Mr. Standfast

J >> John Buchan >> Mr. Standfast

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I had another man who wasn't what you might call normal, and
that was Wake. He was the opposite of shell-shocked, if you understand
me. He had never been properly under fire before, but he
didn't give a straw for it. I had known the same thing with other
men, and they generally ended by crumpling up, for it isn't natural
that five or six feet of human flesh shouldn't be afraid of what can
torture and destroy it. The natural thing is to be always a little
scared, like me, but by an effort of the will and attention to work
to contrive to forget it. But Wake apparently never gave it a
thought. He wasn't foolhardy, only indifferent. He used to go
about with a smile on his face, a smile of contentment. Even the
horrors - and we had plenty of them - didn't affect him. His eyes,
which used to be hot, had now a curious open innocence like
Peter's. I would have been happier if he had been a little rattled.

One night, after we had had a bad day of anxiety, I talked to him
as we smoked in what had once been a French dug-out. He was an
extra right arm to me, and I told him so. 'This must be a queer
experience for you,' I said.

'Yes,' he replied, 'it is very wonderful. I did not think a man
could go through it and keep his reason. But I know many things I
did not know before. I know that the soul can be reborn without
leaving the body.'

I stared at him, and he went on without looking at me.

'You're not a classical scholar, Hannay? There was a strange cult
in the ancient world, the worship of Magna Mater - the Great
Mother. To enter into her mysteries the votary passed through a
bath of blood - - - I think I am passing through that bath. I think
that like the initiate I shall be _renatus _in _aeternum - reborn into the
eternal.'

I advised him to have a drink, for that talk frightened me. It
looked as if he were becoming what the Scots call 'fey'. Lefroy
noticed the same thing and was always speaking about it. He was as
brave as a bull himself, and with very much the same kind of
courage; but Wake's gallantry perturbed him. 'I can't make the
chap out,' he told me. 'He behaves as if his mind was too full of
better things to give a damn for Boche guns. He doesn't take
foolish risks - I don't mean that, but he behaves as if risks didn't
signify. It's positively eerie to see him making notes with a steady
hand when shells are dropping like hailstones and we're all thinking
every minute's our last. You've got to be careful with him, sir. He's
a long sight too valuable for us to spare.'

Lefroy was right about that, for I don't know what I should
have done without him. The worst part of our job was to keep
touch with our flanks, and that was what I used Wake for. He
covered country like a moss-trooper, sometimes on a rusty bicycle,
oftener on foot, and you couldn't tire him. I wonder what other
divisions thought of the grimy private who was our chief means of
communication. He knew nothing of military affairs before, but he
got the hang of this rough-and-tumble fighting as if he had been
born for it. He never fired a shot; he carried no arms; the only
weapons he used were his brains. And they were the best conceivable.
I never met a staff officer who was so quick at getting a point or at
sizing up a situation. He had put his back into the business, and
first-class talent is not common anywhere. One day a G. S. O. from
a neighbouring division came to see me.
'Where on earth did you pick up that man Wake?' he asked.

'He's a conscientious objector and a non-combatant,' I said.

'Then I wish to Heaven we had a few more conscientious objectors
in this show. He's the only fellow who seems to know anything
about this blessed battle. My general's sending you a chit about
him.'

'No need,' I said, laughing. 'I know his value. He's an old friend
of mine.'

I used Wake as my link with Corps Headquarters, and especially
with Blenkiron. For about the sixth day of the show I was beginning
to get rather desperate. This kind of thing couldn't go on for ever.
We were miles back now, behind the old line Of '17, and, as we
rested one flank on the river, the immediate situation was a little
easier. But I had lost a lot of men, and those that were left were blind
with fatigue. The big bulges of the enemy to north and south had
added to the length of the total front, and I found I had to fan out
my thin ranks. The Boche was still pressing on, though his impetus
was slacker. If he knew how little there was to stop him in my
section he might make a push which would carry him to Amiens.
Only the magnificent work of our airmen had prevented him getting
that knowledge, but we couldn't keep the secrecy up for ever.
Some day an enemy plane would get over, and it only needed the
drive of a fresh storm-battalion or two to scatter us. I wanted a
good prepared position, with sound trenches and decent wiring.
Above all I wanted reserves - reserves. The word was on my lips
all day and it haunted my dreams. I was told that the French were
to relieve us, but when - when? My reports to Corps Headquarters
were one long wail for more troops. I knew there was a position
prepared behind us, but I needed men to hold it.

Wake brought in a message from Blenkiron. 'We're waiting for
you, Dick,' he wrote, 'and we've gotten quite a nice little home
ready for you. This old man hasn't hustled so hard since he struck
copper in Montana in '92. We've dug three lines of trenches and
made a heap of pretty redoubts, and I guess they're well laid out,
for the Army staff has supervised them and they're no slouches at
this brand of engineering. You would have laughed to see the
labour we employed. We had all breeds of Dago and Chinaman,
and some of your own South African blacks, and they got so busy
on the job they forgot about bedtime. I used to be reckoned a bit
of a slave driver, but my special talents weren't needed with this
push. I'm going to put a lot of money into foreign missions
henceforward.'

I wrote back: 'Your trenches are no good without men. For God's
sake get something that can hold a rifle. My lot are done to the world.'

Then I left Lefroy with the division and went down on the back
of an ambulance to see for myself. I found Blenkiron, some of the
Army engineers, and a staff officer from Corps Headquarters, and I
found Archie Roylance.

They had dug a mighty good line and wired it nobly. It ran from
the river to the wood of La Bruyere on the little hill above the
Ablain stream. It was desperately long, but I saw at once it couldn't
well be shorter, for the division on the south of us had its hands
full with the fringe of the big thrust against the French.

'It's no good blinking the facts,' I told them. 'I haven't a thousand
men, and what I have are at the end of their tether. If you put 'em
in these trenches they'll go to sleep on their feet. When can the
French take over?'

I was told that it had been arranged for next morning, but that it
had now been put off twenty-four hours. It was only a temporary
measure, pending the arrival of British divisions from the north.

Archie looked grave. 'The Boche is pushin' up new troops in
this sector. We got the news before I left squadron headquarters.
It looks as if it would be a near thing, sir.'

'It won't be a near thing. It's an absolute black certainty. My
fellows can't carry on as they are another day. Great God, they've
had a fortnight in hell! Find me more men or we buckle up at the
next push.' My temper was coming very near its limits.

'We've raked the country with a small-tooth comb, sir,' said one
of the staff officers. 'And we've raised a scratch pack. Best part of
two thousand. Good men, but most of them know nothing about
infantry fighting. We've put them into platoons, and done our best
to give them some kind of training. There's one thing may cheer
you. We've plenty of machine-guns. There's a machine-gun school
near by and we got all the men who were taking the course and all
the plant.'

I don't suppose there was ever such a force put into the field
before. It was a wilder medley than Moussy's camp-followers at
First Ypres. There was every kind of detail in the shape of men
returning from leave, representing most of the regiments in the
army. There were the men from the machine-gun school. There
were Corps troops - sappers and A.S.C., and a handful of Corps
cavalry. Above all, there was a batch of American engineers,
fathered by Blenkiron. I inspected them where they were drilling
and liked the look of them. 'Forty-eight hours,' I said to myself.
'With luck we may just pull it off.'

Then I borrowed a bicycle and went back to the division. But
before I left I had a word with Archie. 'This is one big game of
bluff, and it's you fellows alone that enable us to play it. Tell your
people that everything depends on them. They mustn't stint the
planes in this sector, for if the Boche once suspicions how little he's
got before him the game's up. He's not a fool and he knows that
this is the short road to Amiens, but he imagines we're holding it in
strength. If we keep up the fiction for another two days the thing's
done. You say he's pushing up troops?'

'Yes, and he's sendin' forward his tanks.'

'Well, that'll take time. He's slower now than a week ago and
he's got a deuce of a country to march over. There's still an outside
chance we may win through. You go home and tell the R.F.C.
what I've told you.'

He nodded. 'By the way, sir, Pienaar's with the squadron. He
would like to come up and see you.'

'Archie,' I said solemnly, 'be a good chap and do me a favour. If
I think Peter's anywhere near the line I'll go off my head with
worry. This is no place for a man with a bad leg. He should have
been in England days ago. Can't you get him off - to Amiens, anyhow?'

'We scarcely like to. You see, we're all desperately sorry for him,
his fun gone and his career over and all that. He likes bein' with us
and listenin' to our yarns. He has been up once or twice too. The
Shark-Gladas. He swears it's a great make, and certainly he knows
how to handle the little devil.'

'Then for Heaven's sake don't let him do it again. I look to you,
Archie, remember. Promise.'

'Funny thing, but he's always worryin' about you. He has a map
on which he marks every day the changes in the position, and he'd
hobble a mile to pump any of our fellows who have been up your
way.'

That night under cover of darkness I drew back the division to
the newly prepared lines. We got away easily, for the enemy was busy
with his own affairs. I suspected a relief by fresh troops.

There was no time to lose, and I can tell you I toiled to get
things straight before dawn. I would have liked to send my own
fellows back to rest, but I couldn't spare them yet. I wanted them
to stiffen the fresh lot, for they were veterans. The new position
was arranged on the same principles as the old front which had
been broken on March 21st. There was our forward zone, consisting
of an outpost line and redoubts, very cleverly sited, and a line of
resistance. Well behind it were the trenches which formed the
battle-zone. Both zones were heavily wired, and we had plenty of
machine-guns; I wish I could say we had plenty of men who knew
how to use them. The outposts were merely to give the alarm and
fall back to the line of resistance which was to hold out to the last.
In the forward zone I put the freshest of my own men, the units
being brought up to something like strength by the details returning
from leave that the Corps had commandeered. With them I put the
American engineers, partly in the redoubts and partly in companies
for counter-attack. Blenkiron had reported that they could shoot
like Dan'l Boone, and were simply spoiling for a fight. The rest of
the force was in the battle-zone, which was our last hope. If that
went the Boche had a clear walk to Amiens. Some additional field
batteries had been brought up to support our very weak divisional
artillery. The front was so long that I had to put all three of my
emaciated brigades in the line, so I had nothing to speak of in
reserve. It was a most almighty gamble.

We had found shelter just in time. At 6.3o next day - for a
change it was a clear morning with clouds beginning to bank up
from the west - the Boche let us know he was alive. He gave us a
good drenching with gas shells which didn't do much harm, and
then messed up our forward zone with his trench mortars. At 7.20
his men began to come on, first little bunches with machine-guns
and then the infantry in waves. It was clear they were fresh troops,
and we learned afterwards from prisoners that they were Bavarians -
6th or 7th, I forget which, but the division that hung us up at
Monchy. At the same time there was the sound of a tremendous
bombardment across the river. It looked as if the main battle had
swung from Albert and Montdidier to a direct push for Amiens.
I have often tried to write down the events of that day. I tried it
in my report to the Corps; I tried it in my own diary; I tried it
because Mary wanted it; but I have never been able to make any
story that hung together. Perhaps I was too tired for my mind to
retain clear impressions, though at the time I was not conscious of
special fatigue. More likely it is because the fight itself was so
confused, for nothing happened according to the books and the
orderly soul of the Boche must have been scarified ...
At first it went as I expected. The outpost line was pushed in,
but the fire from the redoubts broke up the advance, and enabled
the line of resistance in the forward zone to give a good account of
itself. There was a check, and then another big wave, assisted by a
barrage from field-guns brought far forward. This time the line of
resistance gave at several points, and Lefroy flung in the Americans
in a counter-attack. That was a mighty performance. The engineers,
yelling like dervishes, went at it with the bayonet, and those that
preferred swung their rifles as clubs. It was terribly costly fighting
and all wrong, but it succeeded. They cleared the Boche out of a
ruined farm he had rushed, and a little wood, and re-established our
front. Blenkiron, who saw it all, for he went with them and got the
tip of an ear picked off by a machine-gun bullet, hadn't any words
wherewith to speak of it. 'And I once said those boys looked
puffy,' he moaned.

The next phase, which came about midday, was the tanks. I had
never seen the German variety, but had heard that it was speedier
and heavier than ours, but unwieldy. We did not see much of their
speed, but we found out all about their clumsiness. Had the things
been properly handled they should have gone through us like
rotten wood. But the whole outfit was bungled. It looked good
enough country for the use of them, but the men who made our
position had had an eye to this possibility. The great monsters,
mounting a field-gun besides other contrivances, wanted something
like a highroad to be happy in. They were useless over anything
like difficult ground. The ones that came down the main road got
on well enough at the start, but Blenkiron very sensibly had mined
the highway, and we blew a hole like a diamond pit. One lay
helpless at the foot of it, and we took the crew prisoner; another
stuck its nose over and remained there till our field-guns got the
range and knocked it silly. As for the rest - there is a marshy
lagoon called the Patte d'Oie beside the farm of Gavrelle, which
runs all the way north to the river, though in most places it only
seems like a soft patch in the meadows. This the tanks had to cross
to reach our line, and they never made it. Most got bogged, and
made pretty targets for our gunners; one or two returned; and one
the Americans, creeping forward under cover of a little stream,
blew up with a time fuse.

By the middle of the afternoon I was feeling happier. I knew the
big attack was still to come, but I had my forward zone intact and I
hoped for the best. I remember I was talking to Wake, who had
been going between the two zones, when I got the first warning of
a new and unexpected peril. A dud shell plumped down a few yards from me.

'Those fools across the river are firing short and badly off the
straight,' I said.

Wake examined the shell. 'No, it's a German one,' he said.

Then came others, and there could be no mistake about the
direction - followed by a burst of machine-gun fire from the same
quarter. We ran in cover to a point from which we could see the
north bank of the river, and I got my glass on it. There was a lift of
land from behind which the fire was coming. We looked at each
other, and the same conviction stood in both faces. The Boche had
pushed down the northern bank, and we were no longer in line
with our neighbours. The enemy was in a situation to catch us with
his fire on our flank and left rear. We couldn't retire to conform,
for to retire meant giving up our prepared position.

It was the last straw to all our anxieties, and for a moment I was
at the end of my wits. I turned to Wake, and his calm eyes pulled
me together.

'If they can't retake that ground, we're fairly carted,' I said.

'We are. Therefore they must retake it.'

'I must get on to Mitchinson.' But as I spoke I realized the
futility of a telephone message to a man who was pretty hard up
against it himself. Only an urgent appeal could effect anything ... I
must go myself ... No, that was impossible. I must send Lefroy
... But he couldn't be spared. And all my staff officers were up to
their necks in the battle. Besides, none of them knew the position
as I knew it ... And how to get there? It was a long way round by
the bridge at Loisy.

Suddenly I was aware of Wake's voice. 'You had better send
me,' he was saying. 'There's only one way - to swim the river a
little lower down.'

'That's too damnably dangerous. I won't send any man to certain death.'

'But I volunteer,' he said. 'That, I believe, is always allowed in war.'

'But you'll be killed before you can cross.'

'Send a man with me to watch. If I get over, you may be sure I'll get to
General Mitchinson. If not, send somebody else by Loisy. There's
desperate need for hurry, and you see yourself it's the only way.'

The time was past for argument. I scribbled a line to Mitchinson
as his credentials. No more was needed, for Wake knew the position
as well as I did. I sent an orderly to accompany him to his starting-
place on the bank.

'Goodbye,' he said, as we shook hands. 'You'll see, I'll come
back all right.' His face, I remember, looked singularly happy.
Five minutes later the Boche guns opened for the final attack.

I believe I kept a cool head; at least so Lefroy and the others
reported. They said I went about all afternoon grinning as if I liked
it, and that I never raised my voice once. (It's rather a fault of mine
that I bellow in a scrap.) But I know I was feeling anything but
calm, for the problem was ghastly. It all depended on Wake and
Mitchinson. The flanking fire was so bad that I had to give up the
left of the forward zone, which caught it fairly, and retire the men
there to the battle-zone. The latter was better protected, for between
it and the river was a small wood and the bank rose into a bluff
which sloped inwards towards us. This withdrawal meant a switch,
and a switch isn't a pretty thing when it has to be improvised in the
middle of a battle.

The Boche had counted on that flanking fire. His plan was to
break our two wings - the old Boche plan which crops up in every
fight. He left our centre at first pretty well alone, and thrust along
the river bank and to the wood of La Bruyere, where we linked up
with the division on our right. Lefroy was in the first area, and
Masterton in the second, and for three hours it was as desperate a
business as I have ever faced ... The improvised switch went, and
more and more of the forward zone disappeared. It was a hot, clear
spring afternoon, and in the open fighting the enemy came on like
troops at manoeuvres. On the left they got into the battle-zone, and
I can see yet Lefroy's great figure leading a counter-attack in person,
his face all puddled with blood from a scalp wound ...

I would have given my soul to be in two places at once, but I
had to risk our left and keep close to Masterton, who needed me
most. The wood of La Bruyere was the maddest sight. Again and
again the Boche was almost through it. You never knew where he
was, and most of the fighting there was duels between machine-gun
parties. Some of the enemy got round behind us, and only a fine
performance of a company of Cheshires saved a complete breakthrough.

As for Lefroy, I don't know how he stuck it out, and he doesn't
know himself, for he was galled all the time by that accursed
flanking fire. I got a note about half past four saying that Wake had
crossed the river, but it was some weary hours after that before the
fire slackened. I tore back and forward between my wings, and
every time I went north I expected to find that Lefroy had broken.
But by some miracle he held. The Boches were in his battle-zone
time and again, but he always flung them out. I have a recollection of
Blenkiron, stark mad, encouraging his Americans with strange
tongues. Once as I passed him I saw that he had his left arm tied
up. His blackened face grinned at me. 'This bit of landscape's
mighty unsafe for democracy,' he croaked. 'For the love of Mike
get your guns on to those devils across the river. They're plaguing
my boys too bad.'

It was about seven o'clock, I think, when the flanking fire slacked
off, but it was not because of our divisional guns. There was a
short and very furious burst of artillery fire on the north bank, and
I knew it was British. Then things began to happen. One of our
planes - they had been marvels all day, swinging down like hawks
for machine-gun bouts with the Boche infantry - reported that
Mitchinson was attacking hard and getting on well. That eased my
mind, and I started off for Masterton, who was in greater straits
than ever, for the enemy seemed to be weakening on the river bank
and putting his main strength in against our right ... But my
G.S.O.2 stopped me on the road. 'Wake,' he said. 'He wants to see you.'

'Not now,' I cried.

'He can't live many minutes.'

I turned and followed him to the ruinous cowshed which was my
divisional headquarters. Wake, as I heard later, had swum the river
opposite to Mitchinson's right, and reached the other shore safely,
though the current was whipped with bullets. But he had scarcely
landed before he was badly hit by shrapnel in the groin. Walking at
first with support and then carried on a stretcher, he managed to
struggle on to the divisional headquarters, where he gave my message
and explained the situation. He would not let his wound be
looked to till his job was done. Mitchinson told me afterwards that
with a face grey from pain he drew for him a sketch of our position
and told him exactly how near we were to our end ... After that he
asked to be sent back to me, and they got him down to Loisy in a
crowded ambulance, and then up to us in a returning empty. The
M.O. who looked at his wound saw that the thing was hopeless,
and did not expect him to live beyond Loisy. He was bleeding
internally and no surgeon on earth could have saved him.

When he reached us he was almost pulseless, but he recovered
for a moment and asked for me.

I found him, with blue lips and a face drained of blood, lying on
my camp bed. His voice was very small and far away.

'How goes it?' he asked.

'Please God, we'll pull through ... thanks to you, old man.'

'Good,' he said and his eyes shut.

He opened them once again.

'Funny thing life. A year ago I was preaching peace ... I'm still
preaching it ... I'm not sorry.'

I held his hand till two minutes later he died.

In the press of a fight one scarcely realizes death, even the death of
a friend. It was up to me to make good my assurance to Wake, and
presently I was off to Masterton. There in that shambles of La
Bruyere, while the light faded, there was a desperate and most
bloody struggle. It was the last lap of the contest. Twelve hours
now, I kept telling myself, and the French will be here and we'll
have done our task. Alas! how many of us would go back to rest?
... Hardly able to totter, our counter-attacking companies went in
again. They had gone far beyond the limits of mortal endurance,
but the human spirit can defy all natural laws. The balance trembled,
hung, and then dropped the right way. The enemy impetus
weakened, stopped, and the ebb began.

I wanted to complete the job. Our artillery put up a sharp barrage,
and the little I had left comparatively fresh I sent in for a counter-
stroke. Most of the men were untrained, but there was that in our
ranks which dispensed with training, and we had caught the enemy
at the moment of lowest vitality. We pushed him out of La Bruyere,
we pushed him back to our old forward zone, we pushed him out of
that zone to the position from which he had begun the day.

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