Only one sound broke the great stillness which had fallen on the camp.

It was the sound of a body of men singing:

"O G.o.d, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home."

Bob had heard both hymn and tune a hundred times in St. Ia. He thought, too, from the intonation of the men's voices, that they were Cornish lads who sang. For the moment he forgot where he was, and was oblivious to the fact that he was in the midst of a great armed host, and that tens of thousands of men were all around him, each armed with implements of death. He was in Cornwall again, and he was breathing the Sabbath morning air. He heard the church bells ringing in the distance, while the hymn he heard came from some humble Meeting House where simple people met together for prayer and praise.

"A thousand ages in Thy sight Are like an evening----"

"Some religious swabs," laughed one.

"Boom! boom! Crack, crack, boom!"

The hymn was broken off in the middle. The sound of guns was nearer than Bob had ever heard it before. The enemy had evidently decided upon a surprise attack.

A horrible screech rent the air, and, looking up, Bob saw an explosion.

It was as though a bouquet of fire were falling on them; and then he heard noises such as he had never heard before. It was the groans of the wounded; the cries of men pierced by arrows of fire; the moaning of brave fellows torn and mutilated for life.

The British guns answered the fire of the enemy, while all around quick, decisive commands were given.

For some hours after this Bob had only a vague remembrance of what took place. He knew that the position they now occupied had been captured from the enemy, who had receded only with the idea of endeavouring to take it again. Evidently they had kept the secret of their plans well, for from all the reports given on the previous night there had been no likelihood of an early attack. But for the Flying Corps they would have been utterly surprised, and even as it was their preparations had to be hurriedly made.

"Boom! boom!" bellowed forth the big guns.

"Crack! crack!" said the voices of a thousand rifles.

Bob's remembrance was that he was calmly fulfilling the orders that had been given to him, and that he was strangely oblivious of danger.

Event after event seemed to follow each other, like so many pictures in a cinema performance.

He remembered his men in their trenches coolly firing, while shot and sh.e.l.l fell thick around them.

Later, they moved forward, and took cover under some raised ground, where they lay silently and warily watching.

He was watching too. In his eagerness he had risen to his feet, and thus exposed himself to the sight of the enemy. The ground was torn up at his feet, and he felt something burning hot graze his arm, as if some one had touched him with a burning knife.

But he was unhurt! He knew that a bullet had only touched his arm. An inch to the right, and it would have missed him altogether; two inches to the left, and his arm would have been shattered; a foot to the left, and he would, in all probability, have been killed.

He saw a body of men in German uniform moving nearer to them. It was a great ma.s.s of soldiers, who came on in great blocks of sixty or eighty, four deep. The British waited silently, awaiting the word of command.

Eagerly they longed for the word, "Fire!"

At last it came, and almost as if by magic a thousand rifles went off at the same moment, leaving great gaps in the German ranks which had a few seconds before been filled with a living, breathing humanity.

Again the crack of rifles, and again gaps were made. But still the enemy came forward. Bob even thought he heard the cry of "_Vorwarts!

Vorwarts!_"

Now and then above the din he heard what seemed like the sound of singing. It sounded like the tune he had heard early in the morning.

Meanwhile the cannonade continued to rage. The heavens were full of bursting sh.e.l.ls, even the very skies seemed like h.e.l.l.

Hour after hour the fusillade continued, and presently there was a halt in the enemies' progress. They were falling back.

"Now at them! Give 'em ----"

There was a wild rush forward. How long it continued Bob could not tell. Behind them the big English guns were booming, and he knew that our artillery was pounding at the German trenches a long distance away.

Forward! forward!

Shot and sh.e.l.l were dropping thickly around, while on the right and left men were falling. In the distance lay the German trenches. Could they be reached? Yes, a few minutes later our men were in them. For a time at all events Bob's company was in comparative safety.

Panting aloud the hardy lads threw themselves into position. They had gained their immediate object, but could they hold it?

Suddenly amid the din a musical note rang out; it pierced the very heavens, it was more penetrating than the boom of the big guns, the screech of sh.e.l.ls, or the crack of rifles.

From the distant heather, perhaps half a mile away, men with clear sight could see great ma.s.ses of humanity in grey rise, seemingly out of the earth, and Bob heard the distant sound of fifes and drums.

"They are going to charge us!"

Who said this no one knew, but it did not matter. All knew it was true. Strong stalwart men they were who rushed madly forward. They were commanded to do so, and they must not disobey. Every step meant death to many, but Germany was careless about her losses. They must win the victory, they must get back the position they had lost, no matter what it might cost.

"We are lost!" thought Bob: "what are we against so many?"

But even before the thought had pa.s.sed his mind, out from their cover came the British--sections, companies, battalions.

Then, almost before Bob realised what was taking place, a great hand-to-hand carnage began. Shrieks, groans, cries filled the heavens.

From that time Bob ceased to be the quiet student who had aspirations after a serene scholastic life. He was an Englishman doing battle with a huge fighting machine. He was one of the many who determined to cut out the great cancer of Europe. England and all she stood for was at stake. Honour, faithfulness to promise, liberty, religion, all must be maintained!

He found himself facing a huge German. The German hesitated a second, and rushed on him. It was that moment's hesitation to which Bob owed his life. With all the strength of his right arm he parried the fearful lunge of the German, who rushed on him with fixed bayonet. A second later the man fell.

Bob shuddered as he saw him fall. What had he against the man he had killed? Nothing. Even at that moment he would gladly have helped him had he been able. Possibly, probably he had a wife or sweetheart somewhere, probably too he was a quiet, inoffensive fellow who had no desire to harm any one. In spite of the war fever which raged, the English had no personal animus against the Germans. But then they were not fighting against Germans, they were fighting against the War G.o.d which dominated Germany, they were fighting a system which threatened the liberty, the peace, the religion of Europe--the world.

All this killing was h.e.l.lish, but the cancer had to be cut out. If it were allowed to remain it would poison the life of the world.

"At 'em! at 'em!"

Blood and carnage everywhere; earth made h.e.l.l at the bidding of a bully, a madman who declared himself to be the vicegerent of G.o.d. Yes, the horrors of war could not be described in human language, but it had to be waged in order to destroy the h.e.l.lish doctrine that might was right, the hideous creed of "blood and iron."

CHAPTER XVII

The English army had, for the time being, occupied the trenches from which they had driven the Germans, and for a moment they were safe.

The enemy was moving away towards a distant hill, but a huge rearguard was on the alert.

The commanding officer knew that although a slight advantage had been gained, pursuit would be madness, so, taking advantage of the enemies'

trenches, they decided to await further events.