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The Floating Press - F. Westerman Percy

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160 pages

English

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Today, battle tends to be characterized by advanced technologies. Little more than a century ago, in World War I, wartime exploits involved hand-to-hand combat and mustering up the guts to look your enemy right in the eye. This exciting battlefield tale follows the adventures of two soldiers tasked with the responsibility of carrying dispatches between regiments via a mode of transport that was a cutting-edge development at the time: the motorcycle.

Sujets

Adventure (Guyana)

Adventure

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 août 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776528486
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE DISPATCH-RIDERS
THE ADVENTURES OF TWO BRITISH MOTORCYCLISTS IN THE GREAT WAR
* * *
PERCY F. WESTERMAN

*
The Dispatch-Riders The Adventures of Two British Motorcyclists in the Great War First published in 1915 ISBN 978-1-77652-848-6 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - The Coming Storm Chapter II - A Break-Down Chapter III - Major Résimont Chapter IV - Enlisted Chapter V - A Baptism of Fire Chapter VI - A Vain Assault Chapter VII - Disabling a Taube Chapter VIII - In British Uniforms Chapter IX - A Midnight Retirement Chapter X - The Uhlan Patrol Chapter XI - The Raid on Tongres Chapter XII - The Mail Escort Chapter XIII - Separated Chapter XIV - A Friend in Need Chapter XV - Captured Chapter XVI - Entombed Chapter XVII - The Way Out Chapter XVIII - Through the Enemy's Lines Chapter XIX - Arrested as Spies Chapter XX - Stranded in Brussels Chapter XXI - Denounced Chapter XXII - The Sack of Louvain Chapter XXIII - A Bolt from the Blue Chapter XXIV - Across the Frontier Chapter XXV - Thelma Everest Chapter XXVI - Self-Accused Chapter XXVII - With the Naval Brigade at Antwerp Chapter XXVIII - When the City Fell Chapter XXIX - On the North Sea Chapter XXX - The Victorious White Ensign
Chapter I - The Coming Storm
*
"Let's make for Liége," exclaimed Kenneth Everest.
"What's that?" asked his chum, Rollo Harrington. "Liége? What onearth possesses you to suggest Liége? A crowded manufacturing town,with narrow streets and horrible pavé . I thought we decided to fightshy of heavy traffic?"
The two speakers were seated at an open window of the Hôtel Doré, inthe picturesque town of Dinant. In front of them flowed the Meuse; itsplacid water rippled with craft of varying sizes. Huge barges, towedby snorting tugs, were laboriously passing along the busy internationalwaterway that serves an empire, a kingdom, and a republic. On theremote bank, and to the right of a bridge, were the quaint red-tiledhouses of the town, above which rose the fantastic, pinnacled tower ofthe thirteenth-century church of Notre Dame, in turn overshadowed bythe frowning limestone crag on which stands the citadel.
Kenneth was a well-set-up English youth of seventeen. He was tall forhis age, and withal broad-shouldered and well-knit. His features weredark, his skin burnt a deep tan by reason of more than a noddingacquaintance with an open-air life. In character and action he wasimpulsive. He had the happy knack of making up his mind on the spur ofthe moment, and yet at the same time forming a fairly sound judgment.He was quick, too, with his fingers, having been gifted with a keen,mechanical turn of mind.
Rollo Barrington, who was his companion's junior by the space of threedays, was rather the reverse of his versatile friend. He was shorterin height by a good four inches; he was slightly built, although hepossessed an unlooked-for reserve of physical strength and endurance.He was fresh-complexioned, with blue eyes and wavy chestnut hair.
If Kenneth acted upon impulse, Rollo went by rule of thumb. He wascool and calculating when occasion served; but when in the company ofhis chum he was generally content to allow his will to be dominated bythe impetuous Everest.
Both lads were at St. Cyprian's—a public school of note in the HomeCounties. The vacation started about the middle of July, and it wasthe custom for the senior members to put in a fortnight's camp with theOfficers' Training Corps during the latter part of that month.
At the time this story opens—the first day of August, 1914—the twochums were on a motor-cycling tour through Northern France and Belgium.The parents of neither had offered any objection when their respectivesons announced their intention of wandering through the high-roads andby-roads of that part of the Continent.
Kenneth had sprung the suggestion upon his father like the proverbialbombshell; and Mr. Everest, who was largely responsible for his son'simpetuosity, merely acquiesced by observing: "You lucky young dog! Ididn't have the chance when I was your age. Well, I hope you'll have agood time."
On his part Rollo had broached the subject with his customarydeliberation, and Colonel Barrington had not only given his consent,but had gone to the extreme toil of producing maps and a Baedeker, andhad mapped out a route—to which neither of the lads had adhered. TheColonel also realized that there was a considerable amount ofself-education to be derived from the tour. There was nothing liketravel, he declared, to expand the mind; following up this statement bythe practical action of "forking out", thereby relieving his son of anyfear of pecuniary embarrassment.
Both lads rode identically similar motor-cycles—tourist models, of 3-½horse-power, fitted with three-speed hubs. But again the difference incharacter manifested itself in the care of their respective steeds.
Rollo had been a motor-cyclist ever since he was fourteen—as soon ashe was qualified in point of age to obtain a driver's licence. Theclose attention he bestowed upon his motor-bike never varied; he keptit as clean as he did in the first few days after taking over his newpurchase. He had thoroughly mastered its peculiarities, and studiedboth the theory and practice of its mechanism.
Kenneth Everest had first bestrode the saddle of a motor-cycle a weekbefore their Continental tour began. No doubt his experience as a"push-cyclist" helped him considerably; he quickly mastered the use ofthe various controls, without troubling to find out "how it worked".With his companion's knowledge at his back he felt quite at ease,since, in the event of any mechanical break-down, Rollo would point outthe fault, and Kenneth's ready fingers would either do or undo the rest.
But so far, with the exception of a few tyre troubles, bothmotor-cyclists had done remarkably well. Landing at Havre, they hadpushed on, following the route taken by the English army that had wonAgincourt. This, by the by, was Rollo's suggestion. From the site ofthe historic battle-field they had sped eastward, through Arras, St.Quentin, and Mézières. Here, finding themselves in the valley of theMeuse, they had turned northward, and passing through the Frenchfrontier fortress of Givet, entered Belgium, spending the first nighton Belgian soil in picturesque Dinant.
Hitherto they had overcome the initial difficulty that confrontsBritish road users in France—the fact that all traffic keeps, or issupposed to keep, to the right. They had endured the horrible andseemingly never-ending cobbles or pavé . The language presentedlittle difficulty, for Kenneth, prior to having joined St. Cyprian's,had been educated in Paris; and although his Parisian accent differedsomewhat from the patois of the Ardennes, he had very little trouble inmaking himself understood. Rollo, too, was a fairly proficient Frenchlinguist, since, in view of his future military career, he had appliedhimself with his usual diligence to the study of the language.
"I say, what's this wheeze about Liége?" persisted Harrington."There's something in the wind, old chap."
"It's not exactly Liége I want to see," replied Kenneth, "although it'sa fine, interesting old place, with a history. Fact is, my sisterThelma is at a boarding-school at Visé—that's only a few miles fartheron—and we might just as well look her up."
"By Jove! I ought to have remembered. I knew she was somewhere inBelgium. Let me see, she's your youngest sister?"
"Twelve months my junior," replied Kenneth, "and a jolly good pal sheis, too. It's rather rough luck on her. The pater's just off on thatMediterranean trip, so she hasn't been able to go home for theholidays. We'll just cheer her up a bit."
Rollo gave a final glance at the map before folding it and placing itin his pocket. In response to a summons, the garçon produced the billand gratefully accepted the modest tip that Everest bestowed upon himwith becoming public schoolboy dignity.
This done, the two lads took their travelling cases and made their wayto the hotel garage, where their motor-cycles had been placed underlock and key, out of the reach of sundry inquisitive and mischievousBelgian gamins.
"Hello! What's the excitement?" asked Kenneth, pointing to a crowd ofgesticulating townsfolk gathered round a notice that had just beenpasted to a wall.
"Ask me another," rejoined his companion. "A circus or something ofthe sort about to turn up, I suppose. If you're curious I'll hang onhere while you go and find out."
Kenneth was off like a shot. Half-way across the bridge that herespans the Meuse he nearly collided with the proprietor of the HôtelDoré. The man's face was red with excitement.
"Quel dommage!" he exclaimed, in reply to the lad's unspoken question."The Government has ordered the army to mobilize. Whatinconsideration! Jules, Michel, Georges, and Étienne—all will have togo. I shall be left without a single garçon. And the busy seasonapproaches also."
"Why is the army to be mobilized, then?"
"Ciel! I know not. We Belgians do not require soldiers. We are menof peace. Has not our neutrality been guaranteed by our neighbours?And, notwithstanding, the Government must have men to vie with theFrench piou-piou , give them rifles, and put them in uniforms at theexpense of the community. It is inconceivable!"
The proprietor, unable to contain his feelings, rushed back to thehotel, while Kenneth, still wishing to satisfy his curiosity by