Mr. Standfast John Buchan (e book reading free txt) đ
- Author: John Buchan
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I sent Archie back with these scraps of news and was about to make a rush for the house of one of the Press officers, who would, I thought, be in the way of knowing things, when at the station entrance I ran across Laidlaw. He had been B.G.G.S. in the corps to which my old brigade belonged, and was now on the staff of some army. He was striding towards a car when I grabbed his arm, and he turned on me a very sick face.
âGood Lord, Hannay! Where did you spring from? The news, you say?â He sank his voice, and drew me into a quiet corner. âThe news is hellish.â
âThey told me we were holding,â I observed.
âHolding be damned! The Boche is clean through on a broad front. He broke us today at Maissemy and Essigny. Yes, the battle-zone. Heâs flinging in division after division like the blows of a hammer. What else could you expect?â And he clutched my arm fiercely. âHow in Godâs name could eleven divisions hold a front of forty miles? And against four to one in numbers? It isnât war, itâs naked lunacy.â
I knew the worst now, and it didnât shock me, for I had known it was coming. Laidlawâs nerves were pretty bad, for his face was pale and his eyes bright like a man with a fever.
âReserves!â and he laughed bitterly. âWe have three infantry divisions and two cavalry. Theyâre into the mill long ago. The French are coming up on our right, but theyâve the devil of a way to go. Thatâs what Iâm down here about. And weâre getting help from Horne and Plumer. But all that takes days, and meantime weâre walking back like we did at Mons. And at this time of day, tooâ ââ ⊠Oh, yes, the whole lineâs retreating. Parts of it were pretty comfortable, but they had to get back or be put in the bag. I wish to Heaven I knew where our right divisions have got to. For all I know theyâre at Compiegne by now. The Boche was over the canal this morning, and by this time most likely heâs across the Somme.â
At that I exclaimed. âDâyou mean to tell me weâre going to lose Peronne?â
âPeronne!â he cried. âWeâll be lucky not to lose Amiens!â ââ ⊠And on the top of it all Iâve got some kind of blasted fever. Iâll be raving in an hour.â
He was rushing off, but I held him.
âWhat about my old lot?â I asked.
âOh, damned good, but theyâre shot all to bits. Every division did well. Itâs a marvel they werenât all scuppered, and itâll be a flaming miracle if they find a line they can stand on. Westwaterâs got a leg smashed. He was brought down this evening, and youâll find him in the hospital. Fraserâs killed and Lefroyâs a prisonerâ âat least, that was my last news. I donât know whoâs got the brigades, but Mastertonâs carrying on with the divisionâ ââ ⊠Youâd better get up the line as fast as you can and take over from him. See the Army Commander. Heâll be in Amiens tomorrow morning for a powwow.â
Laidlaw lay wearily back in his car and disappeared into the night, while I hurried to the train.
The others had descended to the platform and were grouped round Archie, who was discoursing optimistic nonsense. I got them into the carriage and shut the door.
âItâs pretty bad,â I said. âThe frontâs pierced in several places and weâre back to the Upper Somme. Iâm afraid it isnât going to stop there. Iâm off up the line as soon as I can get my orders. Wake, youâll come with me, for every man will be wanted. Blenkiron, youâll see Mary and Peter safe to England. Weâre just in time, for tomorrow it mightnât be easy to get out of Amiens.â
I can see yet the anxious faces in that ill-lit compartment. We said goodbye after the British style without much to-do. I remember that old Peter gripped my hand as if he would never release it, and that Maryâs face had grown very pale. If I delayed another second I should have howled, for Maryâs lips were trembling and Peter had eyes like a wounded stag. âGod bless you,â I said hoarsely, and as I went off I heard Peterâs voice, a little cracked, saying âGod bless you, my old friend.â
I spent some weary hours looking for Westwater. He was not in the big clearing station, but I ran him to earth at last in the new hospital which had just been got going in the Ursuline convent. He was the most sterling little man, in ordinary life rather dry and dogmatic, with a trick of taking you up sharply which didnât make him popular. Now he was lying very stiff and quiet in the hospital bed, and his blue eyes were solemn and pathetic like a sick dogâs.
âThereâs nothing much wrong with me,â he said, in reply to my question. âA shell dropped beside me and damaged my foot. They say theyâll have to cut it offâ ââ ⊠Iâve an easier mind now youâre here, Hannay. Of course youâll take over from Masterton. Heâs a good man but not quite up to his job. Poor Fraserâ âyouâve heard about Fraser. He was done in at the very start. Yes, a shell. And Lefroy. If heâs alive and not too badly smashed the Hun has got a troublesome prisoner.â
He was too sick to talk, but he wouldnât let me go.
âThe division was all right. Donât you believe anyone who says we didnât fight like heroes. Our outpost line held up the Hun for six hours, and only about a dozen men came back. We could have stuck it out in the battle-zone if both flanks hadnât been turned. They got through Crabbeâs left and came down the Verey ravine, and a big wave rushed Shropshire Woodâ ââ ⊠We fought it out yard by yard and didnât budge
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