PART V
"... The only weak spot in the Wabbly's design, apparently, was the necessity of using its entire engine-power in the power-beam with which it protected itself and its attendant bombers from aerial attack. For a time, before New Brunswick, it was forced to remain still, under fire, while it fought off and destroyed an attacking fleet eight miles above it. With sufficiently powerful artillery, it might have been destroyed at that moment. But it was invulnerable to the artillery available.... Deliberately false statements were broadcast to reassure the public, but the public was already skeptical, as it later became incredulous, of official reports of victories. The destruction of New Brunswick became known despite official denials, and colossal riots broke out among the inhabitants of the larger cities, intent upon escape from defenseless towns.... Orders were actually issued withdrawing a quarter of a million men from the front-line reserve, with artillery in proportion to their force." (_Strategic Lessons of the War of 1941-43._--U. S. War College. P. 92.)
The major-general left them at the town, now quite still and silent.Sergeant Walpole said detachedly:
"We'll prob'ly find a portable sender, sir, an' trail the Wabbly. That'sabout all we can do, sir."
"It looks," said the major-general rather desperately, "as if that isall anybody can do. I'm going on to take command ahead."
The 'copter pilot said politely:
"Sir, if you're going to sow mines for the Wabbly--"
"Of course!"
"That power-beam can explode them, sir, before the Wabbly gets to them.May I suggest, sir, that mine-cases with no metal in them at all wouldbe worth trying?"
"Thank you," said the major-general grimly. "I'll have concrete onesmade."
Sergeant Walpole grunted suddenly.
"Look here, sir! The Wabbly stops when it uses that dinkus on top. Thisguy here says it uses a lotta power--four or five thousan' horsepower."
"More likely ten or twenty," said the 'copter pilot.
"Maybe," said Sergeant Walpole profoundly, "it takes all the power theygot to work that dinkus. They were workin' it just now when theartillery was slammin' 'em. So next time you want to tackle it, stick aflock o' bombs around an' attack the bombers too. If they're kept busydown below, maybe the planes can get the bombers, or otherwise they'llget a chance to use a big gun on the Wabbly."
The major-general nodded.
"We four," he observed, "are the only living men who've actually seenthe Wabbly and gotten away. I shall use both your suggestions. And Ishall not send those orders by radio--not even tight beam radio. I'llcarry them myself. Good luck!"
A non-commissioned officer of the Eastern Coast Observation Force and ayet uncommissioned flying cadet waved a cheerful good-by to themajor-general in charge of home defense in three states. Then they wenton into the town.
"Monocycles first," said Sergeant Walpole. "An' a sender."
* * * * *
The 'copter man nodded. The street-lights of the town dimmed andbrightened. The Wabbly had paused only to create havoc, not to produceutter chaos. It had gone back and forth over the town two or threetimes, spewing out gas as it went. But most of the town was stillstanding, and the power-house had not been touched. Only its untendedDiesels had checked before a fuel-pump cleared.
They found a cycle-shop, its back wall bulged in by wreckage against it.Sergeant Walpole inspected its wares expertly. A voice began to speaksuddenly. A television set had somehow been turned on by the crash thatbulged the back wall.
"The monster tank has been held in check," said a smug voiceencouragingly. "Encountered by home-defense troops and artillery, itproved unable to face shell-fire...."
"Liars!" said the 'copter man calmly. He picked up the nearest looseobject and flung it into the bland face of the official news-announcer.The television set went dead, but there were hissings and sputterings inits interior. He had flung a Bissel battery at it, one of adisplay-group, and its high-tension terminals hissed and sparked amongthe stray wires in the cabinet.
"That makes me mad," said the 'copter man grimly. "Lying for morale! Theother side murders our civilians to break down morale, and our side liesabout it to build morale back up again. To hell with morale!"
Sergeant Walpole reached in and pulled out the battery. Bissel batteriesturn out six hundred volts these days, and they make a fat spark whenshort-circuited.
"For Gawd's sake!" said Sergeant Walpole. "If they can pick up sparksfrom a motor, can't they pick 'em up from this? What the hell y'doin'?Y'want 'em droppin' eggs on us? Say!"
* * * * *
He stopped short, his eyes burning. He began to talk, suddenly gropingfor words while he waved the high-powered small battery in his hand. Thehelicopter man listened, at first skeptically and then with an equallyhungry enthusiasm.
"Sergeant," he said evenly, "that's an idea! A whale of an idea! A hellof a fine idea! Let's get some rockets!"
"Why rockets?" demanded Sergeant Walpole in his turn. "Whatcha want todo? Celebrate the Fourth o' July?"
The 'copter man explained, this time, and Sergeant Walpole seized uponthe addition. Then they began a hunt. They roved the town over, and itwas not pleasant. When the Wabbly had gone into that town there hadstill been very many living human beings in it. Some of them hadbelieved in the ability of the artillery to defend the town against asingle monster. Some had had no means of getting away. But all of themhad tried to get away when the Wabbly went lurching in among the houses.
For them, the Wabbly had spewed out deadly gases. Also it had simplyforged ahead. And the two living men in their gas-masks paid as littleattention as possible to the bodies in the streets, most of them inflimsy night-clothing, struck down in frenzied flight, but they couldnot help seeing too much....
In the end they went back to the artillery-positions and foundsignal-rockets there. Two full cases of them, marvelously unexploded. Alittle later two monocycles purred madly in the beaten-down paths of themonstrous treads. Sergeant Walpole bore very many Bissel batteries,which will deliver six hundred volts even on short-circuit for half anhour at a time. The 'copter man carried some of them, too, and both menwere loaded down.
* * * * *
When dawn came they were hollow-eyed and gaunt and weary. It had startedto rain, too, and both of them were drenched. They could see no morethan a couple of hundred yards in every direction, and they were hungry,and they had seen things no man should have to look upon, in the way ofdestruction. They came upon a wrecked artillery-train just as the worldlightened to a pallid gray. Guns twisted and burst. Caissons, no morethan shattered scraps of metal, because of the explosion of the shellswithin them. And the tread-tracks of the Wabbly led across the mess.Steam still rose, hissing softly, from the bent and twisted guns whichhad burst when they were heated to redness by the power-beam. And therewas a staff gyrocar crumpled against a tree where it had been flung bysome explosion or other. There were neither sound nor wounded men about;only dead ones. The Wabbly had been here.
"Hullo," said the helicopter man in a dreary levity, "there's a portablevision set in this car. Let's call up the general and see how he is?"
Sergeant Walpole spat. Then he held up his hand. He was listening. Faroff in the drumming downpour of the rain there was a rumbling sound. Hehad heard it before. It was partly made up of the noise ofinternal-combustion engines of unthinkable power, and partly ofgrumbling treads forcing a way through reluctant trees. It was a longway off, now, but it was coming nearer.
"The Wabbly," said Sergeant Walpole. "Comin' back. Why? Hell's bells!Why's it comin' back?"
"I don't know," said the 'copter man, "but let's get some rockets fixedup."
The two of them worked almost lackadaisically. They were tired out. Butthey took the tiny Bissel batteries and twisted the attached wiresabout the rocket-heads. They had twenty or thirty of them fixed by thetime the n
oise of the Wabbly was very near. There was the noise offelled trees, pushed down by the Wabbly in its progress. Great,crackling crashes, and then crunching sounds, and above them thethunderous smooth purring rumble of the monster. The 'copter man climbedinto the upside-down staff car. He turned the vision set on and fiddledabsurdly with the controls.
"I'm getting something," he announced suddenly. "The bomber up aloft issending its stuff down a beam, a tight beam to the Wabbly. Listen toit!"
* * * * *
The uncouth, clacking syllables of the enemy tongue came from the visionset. Someone was speaking crisply and precisely somewhere. Blurred,indistinct flashes appeared on the vision set screen.
"They ought to be worried," the 'copter man said wearily. "Even aninfra-red telescope can't pick up a damned thing through clouds likethis. And the Wabbly's in a mess without a bomber to help...."
Sergeant Walpole did not reply. He was exhausted. He sat looking tiredlyoff through the rain in the direction of the approaching noise. Somehowit did not occur to him to run away. He sat quite still, smoking a soggycigarette.
Something beaked and huge appeared behind a monstrous oak-tree. It cameon. The oak-tree crackled, crashed, and went down. It was ground underby the monstrous war-engine that went over it. The Wabbly wasunbelievably impersonal and horrible in its progress. There had been afilling-station for gyrocars close by the place where theartillery-train had been wrecked. One of the eight-foot treads loomedover that station, descended upon it--and the filling-station was nomore. The Wabbly was then not more than a hundred yards from SergeantWalpole, less than a city block. He looked at it in a weary detachment.It was as high as a four-story house, and it was two hundred feet long,and forty feet wide at the treads with the monstrous gun-bulges reachingout an extra ten or fifteen feet on either side above. And it camegrumbling on toward him.