Morale | Page 9

ignoring the batteries playing upon it. It was still again,
while the queer excrescence on its back moved vaguely and shells burst
about it in a very inferno.
Then the treads moved, and with a swift celerity the Wabbly moved
smoothly forward and up the incline toward the cannonading guns. It
went over the top of the incline, and those in the gyrocar saw its
reception. Guns opened on it at point-blank range. Now the Wabbly
itself went into action. In the light of star-shells and explosions they
saw its guns begin to bellow. It went swiftly and malevolently forward,
moving with centipedean smoothness.
It dipped out of sight. The cannonade lessened. Two guns stopped.
Three.... Half a dozen guns were out of action. A dozen guns ceased to
fire.... One last weapon boomed desperately at its maximum rate of
fire....
That stopped. The night became strangely, terribly still. The
major-general put aside his radivision receiver. Though neither the
helicopter pilot nor Sergeant Walpole had noticed it, he had opened
communication the instant the gyrocar came to a stop. Now the
major-general was desperately, terribly white.
"The artillery is wiped out," he observed detachedly. "The Wabbly, it
seems, is going on into the town."
They did not want to listen, those men who waited futilely by the
gyrocar which had witnessed the invulnerability of the Wabbly to all
attack. They did not want to listen at all. But they heard the noises as
the Wabbly crashed across the town, and back and forth.
"Morale effect," said the major-general, through stiff lips. "That's what
it's for. To break down the morale behind the lines. Good God! What
hellish things mere words can mean!"

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's
about all we can do, sir."
"It looks," said the major-general rather desperately, "as if that is all
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
would be worth trying?"
"Thank you," said the major-general grimly. "I'll have concrete ones
made."
Sergeant Walpole grunted suddenly.
"Look here, sir! The Wabbly stops when it uses that dinkus on top. This
guy 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
they got to work that dinkus. They were workin' it just now when the
artillery was slammin' 'em. So next time you want to tackle it, stick a
flock o' bombs around an' attack the bombers too. If they're kept busy
down below, maybe the planes can get the bombers, or otherwise
they'll get 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 seen
the Wabbly and gotten away. I shall use both your suggestions. And I
shall not send those orders by radio--not even tight beam radio. I'll
carry them myself. Good luck!"
A non-commissioned officer of the Eastern Coast Observation Force
and a yet uncommissioned flying cadet waved a cheerful good-by to the
major-general in charge of home defense in three states. Then they
went on into the town.
"Monocycles first," said Sergeant Walpole. "An' a sender."
* * * * *
The 'copter man nodded. The street-lights of the town dimmed and
brightened. The Wabbly had paused only to create havoc, not to

produce utter chaos. It had gone back and forth