the snub. Nevertheless, he grinned 
 in a fashion meant to be Ingratiating. Miiller's high 
 anticipation sank. After his imagined heroics, this 
 matter-of-fact reception was humiliating. He re- 
 sented this cool barrier of reserve, was exasperated 
 into a blind desire to penetrate it. At the back of 
 his mind was the explanation that the American 
 
j882 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 was too dull to appreciate the wonderful qualities 
 of the German soldier. 
 
 Konnecke spoke again before Muller could finish 
 his slow preparation of a fitting phrase. 
 
 "Reckon you'll be sure glad to get back to the 
 old States," he ventured, renewing his grin. "This 
 is no country for a white man — say, now!" He 
 glanced over the desolation of No Man's Land. 
 
 The American also glanced over his environment. 
 
 "That's so," he agreed. 
 
 "I'm going back, myself," pursued Konnecke — 
 ^*first steamer that leaves Hamburg — back to my 
 store in Cincinnati. I'm going right back to God's 
 own country — a sure-enough American citizen, first 
 thing you know." 
 
 The American turned slowly on his heel and faced 
 the grinning German. He surveyed him deliberately 
 from head to foot. Konnecke waited complacently 
 through the pause, as though expecting a pat on the 
 back. 
 
 "You're some optimist!" said the American 
 grimly. 
 
 With an abrupt movement, he seized Konnecke 
 by the shoulder and spun him round so that he 
 looked down the dreary vista between the trenches. 
 The battle lines in this area had met in a village; 
 but of that village there was nothing more than a 
 few heaps of pulverised brick, scarcely to be re- 
 marked on the naked desolation of the ridge. 
 
 "See there!" continued the American, with a. 
 
PEACE 333 
 
 sudden viciousness In his tone, pointing to that ob- 
 literated village. "That's you! I guess the States 
 can get on very well without you." 
 
 He released his grasp so brusquely that Konnecke, 
 dazed by this sudden hostility, stumbled, and all but 
 fell. The American strode off. Miiller looked after 
 him for a moment; then, on a sudden impulse to 
 put himself right with the world — personified at 
 this instant by the American noncommissioned officer 
 — he followed him and overtook him. His virtuous 
 indignation was a stimulus to his remembrance of 
 the English tongue. 
 
 *'Stop, sergeant I" he cried. The American swung 
 round and disdainfully awaited what he had to say. 
 Miiller had his first sentence glib. "You are not 
 just to us," he said. "Germany fought to defend 
 herself against a ring of jealous enemies. We did 
 not start It. Has not our Kaiser said it always? 
 
 But our victories — surely they entitle us to — to " 
 
 He faltered, trying to think of the English for "our 
 place In the sun." 
 
 The grey eyes of the American abashed him with 
 their steady scrutiny. 
 
 "YouVe hit it. Mister Boche," he said deliber- 
 ately. "It's just them victories. This world ain't 
 safe with a crowd in It that makes so darned sure 
 of victories as you do. We've quit fighting; but I 
 guess if you're calculating on shaking hands, and 
 kissing all round, you're in error. No, sir; the best 
 thing you can do Is to beat it to a quiet corner and 
 
S84 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 sit there, and maybe in about a hundred years 
 folk'U have forgotten about your dirty spies and all 
 your mean underhand ways. 
 
 *' Maybe folk'U forget about the women and chil* 
 dren and old men you shot I Maybe folk'U forget 
 about the wounded men you drowned; the villages 
 and towns that ain't no more now than a bit of hell 
 on earth I Maybe folk'U forget about Belgium and 
 the Lusitania, and all the rest! Maybe some day 
 folk'U be able to think of a boche without turning 
 sick. But that ain't now; and America has got no 
 use for a crowd like you ! We just want to forget 
 you. And I guess your other Europeans feel the 
 same way about it." 
 
 He spat, as though in disgust at having been be- 
 trayed into such loquacity, turned once more on 
 his heel, and strode off. 
 
 Miiller stood watching him like a man half 
 stunned. On this first wonderful morning every in- 
 cident was pregnant with significance; and this sen- 
 tence of banishment, though it came but from the 
 mouth of a noncommissioned officer of their late 
 enemies, was delivered with such reasoned delibera- 
 tion, such calm superiority, as to impress him vivid- 
 ly. He felt suddenly homeless, friendless in a hostile 
 world. He tried to banish the uncomfortable feed- 
 ing. They — all the other millions on this planet — 
 could not possibly decree an effective ostracism of 
 the entire German people. The idea was absurd I 
 
 He looked toward the crowd of his comrades In- 
 
 I 
 
PEACE 335 
 
 sinuatlng themselves pertinaciously among the tall, 
 soft-hatted Americans, and marked with resentment 
 the contemptuous downward glance upon the round 
 cap of the bullet-headed, under-sized figure no longer 
 lurking behind his machine gun in an intrenchment. 
 He thought of the splendid fellows who had 
 marched to war with him In the early days, and was 
 impelled to cry out in protest that these Germans 
 were not typical; that the manhood of Germany 
 was dead upon Its battlefields. The behaviour of 
 these degenerates filled him with bitter anger. Ac- 
 cepting no rebuflF, making the most of the monosyl- 
 labic replies they received, they ventured to laugh, to 
 become loquacious, determined to extort friendli- 
 ness, even though servility were the price of it. 
 
 "No use for a crowd like you I" — the phrase 
 haunted him with Its terrible accent of sincerity. 
 After all the sacrifices — all the blood and tears — 
 this! Hatred he could have accepted with pride — 
 It would have been a tribute; but this disdain that 
 denied even contact! A cold fear invaded him — a 
 presentiment he refused to accept as probable. 
 
 George Miiller leaned back in the corner of a first- 
 class railroad carriage. He was in civilian clothes — 
 the same suit In which he had reported himself to 
 the depot on that first morning of mobilisation, years 
 back. To-day he wore It again for the first time. 
 The last demonstration of the wonderful military 
 machine of which for so long he had formed part 
 
336 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 had been handed him back, neatly ticketed — that once 
 familiar suit of clothes which now looked so strange. 
 It hung loosely upon him, was no longer fashionable ; 
 but he wore it with a sense of luxury. This civilian 
 attire was the outward and visible sign of his eman- 
 cipation from the servitude that had crushed his in- 
 dividuality so long. He felt like a prisoner released 
 from jail, returned to the world of the living, where 
 his personal inclinations once more had scope. A 
 new life was beginning for him ; a life that had been 
 in suspense from that wonderful evening in the 
 trenches when, all unexpectedly, the end had come. 
 
 Leaning back, with closed eyes, he recapitulated 
 the event — slurring over the episode of the American 
 sergeant's rebuff, which persisted, not to be abolished, 
 in his memory; tasting once more the joy of march- 
 ing away forever from that ghastly battlefield; an- 
 gry once again at the suddenly hostile attitude of the 
 French population in their concentration area; it 
 had been impossible to purchase any of the ordinary 
 dainties of life, and a strict order had enforced the 
 utmost correctness of demeanour toward these surly 
 hosts no longer constrained to courtesy; thrilling once 
 more with the jubilant enthusiasm of the trainload 
 of soldiers returning to the Fatherland; bitter at the 
 long administrative delays that had adjourned their 
 final demobilisation. 
 
 But now it was all over. He was himself again; 
 no longer a mere number in field grey, but a husband 
 and father hurrying back to his wife and children. 
 
PEACE 337 
 
 Once more he was to take up the task of earning 
 a livelihood for them. This thought appeared sud- 
 denly at the tail of his idle reverie, as it had recurred 
 again and again in every quiet moment since that first 
 morning of peace. 
 
 Work and earn! It was a necessity that would 
 bear no postponement. His little capital had almost 
 been spent in keeping his family alive during the 
 famine prices of the years of war. He would have 
 to start afresh. 
 
 Once more, as he had done a dozen times already 
 on the journey, he drew from his pocket a letter 
 from the director of the factory where he had been 
 works manager. 
 
 "Dear Miiller," it ran, *'I much regret that I can- 
 not give you an idea of when we shall reopen. We 
 find it absolutely impossible to procure raw material ; 
 and even if we could get it our foreign agents in- 
 form us that it is hopeless to expect to trade until 
 the prejudice against us is abated. It is a terrible 
 situation. The working classes here are almost des- 
 perate. You may rest assured that at the first op- 
 portunity we shall again avail ourselves of your 
 services.'* 
 
 Miiller reread the letter, though long ere this 
 he could have repeated it word for word. But in 
 the uncertainty of his prospects his mind derived a 
 gloomy satisfaction from this definite negative. 
 What could he do? Emigrate to America? He 
 remembered the American sergeant's words, the cold 
 
338 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 aloofness of the American troops, and rejected the 
 idea. The situation was serious. He counted over 
 his slender resources, with a feeling of regret that 
 he had yielded to the extravagant impulse to take 
 a first-class ticket. He had not been able to re- 
 sist the fascination — after all these years of cattle 
 trucks and third-class carriages — of travelling first 
 class, as of old. It had seemed to him the re-estab- 
 lishment of his identity. 
 
 He put away the letter and picked up a news- 
 paper. The first heading to catch his eye was The 
 Raw-Materials Crisis, in fat Gothic type. The ar- 
 ticle dealt at length and plaintively with the terrible 
 disadvantage of German industry in its contest with 
 competitors who, during the war, had seized the 
 principal sources of raw materials throughout the 
 world. 
 
 An adjacent column described another crisis. The 
 Crisis in Shipping, and bewailed the fact that It 
 was impossible to find cargo space for the millions 
 of tons of ready-manufactured goods which Ger- 
 many had waiting for export. It showed statistically 
 the Immense diminution in the volume of the world's 
 shipping since August, 19 14. 
 
 "They can thank their damned U-boats for that!" 
 commented Miiller, with a curiously impersonal bit- 
 terness; he dissociated himself completely from 
 those governing classes over whom he had no con- 
 trol; was rancorously hostile. 
 
 The train stopped at an Important station. He 
 
PEACE 339 
 
 left his hat on his seat to mark his proprietorship 
 and went out into the corridor. A minute later he 
 turned to see an imposing Oberst in full uniform, 
 accompanied by a silk-hatted, frock-coated civilian 
 — obviously a functionary of some sort — entering 
 his compartment. Through the window he saw the 
 colonel unbuckle his sword and throw it on the 
 rack, and then coolly remove the hat from the seat, 
 preparatory to sitting in the corner. In a moment 
 Miiller had re-entered the compartment. 
 
 "Pardon, Herr Oberst," he said politely; **but 
 that seat is occupied.'' 
 
 The colonel glared at him. 
 
 "Sit somewhere else I" he replied harshly, and 
 prepared to take possession. 
 
 A blind fury surged up in the ex-soldier, the ac- 
 cumulated fury of countless brutalities hitherto un- 
 resented. He sprang at the officer, gripped his wrist 
 in a hand of steel, and flung him violently out of the 
 seat. 
 
 "I do not choose to," he said; his eyes met the 
 colonel's in a glare of cold hatred that was almost 
 insane in its sudden vehemence. 
 
 With a wild oath the officer leaped for his sword. 
 He found himself once more powerless in an in- 
 exorable grip, forced down to a seat. Almost 
 speechless with rage he noted the close-cropped head 
 of his adversary and recognised him for a demob- 
 ilised soldier. 
 
 "Choose I" he cried. "You think you can do as 
 
340 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 you like now, I suppose. FU teach you! Dog!" 
 
 Miiller smiled grimly at this plagiarism of his 
 sergeant's historic remark, this naiVe avowal of the 
 standpoint of the ruling caste. With a newfound 
 dignity he resumed his own seat. He felt curiously 
 elated, as though he had burst some secret chain 
 about his life; the elation of the suddenly inspired 
 pagan who has overthrown his gods. 
 
 The colonel continued to glare at him malevo- 
 lently, muttering to himself the while. Miiller 
 ignored him. The train had started. The next stop 
 was his destination, which would end the episode. 
 
 The colonel commenced a conversation with his 
 civilian companion and almost immediately the name 
 of his native town awakened the ex-soldier's atten- 
 tion. Hidden behind his newspaper, he listened with 
 a growing interest that speedily became acute. Ap- 
 parently there was grave industrial trouble — wilful 
 damage to shops and factories; mobs clamouring 
 for work and food; rioting. 
 
 He deduced that the civilian was a government 
 commissioner, the Oberst a newly appointed mili- 
 tary commandant of the area; both on a mission to 
 suppress the trouble. With increasing alarm he 
 heard them mention various localities that had been 
 sacked. Thank God, his own house was in a sub- 
 urb of the town I In all probability Lottchen and 
 the children would not be molested. He let his mind 
 dwell on the dear ones he had not seen for so many 
 
PEACE 341 
 
 months. Another half hour and he should be clasp- 
 ing them to his breast ! 
 
 He looked through the window and watched with 
 impatience the countryside, which seemed to roll 
 back so slowly, pivoting on distant trees and 
 churches. Here and there were factories in a clus- 
 ter. He noted that no smoke came from any of 
 their chimneys. A few miserable-looking women 
 were working in the fields; but generally the view 
 was deserted. 
 
 This emptiness of the landscape impressed him 
 unpleasantly; the entire countryside seemed to be 
 under a ban. His mind reverted to a clumsy school- 
 boy visualisation of an interdict; came back from it 
 to the present. If the rest of the world had excom- 
 municated the Germans — as it seemed — they would 
 soon be fighting murderously among themselves for 
 the means of existence, like marooned criminals on 
 a desert island. He revolted from the prospect. 
 He was utterly weary of strife. Peace! Peace! 
 He craved for it with all his soul. The war was a 
 nightmare he wanted only to forget. 
 
 The train pulled into his destination; stopped. 
 He noticed an unusually large group of policemen 
 on the platform as he descended from his compart- 
 ment. A moment later he heard the voice of the 
 Oberst behind him, shouting to attract attention. In- 
 voluntarily he glanced round; saw himself pointed 
 at by the officer. 
 
342 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "Arrest that man!" cried the coloned. "Insult 
 to the uniform!'' 
 
 A policeman clutched at him. Miiller flung him 
 off In a wild, reckless revolt. He would not be 
 stayed thus on the threshold of his home. He found 
 himself fighting furiously with a group. Overpow- 
 ered, he sank under a stunning blow from a sheathed 
 sword. 
 
 Three policemen dragged him to his feet; hauled 
 him along the platform in the wake of the colonel 
 and his civilian companion. He saw the local chief 
 of police salute the Oberst, go with him through 
 the exit, followed by a posse of his men. In the 
 firm grasp of his captors, Miiller also was hurried 
 off the platform and through the lofty hall beyond. 
 
 As they emerged from the station into the Bahn- 
 hof-Platz the roar of an angry mob smote them like 
 a squall. Beyond a clear space close at hand, where 
 stood a couple of motor cars, was a dense mass of 
 people, who howled and shouted as they waved a 
 forest of fists above their heads. Police, on foot 
 and mounted, kept them back from the station exit 
 by desperate efforts, which had constantly to be re- 
 newed. 
 
 ^^Brotl BrotT* came one insistent cry from the 
 mob, dominating the chaos of vituperations, of 
 senseless catcalls, of vile words that were the sim- 
 plest expression of bitter hatred. 
 
 They surged forward again and again in tumultu- 
 
PEACE 343 
 
 ous rushes, stemmed at last by the vigorously strug- 
 gling police, only to break loose elsewhere. 
 
 The Oberst put on his monocle and stared upon 
 the mob with cool contempt. A shower of stones 
 hurtled past him, shattered the station windows at 
 his back. He turned to the chief of police. 
 
 "The town is under martial law," he said. 
 "Charge those dogs for me I Mounted men I" 
 
 The chief of police blew a shrill blast upon his 
 whistle. A troop of mounted policemen trotted up 
 and formed their ranks in the open space. Other 
 mounted men joined them from the fringe of the 
 crowd. The chief of police gave his orders. There 
 was a flash of swords drawn from the scabbard, a 
 curt command above the uproar. The troop put 
 spurs to their horses. For a second the only sound 
 was the clattering of hoofs upon the pavement, and, 
 then, in one simultaneous outcry, an awful tumult of 
 angry oaths, of panic-stricken shrieks, of screams 
 of pain, echoed from the houses of the square. 
 
 Miiller gazed, fascinated with horror, at the ter- 
 rorised crowd of men and women who fled blindly 
 to escape the plunging horses, the swords that rose 
 and fell. 
 
 A lane was left open behind the charging troop ; a 
 lane strewn with prone bodies of men and women, 
 who endeavoured to raise themselves upon an arm 
 and sank ere they could crawl away. 
 
 The colonel smiled grimly. 
 
S44 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 "So I" he said. "That is the way to pacify them, 
 Herr Bruckmann." 
 
 The civilian functionary had turned white. He 
 endeavoured to smile back, but achieved only a grim- 
 ace. The colonel did not wait for his reply. He 
 went toward his motor car; stopped, with his foot 
 upon the running board. 
 -> "Bring that man along to the Rathaus I'* he said 
 to the policemen, pointing to Miiller. Then, to the 
 civilian, he added: "We will establish a court-mar- 
 tial there immediately." 
 
 He disappeared into the car, followed by his 
 companion. A moment later it was speeding along 
 the track of the charging police and passed out of 
 sight into the street beyond. 
 
 Several other policemen re-enforced the group 
 that held the ex-soldier, and in a compact body they 
 set off across the square. The tide of the mob had 
 now flowed back into it. The terror of the flashing 
 swords no longer immediately before their eyes, they 
 returned, infuriated by the violence that a moment 
 ago had struck panic to their souls, a savage lust 
 for vengeance blinding them to all other considera- 
 tions. Howling for blood, hurling stones, striking 
 with sticks, gripping with clawlike hands, they 
 surged round the little escort, which fought its way 
 forward step by step. 
 
 In the narrow street at the end of the square 
 the police could make no further progress. Two of 
 them held Miiller firmly, who was half dazed by 
 
PEACE 345 
 
 his treatment, but, like a caged wild animal, ready to 
 spring for liberty at the first opportunity. The 
 group reeled against one another in the rushes of 
 the mob, struck out right and left with their sheathed 
 swords, dealing blows that felled at each stroke. 
 Still they could not advance. 
 
 "A prisoner I Rescue I Rescue 1*' howled the 
 mob. 
 
 There was an answering shout from the upper 
 windows of an adjacent house. Miiller looked up 
 to it. Men were flinging out furniture into the street 
 below. He could just see the facia of the building 
 above the heads of the crowd. It was a baker's 
 shop, which had been plundered. The dwelling 
 house was now being sacked. 
 
 One of the pillagers had found a rifle. He ap- 
 peared now at the window, his face grinning in 
 triumph as he shouted a warning. The crowd fell 
 back from the close-beset escort in sudden alarm- 
 The sergeant in charge whipped out an automatic 
 pistol, shouted an order to his men to draw theirs, 
 just as the shot cracked from the window. He fell 
 in a heap. 
 
 For a fraction of a second Miiller felt his captors** 
 grasp relax as they felt for their weapons. With 
 a violent effort, he sent both sprawling, snatched 
 the pistol of the dead man, and sprang into the 
 crowd. 
 
 A fusillade of shots came from the group of po- 
 licemen, evoking another outburst of shrieks and 
 
S46 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 cries from the mob, surging back, away from them. 
 The police were now isolated in a stretch of empty 
 street. They charged forward with drawn swords, 
 pistols ready. 
 
 With the unthinking instinct of the battle-trained 
 soldier, Miiller flung himself into the shelter of a 
 chance doorway and fired rapidly, with practised 
 aim, at the charging group. From the window 
 above the rifle cracked repeatedly. From the mob 
 came the quick reports of other firearms. For one 
 minute more there was an empty space about the 
 savagely retaliating policemen^ and then the tumult 
 closed, raging, over the bodies of the stricken men. 
 
 From that point Miiller lived the unreal life of 
 a fantastic nightmare, where one wild incident 
 blurred into the next. He found himself borne, 
 shoulder-high, along the street by the mob, acclaimed 
 as leader by the latest of their impetuous whims. A 
 hundred wild figures clamoured round him for the 
 orders he gave swiftly, as by instinct. He forgot 
 his home, his children. He was exhilarated with 
 the sense of authority, uttered his commands with 
 the sureness of a born leader who has suddenly found 
 his opportunity. 
 
 The passion of the crowd, in fierce revolt against 
 all that had hitherto coerced their lives, was a 
 white-hot flame in his so recently outraged soul. A 
 quenchless hatred for that upper race which had 
 squandered millions of lives as a vain fee for their 
 ambitions and succeeded only In rendering the Ger- 
 
PEACE 34T 
 
 man an outcast, dominated him like mania. All 
 that misery and suffering they had inflicted should 
 now recoil upon those who gave the order — ^the great 
 caste of government officials and army officers. 
 
 An end of it — an end of it; the words beat in 
 his brain like an echo of the phrase he had shouted 
 he knew no longer when. Their power must end 
 here and now. The people — he and his like — had 
 submitted long enough. 
 
 The instincts of an ancestor who had fought be- 
 hind the barricades of 1848 asserted themselves in 
 him as his own as he led his howling, shrieking mob 
 along the shuttered street toward the Rathaus. 
 
 In the open space before the building a company 
 of infantry was forming to its front. Machine gun- 
 ners were rapidly assembling their weapons. Miiller 
 took in the situation at a glance. Another minute 
 and the crowd would be exterminated, the revolt 
 crushed at the outset. He ran straight toward the 
 infantry, crying: 
 
 "Kameraden! Kameraden! Don't shoot! Don't 
 shoot! I am a soldier like yourselves! A com- 
 rade!" 
 
 There was hesitation, doubt, among the men form- 
 ing into line. 
 
 "Present!" shouted the officer with a curse. 
 
 The rifles rose Irregularly to the horizontal. The 
 machine gunners were not quite ready. The oflUcer 
 opened his mouth for the final order. Miiller shot 
 him dead. 
 
«48 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 A moment later the infantry and the machine gun- 
 ners were overborne by the crowd, which vocifer- 
 ously fraternised with them, cheered them, kissed 
 them, shook hands with them, bewildered them in 
 a clamour of male and female voices. 
 
 There was a crashing detonation from the other 
 side of the square. Another company had formed 
 a line; had fired a volley indiscriminately into sol- 
 diers and civilians. A howl of rage overpowered 
 the death shrieks of the victims. 
 
 The soldiers who had fraternised flung themselves 
 prone and opened a rapid fire upon their erstwhile 
 comrades in arms; civilians and ex-soldiers formed 
 the firing line with them, snatching up the weapons 
 of the dead. Machine guns opened from both sides. 
 The battle commenced. 
 
 Gradually the rioters and their scanty auxiliaries 
 were forced back out of the open space. Miiller 
 found himself appealed to for orders by leaders of 
 other sections of the mob as well as by his own im- 
 mediate following. He gave them with quick de- 
 cision: ^'Machine guns to the roofs of the houses; 
 snipers to the windows." The fusillade swelled in 
 intensity with each moment as more and more of 
 the mob procured weapons. 
 
 Still the government forces held the open space 
 in front of the Rathaus. Over the barricade, which 
 now closed the entrance to the street, Miiller glanced 
 cautiously at the line of prone soldiers who fired 
 rapidly, ten bullets against one, at their concealed 
 
PEACE 349 
 
 foes. He noted pieces of paper whirling across the 
 ground in a high wind from right to left of the line, 
 and had a sudden inspiration. 
 
 *Tire the houses on the side of the square I" he 
 cried. 
 
 A noisy crowd of men and women dashed off by 
 back streets to execute the order. A few minutes 
 later dense volumes of smoke were rolling across the 
 square, blinding the aim of the defending soldiers. 
 He saw them rise and retreat, misty figures in the 
 smother of fumes; rose to shout his own men for- 
 ward. Something struck him violently in the chest. 
 
 He woke from vague dreams of suffering to find 
 himself stretched across a dead body. Bewildered, 
 he gazed round him. It was twilight. Ruddy re- 
 flections flickered on the gaunt skeletons of gutted 
 houses, from the foundations of which smoke still 
 welled in volumes. In his immediate neighbour- 
 hood all was deathly quiet; but from somewhere in 
 the distance came rapid rifle shots. He recognised 
 his environment. 
 
 "These cursed Belgians!" he said to himself. 
 "That's another town fired to teach them a lesson I 
 I hope they shot the mayor." 
 
 The illusion was complete. Waking from the 
 coma of his death wound, he was back again in the 
 wild days of 19 14 — the familiar gutted town, the 
 row of huddled bodies of women and civilians at 
 the foot of the shot-whitened wall near the broken 
 barricade, were unmistakable. 
 
860 ACCORDING TO ORDERS 
 
 He realised suddenly that he was wounded; en- 
 deavoured to rise In an effort to find his company or 
 an ambulance. His failure brought the truth home 
 to him in a thrill of horror. He clapped his hand 
 to his chest. 
 
 **Metn GottP* he murmured despairingly as he 
 sank back. "And the Hauptmann said that peace 
 was certain in a few days!'* 
 
 As his eyes closed he wondered whether the twi- 
 light was of evening or of dawn. 
 
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