1

The valley was dark and silent. Across on the northern side of the river I saw a red light flash on twice, then nothing.

Seconds later, I heard from deep within the city the grinding of the winch-drums, and the city began to inch forward. The sound echoed around the valley.

I was lying with about thirty other men in the tangled undergrowth that spread across the face of the hill. I had been drafted temporarily to work with the Militia during this most critical of all the city’s crossings. The third attack was anticipated at any moment, and it had been judged that once the city could reach the northern bank of the river it would, by nature of the surrounding terrain, be able to defend itself sufficiently long for the tracks to be extended at least as far as the highest point of the pass through the hills to the north. Once there, it was thought that it could again defend itself for the next phase of track-laying.

Somewhere in the valley we knew that there were about a hundred and fifty tooks, all armed with rifles. They presented a formidable enemy. The city had only twelve rifles taken from the tooks, and the ammunition for them had been spent during the second attack. Our only realistic weapons were the crossbows — at short range, deadly — and an awareness of the value of intelligence work. It was this latter which had enabled us to prepare the reserve counter-attack of which I was a part.

A few hours earlier, as darkness fell, we had taken up this position overlooking the valley. The main force of defence was three ranks of crossbowmen deployed around the city itself. As the city started out across the bridge they would retreat, until they formed a defensive position around the tracks. The tooks would concentrate their fire on these men, and at that moment we could spring our ambush.

With fortune on our side, the counter-attack would not be necessary. Though intelligence work had established that another attack was likely, the bridge-building work had been completed faster than anticipated, and it was hoped that the city would be safely across to the other side under cover of darkness before the tooks realized.

But in the still of the valley, the sound of the winches was unmistakable.

The forward edge of the city had just reached the bridge itself when the first shots were heard. I placed a bolt in the bow, and held my hand over the safety-catch.

It was a cloudy night, and visibility was poor. I had seen the flashes from the rifles, and estimated that the tooks were ranged in a rough semi-circle, approximately one hundred yards from our men. I could not tell if any of their bullets had hit, but so far there were no answering shots.

More rifles fired, and we could tell the tooks were closing in. The city had half its bulk on the bridge… and still crept forward.

Down below, a distant shout: “Lights!”

Instantly, a battery of eight arc-lamps situated on the rear of the city came on, directed over the heads of the crossbowmen and into the surrounding terrain. The tooks were there, not taking any kind of cover.

The first rank of crossbowmen loosed their bolts, hunched down, and started to reload. The second rank shot, hunched down, and reloaded. The third rank shot, reloaded.

Taken by surprise the tooks had suffered several casualties, but now they threw themselves down against the ground and fired at all they could see of the defenders: the black silhouettes against the arc-lamps.

“Lights off!”

Darkness fell at once, and the crossbowmen by the city dispersed. A few seconds later the lights came on again, and the crossbowmen fired from their new positions.

Once again the tooks were taken off aim, and more casualties were inflicted. The lights went off again, and in the sudden darkness the crossbowmen returned to their former position. The manoeuvre was repeated.

There was a shout from below, and as the arc-lamps came on we saw that the tooks were charging. The city was now on the bridge.

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion and a gush of flame against the side of the city. An instant later a second explosion occurred on the bridge itself, and flames spread across the dry timber of the rail-way.

“Reserve force, ready!” I stood up, and waited for the order. I was no longer frightened, and the tension of the waiting hours had disappeared. “Advance!”

The arc-lamps on the city were still burning, and we could see the tooks clearly. Most of them were engaged in a hand-to-hand battle with the main defence, but several more were crouched on the ground, taking careful aim at the superstructure of the city. Two of the arc-lamps were hit, and they went out.

The flames on the bridge and against the side of the city were spreading.

I saw a took near the bank of the river, swinging his arm back in preparation to throw a metal cylinder. I was no more than twenty yards from him. I aimed, released the bolt… and hit the man in his chest. The incendiary bomb fell a few yards away from him, and exploded in a burst of heat and flame.

Our counter-attack had, as anticipated, taken the enemy by surprise. We managed to hit three more of the men… but suddenly they broke off and ran towards the east, disappearing into the shadows of the valley.

There was considerable confusion for a minute or two. The city was on fire, and beneath it the bridge was burning fiercely in two separate places. One concentration of flame was directly beneath the city, but the other was a few yards behind it. It was obviously urgent to deal with the fires, but no one was certain that all the tooks had retreated.

The city continued to winch forward, but where the bridge burned large sections of timber were falling away into the river.

Order was restored quickly. A Militia officer shouted orders, and the men formed into two groups. One group renewed the defensive position around the tracks; I joined the second group sent out on to the bridge to fight the fire.

After the second attack — in which incendiaries had been used for the first time — fire-points had been fitted to the outside of the city. The nearest of these had been damaged in one of the explosions, and water was gushing away from it uselessly. We found a second one, and unravelled the short length of hose.

The intensity of the track-fire was too great, and it was almost hopeless to try to fight it. Although the city had now passed over the worst of the damage there were still three of the main runner-wheels to roll over the burning timber… and as we fought in the dense smoke and billowing flames I saw the rail beginning to twist under the combined forces of heat and weight.

There was a roar, and another section of timber fell away. The smoke was too thick. Choking, we had to back out from under the city.

The fire in the superstructure was still blazing, but a fire-crew inside the city was attempting to deal with it. The winches turned… the city crept slowly towards the comparative safety of the northern bank.