PHASE IV. REFLECTIONS

PHASE IV

AT I 2 noon the commander again inspected his garrison; finding all well with the anti-tank gun, he next visited the Lewis gun section in the house overlooking the bridge. The view was not very good from here, as it was restricted by the trees on the left bank of the river, but the road block could be clearly seen and there was a good field of fire for about 500 yards down the road beyond the bridge.

Smith was just about to leave when the alarm was again plainly heard. He decided to remain where he was and watch events from the window next to that through which the Lewis gun was sighted.

For an appreciable time nothing was seen or heard except the repetition of the alarm signal.

After a few minutes, however, Smith thought he could see something at the bend in the road beyond the bridge; although there were no trees there, there were a few bushes; moreover, there was a slight dip in the road. He wished he had gone to the church tower, and was on the point of making for that place when there was a heavy burst of fire from the direction of the road bend. This was answered by the Lewis gun. The situation, although somewhat unpleasant, was not very alarming After all, a couple of cars (for there appeared to be two machine guns firing) could not do much harm by having pot shots at them across the river, and although their bullets were striking the walls of the houses and must have been going pretty close to the anti-tank gun, it was well provided with cover and the men should be fairly all right.

The gun had not fired yet; probably the crew could not see the car as they were too low down. Smith started to reconnoitre a safe means of getting to the gun. He found that by going out of the back of the house he could enter the next house from the back door. By crawling on his hands and knees he got sufficient protection from the low garden wall to enable him to reach the gun in safety, although it was hot work with the bullets whizzing over his head and striking the wall above and behind him.

The Lewis gun was also making a fearful din, the combined effect making him somewhat excited.

"Why don't you shoot the blighter?" he shouted.

'I can't see him, sir," replied Corporal Wads.

"I'll show you where he is," cried Smith. He got up to look through the loophole, but hardly had he done so when he flung himself down again with a crash. An enemy armoured car, with its machine gun pointed straight at him, had just pulled up on the road, coming from the direction of Koln. By some miracle he fell right under the wall and so escaped the burst of fire, which, however, knocked out the entire gun's crew; the wall, of course, gave them no protection except from the front. Smith was no coward, but he realised that to move would mean instant death. So he remained where he was until he heard the car move on. Almost at once he became aware that someone was addressing him in a foreign tongue and decidedly unfriendly tone. Looking up, he saw a burly looking ruffian covering him with a revolver; it was clear that he was meant to get up and follow.

He was led out on to the road, where he was shortly joined by the remnants of the Lewis gun section under the escort of an equally unpleasant individual. By signs it was made quite clear to them what would happen if they attempted to escape.

The village appeared to be alive with armoured cars. Smith saw two on the Koln road and two on the road leading to Homburg, whilst two more were in the act of moving down to the bridge, towards which three or four cars were advancing from the other side of the river. The leading car on the right bank drove right up to the bridge before halting. A man jumped out to cut the wire entangled round the block.

Crack! Crack! Crack! rang out three rifle shots from the woods to the left of the road, and the man pitched forward on his face and lay still.

Smith could not suppress a shout of joy. "Corporal Johnston, by Jove! Well done, my lad." His escort did not share his joy, and would probably have committed an assault on him if an officer had not come up at that moment.

The prisoners now had the mortification of being helpless spectators to the unequal contest between the gallant little post guarding the road block and half a dozen armoured cars, all of which immediately opened fire into the woods from which the three shots had come. As there was no answering fire the cars soon stopped firing, but the officer in charge was not taking any more risks. One car was drawn up on either side of the block as close to it as possible, and all the available machine guns trained on to the place from where the shots had come, as well as on to the undergrowth on the opposite side of the road, before any further attempt was made to remove the obstruction.

Smith had no idea what had happened to Corporal Johnston and his two men. He could only hope that somehow they had escaped. Nor could he guess what had been the fate of the remainder of his platoon in the inn; no sounds of firing had been heard from there, so perhaps they were all right for the present.

The prisoners were eventually led into one of the houses facing the bridge, Smith being put into one room and the men into another, both rooms being upstairs and on opposite sides of the passage, the escort remaining in the passage.

Smith now had time for thought--and his thoughts were far from pleasant. How the devil had those beastly cars suddenly appeared from the direction of Koln ? The guide had assured him that the river was not fordable anywhere between Bowler and Koln, and he knew from the map that there were no bridges. Could the guide be a spy? That was very unlikely. He was an old soldier and appeared to be a decent chap; moreover, he had been vouched for by the Mayor of Lobsterburg. Anyhow, the damned things had got over somehow and he had miserably failed. Possibly someone else had failed, and that was how they had been able to come along and upset all his arrangements. They might also conceivably have crossed on a ferry or have been rafted over. He should, of course, have blocked the roads leading into the village; true, he had only one anti-tank gun, but he might have made road blocks and guarded them. The armoured car people were certainly no fools --that was a jolly good dodge, drawing up those cars to give shelter for the man who got out to move the road block. It appeared that the men detailed to guard the blocks would have more chance of preventing their removal if they were distributed on either side of it. He would do that next time. Next time? There would be no next time; he would probably spend the rest of the war in some rotten prisoner-of-war camp.

His reflections were interrupted by a considerable noise outside. Looking out, he saw large numbers of vehicles crossing the bridge and stretching back as far as he could see. They were obviously light tanks. The sight of them served to emphasise his failure; he could not bear to watch the very thing he had been sent to prevent. What a perfectly useless ass he had been!

Returning to the other side of the room where he could not see the results of his stupidity, he again surrendered himself to his gloomy reflections.

Except that he had omitted to block and guard the roads, he really could not see that he had committed any very glaring errors, or had omitted to do anything which he might reasonably bc expected to do. What had happened ? And what had been the enemy's little game ? Probably a few cars had come on to see if and how--the bridge was held. At the expense of one car he had found that it was held, but that the village was open to a flanking movement on the left bank. Some cars had then approached the bridge from the west sufficiently close to draw the defenders' attention and to pin them down by fire, whilst those which had crossed elsewhere crept up and took the defences in flank and rear. Perhaps it would have been better to have put the anti-tank gun in the house after all--it would have been safe from attack in the flank.

Smith went once more to the window to see what sort of view and field of fire the gun would have had from there. Looking out, he saw some funny-looking vehicles crossing the bridge; on closer inspection they proved to be light guns, carried on half-track vehicles. So they had guns knocking about, ready to make themselves objectionable if necessary!

What had he been told about guns? Many things--amongst others, that it is not wise to occupy a conspicuous or obvious building if there is any likelihood of being shelled. True, the house in question was not very conspicuous, as there were many houses in the village, but it was most certainly obvious in so much as it overlooked the bridge and was a likely place for an anti-tank weapon. No! on second thoughts, he would never put an anti-tank gun in a house unless he was reasonably certain that the house could not be shelled. Better to find some place where it cannot be easily spotted.

Smith had been up all night and had had a busy and exciting day. He felt somewhat tired, and wondered what the blighters would do with him. He wished he had something to eat; also he was horribly thirsty--there was nothing to drink in his room. Perhaps his jailer would get him a drink or allow him to get one. He seemed a stuffy sort of brute--better be careful about opening the door, or he might be shot.

He gently knocked--no answer.

He knocked again more loudly--still no answer.

Cautiously he opened the door and found the passage empty: like a flash the idea entered his head--escape.

Creeping across the passage he carefully opened the door opposite. There he found his fellow-prisoners. Quickly, but quietly, he explained his idea; telling them to remain where they were, he crept down the stairs to reconnoitre. He had just reached the bottom when his guard rushed at him, and before he could make any effort to defend himself he received a heavy blow on the jaw which knocked him sprawling on the floor.

Rolling over, he woke up to find that he had fallen out of bed and had hit his head on a chair in doing so.

"Gosh!" murmured Smith, as he rubbed his somewhat painful jaw, "too much lobster mayonnaise, I think."

REFLECTIONS

COMPLETELY woken UP by his fall, Smith did not at once go to s1eep again. He had a vivid recol1ection Of every detail Of his dream, or nightmare. He could, with the greatest ease, have drawn a sketch of Bowler and have given an accurate description of everything that happened there. Even more strange than this, he remembered perfectly well what his thoughts had been; above all, he remembered the 1essons he had 1earnt.

Being a young man not devoid of keenness and interest in his profession, he mused somewhat On these 1essons and wondered if he wou1d ever, in rea1ity, be Ca11ed upon to ho1d a bridge in circumstances Simi1ar to those in his dream.

Thc resu1t was that he 1ay awake for some considerable time, and before sleep had again 1aid its heavy hand upon him, he had inde1ibly fixed in his mind the methods he would adopt should the fortunes of war p1ace him in the position of Horatio Cocles, who so gallant1y, if somewhat spectacu1ar1y, he1d the bridge of Ancient Rome.

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