No Man's Land by Pete Ayrton Read Free Book Online

intense. The men scattered and disappeared towards the slope under heavy fire, while I maintained my position with three faithful followers. Suddenly one of them nudged me: ‘Lieutenant, the English!’And truly to the right a line of figures was kneeling shoulder to shoulder in two sections. As they rose, we ran away. I ran up against barbed wire treacherously stretched through the tall grass, went head over heels three times and tore my good trousers to shreds. During these events there was a tremendous noise in the wood, the rustling steps and the voices of at least 60 men were audible.
    So I ran away, fell over the wire, reached the slope and I managed to collect my men and to form a line into order. However, I really had to yell at the men, I grabbed some, threw them onto their place and ordered them to remain lying where they were. The commotion in the wood grew ever louder. I roared over to the wood for what must have been five minutes, and got only strange shouts in reply. Finally I took the responsibility and ordered fire to be opened, even though my men maintained they heard German accents. The shouting in the wood increased, as my 20 rifles rattled into it. There, too, there were yellow flashes from time to time. One man was shot in the shoulder and was bound where he was. I ordered cease fire. Everyone stopped shooting and I shouted once again ‘Password!’ and then: ‘ come here , you are prisoners , hands up !’ At that a great deal of shouting over there, my men maintained it sounded like Rache! Rache! [i.e. revenge]. Suddenly a figure detached itself from the edge of the wood and came towards us. Unfortunately I shouted at him, the fellow turned round and went back. ‘Shoot him down!’ A salvo followed. The fellow seemed dealt with. Some time passed, then the jabbering over there rose again. ‘Just let them approach!’ Cries came from the edge of the wood, which sounded as if good comrades were encouraging each other to go forward together. Then a line of grey shadows appeared, advancing towards us. ‘Steady fire!’The rifles banged beside me and above me, making my eardrums ring. In the middle of the field a small yellow flame still lit up from time to time, but was soon extinguished. Finally their whole left section advanced. I had one group wheel to the right and also sent these people my best wishes. Now it seemed to me that the moment for their withdrawal had come. I ordered: ‘On your feet, up, march, march!’We ran towards the edge of the wood, I with some good lads far ahead of the others, and broke into the wood with a loud hurrah. Unfortunately the other fellows had not held their ground but had run away. Consequently I moved to the right along the edge of the wood into the cornfield. There I sent all of the men except 8 back to company.
    While we were still standing in the cornfield we heard the English at the edge of the wood again, loud cries as well, as if the wounded were being picked up. We went round the wood and once again advanced along the break through the trees. The English had disappeared. From the meadow, where we had shot down the advancing line, we heard unfamiliar cries and moaning. We went over and saw several dead and wounded lying in the grass, who begged us for mercy. We took three of the figures hidden in the grass and dragged them with us. Now we also had living witnesses to our almost two-hour skirmish, one, however, died immediately, a bullet fired at close range had torn his skull apart. To my question: ‘Quelle nation?’ (They spoke French) one answered ‘Rajput.’ Aha so Indians! Something very special. None had been hit less than twice. One quickly shouted ‘Anglais pas bon.’ I quickly gave myself an English carbine with bayonet and then we made our way with the screaming prisoners to our trench, which we reached as dawn broke, welcomed by those who had remained behind, who stared in