FOOTNOTES:

THE HEROIC POILUS, CHAMPAGNE.April17, 1917.

Nothing withstood the attack of the 8th Zouaves; we reached our objective at the given time. We are elated over our success.[33]

The noise of the battle is dying out. The enemy surrenders to us in little groups. I find myself, cane in hand, standing before a dugout, from which crawl a dozen or so Saxons with their captain——

Pointing at ourpoilus, covered with mud and magnificent, he said to me:

"What are these men—lions?"

"No, they arepoilus of France!"

THE CHIVALROUS POILUS, CHAMPAGNE.April, 1917.

We are at the retaken positions on Mont-sans-nom. Colonel Lagarde occupies a sumptuous shelter in which he has extended the hospitality of inviting me to dinner. A bouquet of flowers, sent directly to me from Châlons, has been placed on the table in a shell-made vase.

The Zouaves, who saunter in and out of the colonel's P.C., are visibly astonished——

Convoy of ammunition in Champagne.

They are convinced that it is General Pétain himself who has sent the flowers to their colonel, in recognition of their success the day before——

One after the other the roses disappear, the last ones vanishing petal by petal——

The same day and the next, the 8th Zouaves repelled the enemy counter-attack with rose petals in their button-holes!

THE JESTING POILUS, CHAMPAGNE.May, 1917.

General J. B. Dumas is passing his troops in review to-day. Our stalwartpoilushave fought admirably, and, before leaving for the rear,au repos, must be honored——

General Dumas, who is popular with his men, stops in front of a good-looking boy, sturdy, vigorous and superbly healthy!

"You remember me?"

Thepoilustares astonished and does not reply.

"Voyons, you know, all the same, who I am?——"

". . . . ! ! !"

"Allons, speak——"

The poilu said to himself, "If I don't tell him that I remember him, he'll murder me——"

"Yes, I remember you, general, I remember you perfectly——"

". . . . ? ? ?"

"You are the former station master at Bécon-les-Bruyères!"

A FETICH! MONTE CARLO.February, 1917.

"I have a favor to ask of you, captain, pardon me——"

"Which, mademoiselle, I will be very pleased to grant you——"

"Here is a little kerchief—I give it to you and ask that you wear it around your wrist, the next time you go into battle."

"I promise it."

"It will bring you good luck and I am certain you will do great things that day!"

CHAMPAGNE.April, 1917.

"Your little kerchief has been an excellent fetich, mademoiselle. I wore it on my wrist in the attack of April 17. It is a priceless star of gold, on mycroix de guerre, and I hope you will be pleased! I offer it to you—because, it ismyshining star!"

THE RETURN OF JEAN PAUL COCHIN,GRAND BLESSÉ, PARIS.May, 1917.

It was at the beginning of July, 1915, when the army of the Crown Prince unloosed its big thrust in the Argonne.

The battle was raging to the north of St. Menehoulde and this sector became suddenly the most active on the whole front.

Jean Paul Cochin, soldier of the second class in the — Regiment of Infantry was sorely wounded July 7, toward four o'clock in the afternoon near Vienne-le-Château. A shell burst near the parapet of the trench in which he was stationed, shattering his two arms.

He was thrown violently to the ground and lost consciousness——

Toward dusk he half-opened his eyes, but could not move; he suffered very much—his lips dry and he had a tremendous thirst.

Then he felt himself being moved—he recalled vaguely having heard the murmur of a voice—some jolting, sharp pains which hurt.

A stop! He heard guttural voices, a bright light passed several times before his eyes which he could not open——

Another shifting—a rapid journey and many bumps and joltings——

When he again regained consciousness he found himself in a bed and looked to the right and to the left to find out where he was. He was in a large room and perceived numerous other beds like his own.

He could twist his head, but his body was fixed, immobile, and his two arms hurt him terribly.

He saw approaching the bed a man very big andstrong, with gray hair, gowned in white, accompanied by two assistants and a nurse.

The doctor gave several orders in German. Little did it matter to Jean being a prisoner, but his suffering was horrible. The doctor began unwinding the bandages to examine the wounds. Soon he was not conscious of what was going on. They placed a white napkin over his face and he inhaled the strong odor of ether. For some moments it seemed to him cannon were booming in the distance and a loud whistling in his ears, then nothing more——

Some hours later he came to himself for the second time and found that his bed was bound and wrapped like a mummy. He was so feeble—so feeble. How long his sleep had been he did not know.

A nurse on seeing him open his eyes brought him tea and he murmured "thanks"; then she cautioned him in very bad French to lie quiet and not to move.

The horrible nightmare and the fever lasted through the night and because he steeled himself he would not cry——

In the morning the doctor came back with the nurses and demanded in French that he answer some questions: he must give his name and the unit to which he belonged. Then all got black again before his eyes and the poor devil fainted——

Thanks to his strong constitution, he took a turn for the better, not, however, without passing several bad days, and the fever left him.

How long was all this going to last? He did not know——

So he began to feel better and stronger and rejoiced when the doctor, in the course of his visits, said to him:

"You're going to pull through, and I'm glad of it——"

He was still extremely feeble, had to be nourished with a spoon, but he did not forget that he was very well taken care of in this hospital.

Turning his head, he perceived with surprise that his neighbor in the next bed was his comrade in the trenches, Paul Dubois——

"Is that you, Patachon?"

"Yes, mypauv' vieux."

"Why, you here, too—what's the matter?——"

"A foot gone—leg lots shorter—but I complain no longer, Cobusse; you don't suffer much any more—I thought I heard the death rattle those first days——"

"No, I suffer no more——"

"You know how we got here?"

They began reconstructing the scene completely, the bombardment; and they recalled the premonitory whistling of the shell that had wounded them both.

They chatted for a long time and there was a consolation for having been taken prisoner in finding themselves together.

Some weeks later Cochin and his comrade, being improved in health and strength, were evacuated to a hospital in the interior. They made a long journey on the railroad and perceived more and more how unfortunate it was to lose one or more limbs.

On arriving there, Cochin had so lost the notions of equilibrium that he fell several times to the ground to the great despair of Dubois, who thereafter never slackened his hold on him.

Cobusse and Patachon came rapidly to be very close friends; these two wrecks of the war could not be separated and found in each other a reciprocal sustenance.

Patachon washed, dressed and fed Cobusse and rolled his cigarettes. He tried to explain to his friend that one can go through life without arms and used such unusual arguments that it caused his comrade to smile at times.

And the latter said amusingly:

"In the meantime, I have an itching—scratch then, my head—not there!—yes, there, how good that feels, Patachon——"

Their morale remained excellent and they were confident of victory.

During their captivity, one rainy day, they were sitting side by side on a bunk and began to talk of their families.

Cochin told how his wife was waiting for him inPanam[34]with their little Hélène, who was almost five. He could not stop talking of the littlegaminewho was "his own picture."

"You cannot realize, Patachon, how lively and intelligent she is. Ah! what wouldn't I give to clasp her in my arms."

To change the conversation Patachon said to him:

"Some time you'll be eager to scratch yourself, Cobusse—Don't stand on ceremony, you know I'm here forthat, my old friend—we must aid each other in life."

The long hours of captivity passed sordidly enough, broken by the arrival of letters from France and packages of food.

When they talked with the Germans they were completely reassured on the outcome of the war: both of them were very skeptical when they heard the bells ringing and when they read the bulletins announcing another German victory. When their guardians looked gloomy Patachon never failed to smile at Cobusee.

"Our overseer wears a long face these great days, he must again have swallowed another pill!"

The two, and their comrades, shattered wrecks like themselves, always passed the sombre days in the little German village where they were taken. They had to suffer numerous privations. They missed the hospital at the front and the German doctor who was "rather a good sort."

They had to take insults from these heartless people and many times they were able to read a secret joy in their eyes on seeing them crippled.

"Ough! the dirty beasts, Cobusse, did you see how that woman there sneered at us——"

Many months went by and Cochin and Dubois never left each other. They spoke less of the war, but retainedthe hope of returning to France and of this they often talked.

"Listen, Patachon, here we are, you and I,grands blessés, and we should have been in Paris long ago—what are they trying to do—keeping us all this time?"

"Yes, Cobusse, it commences to be very long——"

One day, however, it was announced their turn had come and they could leave. At the thought of seeing France again they were thrilled. They had done their duty and could return home proud——

Quickly they were ready and began the long journey across Germany. Their train was full ofgrands blessés, miserable beings which the grave did not want and which it was glad to be free of. As Patachon said, "They all look like a lot of wire and rubber——" They were blind, sick, maimed and mad!

There was enough misery in that train, but all were haughty and dignified!

"What a sad air," said Cochin, "this boche country has——"

Rolling along thus during one entire day, the night was broken by very long stops that seemed endless. And these long hours of waiting made them very tired and low spirited; as soon as they started again everyone began to laugh and talk.

As they drew near to the Swiss frontier scarcely could they conceal the joy they felt on leaving this country that was killing them.

At dawn the train arrived at a station all lit up, where, in spite of the early hour, there were great throngs. It is Schaffhouse!

Along the platform Swiss officers and soldiers went to and fro, excited as if they saw Frenchmen for the first time——

"We are in Switzerland, Patachon——"

"Are you sure?"

They looked out the car window and scarcely had time to see, on the other track, a trainload of wounded Germans going the other way.

"You see, they are maimed like us——"

The soldiers in the two trains regarded each other closely without a word.

Hardly had the train of the Germangrands blessésstarted to leave the station than a military band began to play the "Marseillaise"!

Yes, the "Marseillaise"—They raised their heads and there wasn't a one who did not hold himself in an effort not to cry——

Then the station became crowded with persons who wished to see thegrands blessés. They distribute flowers, cigarettes, little tri-colored flags, small cakes, chocolate, colored postal cards—The station gets more and more crowded and the excitement grows.

"Ah! we are not in that boche country any more, Patachon—I begin to breathe easier already——"

But they're all more or less amazed at this great bustle to which they are ill-accustomed, and for the first time they see human beings who have sincere pity for their misery.

At Zurich, at Olten and at Berne, they see the samethings and more so as they approach France. Here, the manifestations are clamorous and very lively. Above all, the people speak French and shout: "Bravo les braves!"

However, they are not yet completely happy: they are not home! But they stretch and become more attentive to the surrounding country. Through the window they admire the Bernoise Alps blanketed with snow.

At Fribourg, a woman holds out a bouquet of flowers to Cochin, while her daughter presents him at the same time with a cup of steaming bouillon. They cannot understand why the crowd shouts so much. They cry also: "Vive la France!"

"Take it," say both the mother and daughter.

Patachon leans out the window.

"He cannot take them," he says, "because his arms are gone——"

The two step back as if to shrink away from this immense misfortune, but Patachon calls to them:

"Pass me the flowers and the cup—it is I who am his mother at present. Thank you, madame; thank you,ma petite—Allons, drink that, old brother. Is it too hot?"

The mother and child begin to cry, "Oh, the poor, the poorblessé."

Cochin stiffens as if proud of his wound——

They passed by Lausanne, and Geneva, and at the latter place said adieux to Switzerland. It was nightwhen they crossed the border and a half hour later entered the station at Bellegrade—France!

At last they were home. The people were different. Nurses went up and down the platform with a cheery word for everyone. In short, each one wanted to tell his story, but a smile from these women almost made them forget it.

The following day they got out at the Lyon station where a beautiful ceremony had been planned to receive them. The mayor addressed them in front of the station and at his side were the general commanding the district and the city officials. Little girls, quaintly dressed in their first communicant costumes, distributed flowers, and Patachon fixed a pretty rosebud in his comrade's tunic.

The mayor compared them to old flags riddled with bullets, at which one gazed with pride and emotion. Everyone was grave, because they were conscious it was true.

The music kept on playing—the throng went wild—was this not a beautiful dream after that horrible nightmare? The blind themselves smiled, as if they saw—They breathed the air of France!

They went back into the train, this time to complete the last step of their journey: to-morrow they will be in Paris.

They are tired and they find the time passes slowly, so great is their impatience.

Cochin telegraphs his wife to be at the station with the little one——

They cannot sleep and they speak of their captivity. They are content within themselves as long as they do not give way to discouragement. They fully apprehend now the return—what will become of them?

They await the coming of day with disquietude. Night seems without an end. At last, the sun routs the darkness and they recognize the outskirts of Paris——

At seven o'clock in the morning their train enters the station——

"The war is finished for us, Cobusse, and we are lucky to get back——"

Cochin does not reply. He looks out the window and sees the station crowded with people—they are all talking at once——

"Patachon, I see my wife and Hélène—Wave at them!"

"Where are they?"

They have seen him and begin waving their hands, at the same time making signs for him to come down on the platform. Patachon shouts out the window:

"We're coming!"

Cochin, very pale, leaves the coach, assisted by two nurses. He is some steps in front of his wife, who is holding Hélène. He walks ahead rapidly as if to take her in his arms, and then understands. He stops—and falls back, sobbing on the shoulder of his friend——

"Come—come, mypauv' vieux, don't cry—what's this—you who never cry!"

"Patachon—I can—I can never clasp her in my arms——"

PARIS.May27, 1917.

"What a sad air you have—an infinite sadness——"

"I believe no longer in GOD, nor the love of a woman, nor in the friendship of a friend——"

"You believe then, no longer in anything?——"

"Yes, in glory—posthumous——"

AT SEA, ABOARD THE CHICAGO.June5, 1917.

I leave for the United States!

The vigorous part of my life is terminated. I am on the high seas and my eyes do not tire as I contemplate this magnificent sight. Physical and moral suffering are forgotten——

I awaken each day a little farther away, and I forget that nightmare.

Is it possible I am here—I—What repose!

NEW YORK.June15, 1917.

To-night I have seen land again and felt a shudder, the first after a very long time.

On seeing the Statue of Liberty, my eyes are full of tears, and I cry:

"Wonderful United States, quick—into the struggle! Now it's you—Strike, strike—strikehard!"

FINIS

FOOTNOTES:[29]Inactive, resting after having been in battle.—Tr.[30]In fine condition.—Tr.[31]Popular appelation for gendarmes.—Tr.[32]Elite Division consisting of Zouaves, Tirailleurs and Foreign Legion.—Tr.[33]This regiment took over 800 prisoners in the attack, also many large guns.—Tr.[34]Panam—Paris.—Tr.

[29]Inactive, resting after having been in battle.—Tr.

[30]In fine condition.—Tr.

[31]Popular appelation for gendarmes.—Tr.

[32]Elite Division consisting of Zouaves, Tirailleurs and Foreign Legion.—Tr.

[33]This regiment took over 800 prisoners in the attack, also many large guns.—Tr.

[34]Panam—Paris.—Tr.

Transcriber's NotesThe table of contents was generated and does not appear in the book.Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.Hyphen removed: battle[-]field (p. 117), sand[-]bags (p. 52).P. 22: a woman, young woman -> a woman, a young woman.P. 79: in the threshhold -> in the threshold.P. 104: Pernot -> Pernod.P. 107: our catrridge boxes -> our cartridge boxes.P. 125: bifucation of the two roads -> bifurcation of the two roads.P. 126: two men whe -> two men who.P. 128: Shell rain around us -> Shells rain around us.P. 134: German shell -> German shells.P. 147: When shell burst -> When shells burst.Caption of illustration following p. 160: Donaumont -> Douaumont.P. 180: Morocco Divison -> Morocco Division.P. 190: Cobusee and Patachon -> Cobusse and Patachon.P. 192: there were great throngs -> there was great throngs.

The table of contents was generated and does not appear in the book.

Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.

Hyphen removed: battle[-]field (p. 117), sand[-]bags (p. 52).

P. 22: a woman, young woman -> a woman, a young woman.

P. 79: in the threshhold -> in the threshold.

P. 104: Pernot -> Pernod.

P. 107: our catrridge boxes -> our cartridge boxes.

P. 125: bifucation of the two roads -> bifurcation of the two roads.

P. 126: two men whe -> two men who.

P. 128: Shell rain around us -> Shells rain around us.

P. 134: German shell -> German shells.

P. 147: When shell burst -> When shells burst.

Caption of illustration following p. 160: Donaumont -> Douaumont.

P. 180: Morocco Divison -> Morocco Division.

P. 190: Cobusee and Patachon -> Cobusse and Patachon.

P. 192: there were great throngs -> there was great throngs.

Back to Index Next