We had not been long in the East, and were by no means acclimatised, when the battalion to which our two companies had been sent was ordered to join a mixed force of French soldiers and natives under the command of a distinguished French general, whose name is of no importance to my narrative. This general was operating against a large force of Black Flags, and, as a result of his operations, there was every prospect of a hot engagement, and this was exactly to our taste. Ever since we had joined the battalion we had been looked upon with suspicion by the officers, for the news of the fight between the companies at Three Fountains had travelled to Tonquin, and many believed that it was a foolish thing to allow both companies to soldier together,as there might be at any moment a renewal of the fray. Even our comrades of the two other companies in the battalion at first thought that we might again fall out, but very soon they saw what the officers could not, or would not, see—that No. 4 and ours were as friendly as possible to each other and that there was not the slightest chance of ill-feeling showing itself between us. Thus we were anxious to be in a big battle; we trusted in ourselves, and every man was determined, by showing reckless bravery in the field, to wipe away the disgrace which we knew attached to us, partly for our little fight and partly for the desertions at Singapore.
After a good deal of manœuvring, of which we bore our share, at last it was evident that the eventful day had come. Some chasseurs d'Afrique who were with us had located the Black Flags and their allies, many of whom were regular soldiers of the Chinese army, in a strong position at a place called Noui-Bop. Our native scouts confirmed this, and also reported that there were several white officers amongst them—these we guessed to be English or Prussians, or a mixture of both. We knew that the enemy had good rifles and plenty of ammunition, that they held favourable ground, that there was no chance of outflanking them owing to their superiority in numbers and the nature of the country, and that the frontal attack should be pushed well home if it were to succeed. Well, so much the better, we said to ourselves.
On the morning of the battle we were aroused a little after sunrise. This was because, in the East, it is best for European soldiers to get the work of the day done before the sun becomes too hot. After breakfast my battalion was ordered to leave knapsacks, greatcoats, blankets—everything, indeed, save our arms and the clothing we stood up in—in the quarters which we had occupied during the night, and about fifty men were told off to see that there was no looting of their comrades' belongings while the fight was going on. Thenwe went forward, and took up our position in the centre of the fighting line. On our right there were Annamite tirailleurs, backed up by some French soldiers, I think zouaves; on our left a half-battalion of a French regiment of the line—if I do not mistake, the 143rd. We waited and smoked awhile, some laughed and joked, others puffed at their pipes in silence, the officers were talking and looking always to the rear. At last a dull booming was heard—the guns were beginning behind us—we could see the shells passing over our heads and bursting more than a thousand yards away in our front. Pipes were put up, but still we sat quietly on the ground, listening to the roar of the guns and watching the shells as they searched the line where our enemies lay. A staff officer galloped up to our commandant, and we all got up without waiting for the word of command. After a short colloquy the staff officer galloped back to the general, the orders came clear and abrupt from commandant and captains, and before we could well understand what we were doing No. 4 Company and mine were extended in skirmishing order, with the other two companies of the battalion behind us in support.
We had not advanced very far in this formation when a man, five or six files on my right, flung up his arms and came to the ground with a groan. Just then we began to fire, our firing being kept strictly under control by the officers and sub-officers, who saw no use in allowing us, as soldiers naturally do, to blaze away all our ammunition at too long a range against a well-protected enemy. We went along almost too well; not alone had the officers to control our fire, they had also to work hard to keep us in hand as we went forward in the attack. All was well. A man fell here and another there, but the losses were not enough to speak about until we came to the dangerous zone.
Now let me explain what is meant by the dangerous zone. I did not understand it at the time, but I afterwards learned all about it, and many a time I thankedmy stars when the order came to fix bayonets, for then I knew that I was safely through the ugly place and that most, if not all, of the chances were in my favour.
The Chinese—at least those of them whom we were fighting—never put the rifle to the shoulder as Europeans do when about to fire. Instead, they tuck the rifle-butt into the armpit and try to drop the bullet, as it were, on the attacking party. They cannot well do this until the attack comes within five hundred yards of the defence, nor can they do it when the enemy is within two hundred yards of their line, but they succeed fairly well—that is, well for such clumsy shooters—while the fighting line of the advance is between five hundred and two hundred yards of their position. This was pointed out to us by our officers, and we could easily see for ourselves that what they said was true. Looking back—of course, when the battle was over—we saw only scattered bodies lying for the first three or four hundred yards of our advance, then a comparatively large number in the dangerous zone, after that few, for, as we closed with the bayonet and were practically at point-blank range, the Black Flags wavered and fired at the sky rather than at us.
Well, we had got along fairly until we came to within about five hundred yards of the enemy's trenches. Then the men went down fast, and the officers, sergeants, corporals, and veterans shouted out to us neophytes to run. And we did run; we covered about three hundred yards of heavy ground—we were attacking through rice fields, you must know—as quickly as men ever did before or since. I was pretty blown when I heard the order given to lie down, and down we lay, with bullets flying overhead, until we regained our breath. Above us the shells from our guns were shrieking, in front they were exploding; it gave us all—at least it gave me—a feeling of heartfelt gratitude that the big guns were on our side. After some time we were ordered forward again. We ran abit, fired a round, ran again a little way and fired another cartridge, not at the foe, for as yet we could see no men in our front, but at the long line of smoke that overhung the trenches where the Black Flags and their allies, the Chinese regulars, were waiting for our charge.
In this fashion we managed to get to within about eighty yards of the enemy's trenches, and were then ordered to halt, lie down, and fire as often as possible at the heads and figures that we were now beginning to distinguish where the little puffs of smoke arose. A light breeze was sweeping down the battlefield, and this lifted the blue-white clouds, so that men on both sides could easily make out their enemies. An officer sprang up about twenty yards away from me, waved his sword, and shouted out something which I could not hear, so incessant was the rattle of musketry. I saw the others fixing their bayonets, and I reached round to my left side to pluck out mine. As I did so, I saw the supporting companies of ours running up to join us. Very soon they were at our side, and the four companies, nearly a thousand strong, poured in a hot fire for a minute or two. Then we heard the clear notes of the charge. In a second, commandant, officers, sub-officers, and simple soldiers were all racing for the trenches like madmen, shouting: "Kill, kill!" How I got there I do not know. I was in, anyway, if not amongst the first, certainly not amongst the last, and when there a horrible scene lay before my eyes. On all sides were dead and dying men, some of the dead quiet and calm in appearance, as if only sleeping, with just a little spot of red on the forehead or staining the breast; others torn to pieces by the deadly shells. Some of the wounded were quite passive and resigned; others were crying out, I suppose for mercy. But it was not of them we thought, our business lay with a large body of men, led by a big chief in yellow tunic and wide yellow trousers, who met us with bayonet, sword, and spear and tried to retrieve the fortunes of the day. Our officers—bad as they were,they were brave—rushed straight at this band. We followed like wolf-hounds rushing at wolves. Their hoarse cries and imprecations soon died away as with bloody bayonets we thrust and dug our way through them from front to rear. Once more the Asiatic went down before the European, and in five minutes from the time our foremost entered the trenches we had left not a single Black Flag or Chinese regular standing on his feet. Some of the wounded fired at us as they lay upon the ground; that work, however, was very soon stopped.
Meanwhile the half-battalion of French troops of the line had gallantly carried their part of the entrenchments, but on the right the native troops, the Annamite tirailleurs, were in trouble. Some Frenchmen were with them, but these were too few of themselves to make head against the enemy, who thronged like bees to flowers where they saw a good chance of throwing back the attack. My captain, a good soldier and a bad man, hastily collected about a hundred of his men, and getting us into some sort of order gave us the word—and the example too, indeed—to charge. We fell upon the exposed flank of the barbarians. In a couple of minutes we drove it in upon the main left of the enemy, and very soon the Annamites, taking their courage in both hands, returned to the attack. Some of ours again went round and charged the enemy in the rear, and then the game was up—the battle was over. I wish I need say no more about the fighting, but many would not surrender, and these, of course, were promptly shot or bayoneted where they stood. Some wounded also suffered, but I must say that when a white man, zouave or legionary, put a wounded enemy out of pain it was only after the savage had tried to shoot or stab a passing soldier. Well, if a wounded man will try to kill there is only one thing to do—put it as soon as possible out of his power to do serious damage. I don't blame the savages much for firing or cutting at our fellows; as they never gave quarter to whites, theynaturally believed, I suppose, that whites would give no quarter to them.
Some of the Annamite tirailleurs did, I am afraid, a little unjustifiable killing. Well, it's the way with these people; they think as little of killing a wounded man as a hungry legionary would of killing a providentially sent chicken. We must make allowances; but I am very doubtful about the wisdom of European nations in supplying arms and teaching modern drill to the yellows, the blacks, and the browns. You may make any of these very good imitations of white soldiers, but the leopard cannot change his spots, and the effects of centuries of cruelty cannot be eradicated in a day. The Annamites had one excuse—they were merely doing to the Black Flags what the Black Flags would have done to them and to us had the issue of the fight been different. This is a poor excuse, I admit, but then any excuse is better than none at all. The white officers attached to our native levies did their best to keep their men in hand, but orders are not always minded, even by the very best soldiers, in the heat of action or the flush of victory.
No one must assume that what I have written is a full account of the battle of Noui-Bop. I merely tell what happened under my own eyes. I know nothing whatever of the events that occurred in other parts of the battlefield, nor must it be considered that the troops I have mentioned were the only attacking ones. There were others advancing far away to the right and to the left—we were only the centre of the advance—and when I speak of right and left, I mean right and left of the central attack, not extreme right and left of the firing line.
When we had cleared the Black Flags and their comrades out of the entrenchments, we had a short rest under arms. Very soon, however, we received orders to advance, but cautiously, so as not to get too far in front of the rest. In our rear we could see the artillerymenbringing up their guns to new positions. Occasionally a gun would be unlimbered and a shell or two thrown into a part of the enemy trying to re-form. These shells did not do much damage to the enemy, but they did a great deal of good to us; it was so pleasant to watch the projectiles hissing through the air and to know that our friends the Black Flags were also watching them, but with very different feelings. One of our fellows, a happy-go-lucky Andalusian, called the shellslettres d'avis—warning notices that we were coming and that it would be best for the barbarians to be "not at home." Only twice in this advance had we to make a regular attack, and in each case the men who opposed us did not wait to allow us to get to close quarters; they fled with a hail of bullets about their ears before we got within two hundred yards. The French advance on the extreme right seemed to have more difficulty. I fancy an attempt was made to take them in flank. Anyway, we heard a continuous roll of musketry, with the heavy booming of guns, for about ten or fifteen minutes, and then only a dropping fire, when the attack had evidently been repulsed. On the left no trouble was experienced; our comrades there swept forward, driving the men opposed to them like sheep. About eleven o'clock we were halted. The native levies were sent on in pursuit, as they were better able than European soldiers to follow up a retreating enemy in the heat of the noonday sun. We lay down and rested, happy in the thought that our first fight in Tonquin was over and won. We were not allowed to remain long at our ease after the fight. First two companies, and afterwards the other two, were sent back to get the knapsacks and other impedimenta left behind by the general's order before the advance. About half-past four in the afternoon we got some bread and soup, and a little after five, when the great heat of the day was over, we set forward on our march in the track of the retreating enemy and the pursuing tirailleurs. We kept on until nearly nineo'clock at night, occasionally halting for a rest. In spite of the Annamite levies being in front of us on this march we took all possible precautions against a surprise; we had a section of a company in front, and, in advance of that again, one of its squads. Other squads were out far to the right and to the left. These precautions may seem unnecessary, as our own friends were in front, but, indeed, they were very useful for several reasons. In the first place we saw that, no matter how triumphant our arms might be, there was to be no relaxation of precaution or of discipline; in the second, it was possible that our irregulars might have allowed a large body of the enemy to slip in behind them, and these might ambush us; again, all the men of the main body felt a sense of security, and consequently their nerves were not kept constantly strained—a material advantage in warfare. It is a good maxim to put all the watchfulness on a few and to allow the main body to rest or march in security; so an officer will have better soldiers in action. The best men in the world can't help feeling worried and depressed by constant expectation of an attack. A battle is nothing—very often it is, indeed, a relief—but always waiting and always speculating on an attack, and always wondering from what side it will come, will wear out the strongest nerves. Then come dogged sullenness, loss of interest in one's work, carelessness in duty, and slovenliness in the little things that all soldiers take pride in, and in the end disaster.
That night we lay about fifteen or sixteen kilometres from the place where we had rested the previous night. It was lucky that it was not my turn for guard; I felt so sleepy after the morning fight and the evening march. I had scarcely rolled myself up snugly in my greatcoat and blanket when I fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep, and I could almost swear that I had not had two minutes' rest when the reveille went in the morning. I felt very hungry, and that made me get up quickly fromthe spot of hard ground on which I had been sleeping, to help the others to light the fire for the squad's morning coffee. Nicholas the Russian asked me how I felt.
"Hungry, my comrade, hungry," I replied. And everyone, even the captain, who was passing at the time, laughed as if I had said a good thing. Soldiers are very like schoolboys; the simplest thing said or done by one they know far surpasses anything said, no matter how brilliant, anything done, no matter how renowned, by those they do not know. On active service they are even more easily amused. We often laughed heartily at sayings that, considered calmly by me now, show not the slightest trace of humour.
When the tale of dead and wounded was made up it was seen that our battalion had suffered more than any other corps in the fight, and that of the four companies constituting it mine had the greatest number of losses. This was not bad for me. For some reason or other the captain made me a soldier of the first class, and I was very glad indeed that Nicholas the Russian and Le Grand were also promoted to wear the single red stripe on their right sleeves. We laughed heartily as we thought of our advance in rank and of what we should have got instead of promotion if all were known about the quarrel at Three Fountains. Well, what people don't know won't trouble them.
For some time after this our battalion was always on hard duty. We on some days marched only ten or twelve kilometres; on others, in pursuit of a band of marauders, we covered as much as twenty-five or thirty. Remember, we had to do all this in a country where roads are bad and travelling over fields almost impossible, with heavy packs on our backs, and never less than a hundred rounds of ball cartridge in our pouches. Then no matter how pleasant the greatcoat and the blanket might be at night, they were no light load during the day, and especially between the hours of eleven in theforenoon and four in the afternoon, when we had to go forward if there was the slightest chance of catching up with some or other band of scoundrels. Moreover, when soldiers are on flying duty, they seldom get enough to eat, and what they do get is not the very best or nicest food in the world. One day we came in at the hour of evening soup to a little camp where some zouaves and marine fusiliers were. They were very good to us indeed; the soup they had just prepared for themselves they gave to us, and they took, good fellows that they were, the dry bread and unboiled rice that we had in our haversacks. They were decent men, these French soldiers; they saw that we had been on tramp for some time, and they hesitated not a moment to give us the savoury soup when they saw the hungry longing in our eyes and the convulsive twitch of nostrils, as the grateful odour was perceived. They did more; they gave us some wine and native spirit, and I do not know whether we were more pleased with the gifts or with the free, generous dispositions of the givers. Well, we did as much afterwards for Frenchmen.
This victory at Noui-Bop gave the French control over a large strip of country. Moreover, many new recruits joined the Annamite tirailleurs, for the Asiatic, like all others, wants to be on the winning side. There were promotions, of course, but the only ones I was at all interested in were those that gave the single red chevrons to Nicholas, Le Grand, and myself. We had got to like one another very much, and I believe that the promotion of one gave more pleasure to his comrades than to himself. I may say here that Nicholas and Le Grand afterwards refused further promotion; I, a boy and fool, took it when offered, but I must tell how that came about in another chapter.
CHAPTER XII
Iwillnot weary the reader with an account of our marches to and fro, hunting straggling bands of marauders. This work soon became monotonous, and the recital of our doings would, I am sure, prove monotonous as well. Only one thing impressed itself strongly on my mind at the time, and this was that a man who fell out of the ranks had no chance of getting mercy from the Black Flags. Occasionally, we came across the horribly mutilated body of a French soldier or an Annamite tirailleur, and the sight was sickening. One circumstance, which I must now relate, made our blood boil over and, if we learned to give no quarter, the enemy had no one to blame but themselves.
We arrived at a small village one morning about nine o'clock, having been on the march continuously since five. Here we rested during the heat of the day, and one of the men of my squad and I went to a little shop to buy tobacco. We saw some fruit there—I don't know what kind it was—and my comrade purchased some and gave a share to me. We ate it, and thought no more about the business, but the fruit cost my poor friend his life.
When we were on the march that afternoon, I felt very sick. My comrade—I forgot to mention that he came from Lorraine and was serving with us in order that, when his time was up, he might become a French citizen—was even worse, and both of us had to fall out of the ranks. However, we again caught up with the company, but a second time we were compelled to stay behind, and this time the captain ordered our rifles and ammunition to be taken from us and carried by our comrades.
"The Black Flags," he said, "may get you if they like, but they sha'n't have your arms or ammunition."
I don't blame the officer, he was quite right. The same thing was done with every man who showed signs of weakness or weariness, for we had no ambulance in these hurried pursuits, and the abandoned soldier kept only his bayonet for defence against the human wolves that hung on our flanks and rear. Not much good that, for the cowards used to overpower the poor devils with stones, and, as soon as they were beaten to the ground, the brutes would seize them and execute their horrible tortures on their bodies before death came—a merciful release. Again, however, we struggled back to the company. Nicholas, who was carrying my rifle and ammunition in addition to his own, said: "Cheer up, my good friend; keep on a little longer; we shall soon be in camp." Le Grand, who was in the squad immediately behind mine, got permission to carry my knapsack, another man took my greatcoat, and still another my blanket, but, in spite of the relief thus afforded me, it was with the utmost difficulty that I kept on. The Lorrainer was similarly aided, but he was too unwell, and had for the third and last time to fall out. He never rejoined the company, and we could at the time only speculate upon his fate, but very soon we were to learn the truth.
Helped on by my comrades, I managed to stagger into the little collection of huts where we were to pass the night. Nicholas and Le Grand foraged for me, and got somewhere and somehow a supply of native spirit. Le Grand made me a stiff glass of boiling hot punch, and this I was compelled to drink, though my stomach rebelled at all things. I fell asleep soon after, and woke in the morning, qualmish, indeed, and weak, but completely rid of all the bad effects brought on by indulgence in the fruit. Nicholas insisted on my taking some of the spirit in my morning coffee, and also filled my water bottle with coffee containing about a glass of thefiery stuff, so that I might have medicine on the march. All the others of the squad were sympathetic, and Le Grand, though not of my squad, came over to our hut to inquire about me. Nobody minded this—it was no breach of squad etiquette, as we were both Irishmen—but, of course, it would not do for us to be too much together—we remembered the punishment given to the Alsatians.
Some information received by our officers made us return by the route passed over on the previous day. When we came near the place where the unfortunate Lorrainer had fallen out, a great cloud of birds rose up from the ground and flew, crying hoarsely, away. Very soon we learned the meaning of this. The captain of my company, who was riding in front, suddenly shouted out: "Halt!" and dismounting, gave the reins to his orderly and crossed into a rice field that bordered the way. What he saw there seemed to fill him with disgust and horror. He called out to the other officers to come and see; then the sergeants and the corporals were summoned; finally we private soldiers went by fours to view the sight. What a horrible thing met our gaze! On the ground lay the dead body of the Lorrainer, hacked and mutilated in a fashion that I cannot describe. We were almost sickened by the sight. Often before we had seen mutilated bodies, but never one so savagely disfigured as this, and, moreover, this was the body of one who had been our good comrade only the day before.
"Ah," said the captain to me, "was it not well that you struggled on?"
"My captain," said Nicholas, speaking before I could get out a word, "I will never again give mercy to a Black Flag. As they do to us, let us do to them."
The captain answered nothing to this, but sent us back to our ranks. Before we left the spot we buried the poor Lorrainer.
All that day we spoke of nothing but the horriblesight we had seen in the morning. We were angry; we made resolutions to take a sharp and speedy vengeance for the death of our comrade and the indignity shown to his corpse; we encouraged one another in the desire for revenge; we spoke of what might happen to any one of us who fell faint or wounded on the way; we were gloomy and sullen, not with despair, but with the gloom and sullenness of incensed men. Had we met any enemies that day, not even the commander-in-chief of the army in Tonquin could have prevented us from treating them as they had treated our poor comrade, and, when we did get the chance, we took a bloody vengeance on the barbarians—such a vengeance as even in the Legion was spoken of with bated breath.
Now at this time the battalion had been divided into three parts—two companies held a depot of stores and ammunition, the remaining two were out as small flying columns through the country. It was our turn to go into garrison and rest a while, and two days after burying our unfortunate comrade we marched into the depot. The day after our friends of No. 4 Company came in, and the two companies, Nos. 1 and 2, that we relieved started off on a ten days' trip through the country, seeking the enemy but, as a rule, not finding them. While we were resting in garrison we told the story of the Lorrainer's sad fate to the men of No. 4, and we also made them acquainted with our determination to have satisfaction at all costs for the brutality of those who had tortured to death a poor, sick soldier, to all intents and purposes unarmed, and then disfigured his body in so revolting a manner. I give no details of the mutilation here, but we described it fully to our comrades, and they too were filled with horror and anger. The two companies had got a strange sort of liking for each other, arising out of the fight at Three Fountains, and we could not have met men more willing to back us up in our resolve than they were, and fate sent us other allies almost as good too.
A few days before our turn came to go out on the tiresome tramp after quickly disappearing enemies, two companies of Frenchmen came into our little camp. To our surprise, and, indeed, at first to our disgust, they were the two companies of zephyrs that had come out with us in the transport. We had not lain alongside of them since we parted at Saigon, and then our feelings towards one another were not at all friendly. However, if soldiers quickly fall out, often they become friends again as easily, and so it happened with us. The zephyrs were not a day in camp before they knew all about the Lorrainer and our desire to avenge him, and, since they considered the people of Lorraine as their own flesh and blood, they felt almost as angry as we did. Very soon we all were, if not friends, at least allies for the purpose of obtaining vengeance on the Black Flags, and it was tacitly understood amongst the soldiers of the four companies that, when next we went into action, no quarter was to be given and that the commands, even the entreaties, of our officers to show mercy were to be disregarded. As soldiers we all recognised that it would be impossible to punish so many men, and we saw also that, if we took a terrible vengeance, the officers would do their best to hide the fact, and, though it might become known throughout the army, yet there was no chance of the general giving it official recognition by giving us official punishment.
Now the two companies of zephyrs numbered at the time about 300 men and No. 4 and mine about 350; the rest were in the hospital or the grave.
When No. 1 and No. 2 Companies of my battalion came into camp, the zephyrs and we others marched out. At the end of the first day's march we picked up a couple of companies of Annamite tirailleurs, weak ones they were, and angry, as they had had a couple of fights recently with the Black Flags and got by no means the best of the fighting. Another weak company of native levies joined us the next day, so that altogether our commandant had at his disposal about 650 Europeans and about 300 Asiatic tirailleurs. There were no guns with us, but we did not mind their absence, this time we meant to depend solely on the bayonet.
I have often wondered whether or not our officers knew of our resolution. Certainly the corporals and sergeants did, but thesesous-officierswere too experienced to say anything to us about it; they might as well have tried to turn back Niagara as to change our minds. That they knew, and they knew also that we were dangerous men to cross when united and feeling strongly about anything. Bullets don't always fly towards the enemy. Many a man with a private grudge against sergeant or corporal might be only too glad to salve his conscience, or what stood for his conscience, by saying to himself that he was merely executing justice on behalf of his section or his squad. If the officers knew, they kept silent, but one thing was certain, however it came about: we were the quietest and most subdued force, to all appearance, in the world. The officers and sub-officers were strangely easy with us; we in the ranks dropped all the boisterous gaiety that usually distinguishes soldiers; we were well behaved, respectful, attentive to our duties—in short, for the time being we were model troops.
One evening our scouts brought in word that a fairly large body of the enemy, from two to three thousand strong, lay within two hours' march of our encampment. These were evidently the men who had driven back the Annamite tirailleurs, and our yellow friends were quite well aware of what had happened to their wounded, whom they had been compelled to abandon on the field. "So much the better," whispered we to one another; "the native levies will be our very good brothers this time."
Next morning we were aroused without sound of bugle, and after the morning meal had been disposedof, every man received a ration of wine. Some fellows drank this at once, most of us, however, put it into our water bottles for use during the day. Soon we were on the march, due precautions being taken against a flank attack or a surprise, and about eight o'clock or half-past we arrived within sight of the enemy. They were not disposed to stir on our account, and we were quite satisfied. We had begun to despise them—I mean when we met them in fair fight. That is the way with all Europeans; a white man gets to know his yellow brother only to despise him.
Towards nine o'clock the regular advance began. No. 4 Company of legionaries attacked on the right, my company being in support, with half-a-section, supported by some Annamite tirailleurs, flung out to guard against a flank attack on the part of the enemy; on the left a company of zephyrs were extended, the second company of Frenchmen doing the same duty on the left as mine did on the right; in reserve were the rest of the Annamite tirailleurs.
Our men advanced in the usual way until they came within charging distance of the enemy's entrenchment. At this time a slight diversion was caused on the left by a feeble attempt to outflank and throw into confusion the white soldiers and native levies advancing in support. This attempt failed, and, just as we knew that it had failed, a similar one was made on us. We quickly put an end to it, pouring in a heavy fire at short range, and when these attacks were repulsed a considerable body of the Black Flags left the field. But the firing line in front had still to reckon with the soldiers manning the trenches, and these certainly fought with admirable spirit and determination. Better for them had they run away!
When the time came, in the commandant's opinion, for the charge which was to end the fight, one section of my company was ordered forward to join No. 4, the other section, the one to the right, with about 100Annamite tirailleurs, to overlap the enemy in that direction and, if possible, to take them in the rear.
As we ran along we heard first the heavy, continuous firing that always precedes the bayonet charge, and then the hoarse roar of "Kill, kill!" that told us that our comrades were going up with the bayonet.
We redoubled our exertions, slaughtered to a man a small body of Black Flags that tried to block the way, and very soon we were clear past the end of the entrenchments and were moving inwards—that is, to the left—to catch the savages in the rear. We just succeeded. The enemy, driven out of the entrenchments by the frontal attack, were pouring out in hundreds along their line of retreat We rushed at them with cries of exultation and revenge, and as we drove back the fugitives on one side a section of zephyrs and some natives drove them back on the other. We had now completely hemmed them in. Roughly speaking, on the south were a company and a half of legionaries and a company and a half of zephyrs, with a few Annamites who had come up from the reserves; on the north, half a company of legionaries, half a company of zephyrs, and about a hundred and fifty native tirailleurs; between these two forces about six or seven hundred Black Flags and their allies. It was now a game of battledore and shuttlecock: our comrades on the south drove the savages on to our bayonets; we sent them yelling back again. Once more our fellows attacked and pushed them towards us; we, who had re-formed the ranks, again closed and used the bayonet mercilessly until they tried to break away. This went on for some time, but every charge brought the opposed lines of white soldiers closer, and thus diminished the little space in which the Black Flags could move. At last we were all a dense crowd, in the centre a mob of savages so closely packed together that they had scarcely room to thrust or cut, around this a circle of maddened men stabbing furiously and crying out:
"Vengeance for our comrade; kill, kill!" By scores the central mob went down. At last not more than fifty or sixty were left, and these were on their knees or thrown prone upon the ground crying out for quarter. We opened our ranks and let all the Annamites through; in three minutes not a Black Flag was left alive.
In plain words, this was a massacre—of that there can be no doubt. It is only fair, however, to put the responsibility on the proper shoulders. Therefore I say that it was meditated upon and carried out by the simple soldiers; the officers and sub-officers merely fought well while there was any show of resistance. It would be unjust to the men to say that the officers led us, for we were far too anxious to get to close quarters to require leading, but when the resistance had ceased the captains and lieutenants vehemently ordered, and, when orders were disregarded, begged of us to stop. The sergeants and the corporals asked us to refrain from killing, but they were not over-earnest about it—they understood us better than the leaders of higher rank—and they knew quite well that our desire of vengeance could be appeased only by blood. The corporal of my squad said to us afterwards:
"No doubt it was wrong, but perhaps it was necessary."
But, it will be asked, were there no leaders in the affair? Yes; there were leaders—indeed, the very best leaders that could be found for such a deed. You must understand that we had in our ranks men of education and refinement; gentlemen, let me say, who had gone astray. These were of many nations and of various crimes. I have already mentioned Nicholas the Russian. I could also tell you something of a Prussian ex-lieutenant of hussars; of an English infantry officer, son of a high official in the Colonies, who had sent in his papers after a five minutes' interview with his colonel; of the Austrianbeau sabreurwho loved women better than their honour and preferred cards to his own; of many others who came to the Legion as a means of committing social suicide, and who—unhappy rascals that they were—were yet good, honest, fighting men, and not bad comrades if one only put a guard upon his tongue. Two of them could not live in the same squad, and the authorities knew it. Every one of them was a second corporal, so to speak, and really, to take the case of the man I knew best, Nicholas was far more respected amongst us than our authorised superior, and the corporal was as well aware of the fact as we. Well, these were the leaders. When the officers and sub-officers, who thought only of victory and perhaps promotion, would have had us show mercy when the fight was over, these men, born and trained leaders, encouraged us to slay and spare not, and showed us an example of fierce brutality which we, angry on account of the murder and mutilation of our comrade, only too faithfully followed. We should certainly have done some unfair killing in any case, but we others should not, I believe, have been guilty of such excesses were it not for the ruined gentlemen who for once saw a chance of giving vent to their long pent-up feelings of anger with all the world—especially their world—that had for ever cast them out Long ago there was an Italian proverb: "Inglese Italianato e diavolo incarnato," and I believe it to have contained a good deal of truth at the time. Nowadays the "devil incarnate" is the gentleman by birth and breeding who has been rejected by his natural society because he has been so unlucky as to be found out.
Well, the fight was over, and we, having cleaned our bayonets, rested quietly on the field. Nobody in the ranks said a word; the sergeants stood apart from us and from each other; a little knot of officers gathered together and spoke in whispers. The commandant rode up and spoke in a low tone to them, then hewent away, and the sections were ordered to fall into ranks. The zephyrs and we were marched a little way from the place, and were ordered to prepare a small encampment; the Annamite tirailleurs were sent out scouting while this was being done; there was not the slightest thought in any man's mind of pursuing the flying enemy. Indeed, pursuit would have been useless; those who had got away had too long a start, and we were very tired and in no mood for further fighting that day. About two hundred legionaries and some zephyrs were after a short time sent out to bury the dead. I should mention that our wounded had been first carried to the place where we were forming the little camp. I was glad that I was not with the burial party; those who formed it had no stomach for their evening soup. Towards nightfall all things necessary had been done—the wounded cared for, the dead buried four deep in a long trench, this for the Black Flags, and two shorter trenches, one for the legionaries and the zephyrs, the other for the Annamite tirailleurs. The camp was very quiet; the men not on guard or outlying picket lay about smoking, but with very little conversation; the officers of all detachments had assembled in the centre, and were talking earnestly about the events of the day.
Nothing was ever said to us about this ugly affair. It was over and done with; there was no use in talking about it In any case, how could eight or nine hundred men—that is, including the Annamite tirailleurs—be punished? Cæsar could decimate his legions—the day is gone by for such punishment; moreover, even if special soldiers were selected for trial by court-martial their comrades would surely have revenge on the officers, the sergeants, and the corporals. It is dangerous—take my word for it, very dangerous—to go too far with any regiment in any army. With us it would be even worse, for no one, not even thegeneral in chief command, would be safe from our bullets if only a chance arose. I believe that we were at once the worst used and the most feared corps on the face of the earth.
Not long afterwards No. 4 Company and mine rejoined our comrades of Nos. 1 and 2. We parted from the zephyrs in a very friendly way; they told us that they liked us very much, and we paid them a similar compliment. Often afterwards we heard from other legionaries that a certain corps of zephyrs had shown them singular friendliness. In a short time the story went round about the affair, and people began to understand why this battalion of zephyrs was so well able to get on with the soldiers of the Legion. Our fellows were good comrades to them, just as they were good comrades to ours. If the zephyr had money, the legionary had a share; if the legionary had money, the zephyr did not find himself without wine and tobacco and the other things that money procures. Frenchmen of other corps did not mind. After all, it was none of their business; besides, the zephyr as well as the legionary had a rather ugly camp reputation; both were too ready to fight with men of other regiments on the slightest provocation.
In a short time we received some recruits, and the four companies of the battalion were brought up to a fairly respectable strength. Every company now numbered more than two hundred men, and at long last promotion came in the ranks. The sergeant of my section had died of wounds soon after the little affair I have just mentioned. My corporal was promoted in his stead. It will be remembered that the corporal of my squad had given the first intimation to the captain that we were about to volunteer for active service; the captain now took the opportunity of rewarding him for bringing the joyful news. There were only two soldiers of the first class in the squad—Nicholas the Russian and I. Nicholas, as the older and better soldier, was offeredthe rank of corporal. He refused it, as was natural. It was all right to become a soldier of the first class, because that rank saved him from many disagreeable duties, but the idea of one who had commanded a company accepting the control of a squad and receiving curses and abuse from the company officers when a soldier got into trouble was not to be entertained for a moment. The second chevron was then offered to me. I accepted it on the spot, and by none was I more heartily congratulated than by Nicholas. He went further than mere compliments and good wishes: he asked me if I wanted money to pay for some drink and tobacco for the men. Luckily, I had a few francs saved out of my scanty pay, and so I was able to decline his generous offer. At the same time I assured him that, if I wanted the loan of money from any man, I would rather be in his debt than in another's. And I paid him the further compliment—its truth pleased him—that I was, indeed, corporal on parade but that he was corporal in camp, and that I should find it hard to prove superior rank to his in a fight I knew—everybody knew—that Nicholas had more influence than any corporal or, for that matter, than either of the sergeants. He was glad that I openly admitted it to him, and a more loyal soldier never helped a sub-officer when help was really needed than he. I, probably the youngest corporal in the army—not yet seventeen—had a more orderly and well-disciplined squad than any other corporal in the service. Partly, I believe, this was due to my own desire to give fair play to all the men, but chiefly, I know, to the thorough-going way in which Nicholas supported me in everything. Every man under me felt that I would do my best to screen him if he broke the regulations, to save him as much as possible if he were brought before the captain or the commandant by sergeant or sergeant-major. Often I deliberately shut my eyes to things that were wrong in themselves but dear to the heart of the soldier, and one day I went so far aswarmly to defend before the captain a man charged by the sergeant-major with a serious military offence, though everybody knew that the man's sole claim to be helped by me was that he was a member of my squad. Nicholas told me that I had acted imprudently. "The sergeant-major," he said, "will be your enemy; but there is one consolation, the squad is more than pleased. The Austrian, however," he went on, "had no right to get himself into such trouble and, as it were, compel you to save him from the consequences of his own guilt. We will punish him; get permission to go outside the camp this evening, and leave him to us." I understood. I got permission to be absent for four hours—from seven in the evening until eleven. When I came back the Austrian was lying on the floor of the hut with a blanket thrown over him, dead.
"It was an accident, my corporal," said Nicholas.
"Yes; an accident," said a Belgian; "we did not mean to break his neck."
I examined the body. It was quite true that he was dead; already his jaw had fallen, and a coldness and rigidity had seized upon his limbs. I thought for a minute. The lights were out, only a feeble ray of moonlight shone through the door.
"Is there anything to be done?" said I to Nicholas.
"Yes," he replied; "if we are all true comrades."
The others swore that they would be loyal to the death; as for me, there was no need of asseveration: if I tried to save the men of the squad, it was sink or swim for me with all.
"Let us bring him out," said Nicholas, "and put him outside the camp. Then let nobody know anything of him save that he lay down at the usual hour. You, corporal, must say that he was present when you came in; I will give the rest of the evidence."
We had some difficulty in getting out the dead body, but when Nicholas had interviewed a sentry we managed the rest easily enough. We left it about two hundredpaces from the camp, fully dressed, and with a bayonet in the right hand. In the morning the nearest sentry called out for the sergeant of the guard. He on coming up recognised the body as that of a French soldier. It was carried to the guard-hut, and there lay awaiting identification. I reported the absence of the Austrian when the sergeant came round, and soon afterwards I was ordered to go to the guard-hut. There I identified the body. All the squad and myself were examined about the matter. Nicholas was the only one who knew anything, and his story was that, lying awake at night, he had heard the Austrian getting up, and asked him was he unwell. The Austrian had said: "A little, not much; don't disturb anyone about me." He had then gone out, and Nicholas had fallen asleep. Everyone believed that he had left the camp to visit some female friend, and that he had been suddenly fallen upon by natives and beaten to death. Such a little thing was quickly forgotten, and we of the squad took particular pains to avoid even mentioning his name.
After this event the squad would do anything for Nicholas and for me. That was why it was so good a squad. Why, the captain looked surprised when a man of mine was brought up before him. Well, if I were good to them, they were good to me, and I had the pleasant consciousness that no man would try to shoot me in the back when the bayonets were fixed for the charge.
I kept aloof from the other corporals, and was rather distant with the men—that is, with all except Nicholas. To him I never hesitated to confide my thoughts, and many a time he gave me advice well worth the having. He had read much and had travelled and mixed constantly with men, and all the worldly wisdom he had gained was at my disposal; indeed, I often felt secretly pleased that the Prince, as we sometimes called him in his absence, was so frank and free with me. He had, I knew, been exiled by the Tsar, or at any rate compelled by circumstances to leave his country. I knew of some things he had done—and they were guilty deeds—but he was so clever, so superior to us others in manner and bearing, so generous when he had money, and, best of all virtues in a soldier's eyes, so loyal to his comrades, that a far more experienced man than I might have easily fallen under his influence.
I shall have more to say of the Russian in the next chapter, and soon after that he will disappear for ever from these pages. I shall not anticipate, however, but let the tale unfold itself in its proper order, making but one more observation here—namely, that when the account of the last fight which I have mentioned went through the Legion, and I believe I may say through all the army, it, coupled with the story of the fight at Three Fountains, gave No. 4 Company and mine a most unenviable reputation. In a way this was good; nobody felt inclined to quarrel with us, and a most unusual calm and quietness prevailed in every camp where we lay. At the same time the generals gave us our fill of fighting—more than our share, indeed—but these things will come in their own place afterwards. And so I close this chapter—the chapter of the slaughter.
CHAPTER XIII
Thenext important event of my life in Tonquin was the first battle of Lang-Son. This was, to put it bluntly, a defeat for our troops and a really creditable victory for our enemies. Of course, reasons are given by the beaten side for every mishap. "Rank bad luck," for instance, unknown and unforeseen difficulties of country, unsuspected numerical superiority of the victors—anything and everything except a fair and straight admission of an honest beating in open warfare. Now these are all nonsense. Why should a general talk of "rank bad luck"? If he ascribes a defeat to this, may not people fairly ascribe his victories to good luck, and that alone? As for saying that the lie of the land was not known, that is merely a confession of ignorance, and worse—of carelessness in using his mounted men and his scouts. That an enemy may succeed in massing a great number of men at a given point without the knowledge or even suspicion of his opponent is quite conceivable; is it not what every general who knows his business tries to do? Read the history of any campaign and you will find that all the decisive actions were won by a swift and secret concentration of troops against an important place held by comparatively weak numbers. If I were a general, I should try to divide my enemy's forces and concentrate my own. Ah, when a man is beaten let him say so honestly; let him point out, if he wishes, how his opponent out-manœuvred him; and let him, in the name of all the gods, say nothing about luck, and, above all, be discreetly silent about anything that might hint at his own carelessness or the worthlessness of his scouts.
Now, let me try to show how our defeat came about. But first let me again say that the enemy beat us fairly and squarely in the engagement; that we retreated is good enough proof of that. Well, in the first place, the generals and the other officers firmly believed that the Black Flags and their allies would never be able to stand up against either our rifle fire or our charge. They had good reason, I admit, for assuming this. Unfortunately, they never reckoned on having to fight regular troops, officered and disciplined by Europeans, and it was these regular troops, well armed, well drilled, well led, and showing an amount of courage and staying power which one does not usually attribute to Asiatics, that drove us off the field. There were Black Flags and other barbarians in the fight, but these we could have easily first stalled off with the rifle and afterwards cut to pieces with the bayonet: it was really the men in uniforms who won the fight.
In the second place, we soldiers had learned to depend implicitly on our commanders. They had led us so well that we had as much confidence in their foresight and military skill as they had in our courage and steadfastness. The day before we were driven from Lang-Son no man even dreamt that our generals could be ignorant of anything occurring within a radius of a hundred miles; that a numerous and well-appointed army was within striking distance without their knowledge seemed, or would seem, if such a thing entered our minds, the fancy of a fool or the vain imagining of a coward. When the fight was going on we were surprised at the gallant manner in which our foes stood up against us. After a time, when more than once we had hurled them back with the bayonet, we recognised that we were dealing with the most formidable force that we had yet encountered. They gave us bullet for bullet, thrust for thrust. They were good men, and when the bayonets crossed they fought quietly and earnestly, and died without a murmur, almost without a groan. Theycould never hold out long against us in a charge—they were too light—and, another point to be noted, though the Asiatic will face death by the hands of the executioner with far more stoicism than the European, in the press of the battle the white man's enthusiasm is infinitely better than the yellow man's contempt of death. But in the firing they more than held their own, they were more numerous, their ammunition was evidently plentiful, and, to tell the plain truth, in spite of our bayonet charges they fairly shot us off the field.
To put the matter in a nutshell: we were defeated because our generals did not know the kind and the number of troops opposed to them. Let me add, our overweening confidence in our own prowess gave way to something very different as we saw ourselves slowly but surely forced back, and noted that the bayonet was not used to gain ground for a fresh advance but merely to drive back for a moment a too closely pressing enemy. At the same time it is but justice to admit that the defence was a good one. We retired, undoubtedly, but we showed no confusion beyond that certain amount that always shows on a battlefield, nay, even at a peaceful review.
I must now go on to my own part in the unlucky fight. After the first repulse my battalion had been constantly engaged in covering the rear of the retreat. On our right flank some French line regiment was busy in the same way. All the other troops, as far as I could judge—but a corporal sees very little of a battle outside the part borne in it by his own company—had been withdrawn, and were hard at work getting ready a new line of defence, while we who were just in front of the enemy kept them back in order to gain time. At last we could scarcely hold them at bay, and the order was given that our battalion should retire by companies. Nos. 2 and 4 quickly left the firing line; No. 1 was the next to leave, and my company poured in as hot a fire as we could until the order was given to run at top speedto the rear. I, as luck had it, had just loaded. I fired deliberately at a white man I saw about three hundred yards away cheering on the enemy, and saw him fall. I then turned and ran as fast as I could after my comrades. These were now some distance in advance, but as I went along I saw a good path leading slightly away from the point where the company would naturally fall into ranks again for another volley or two at the enemy and to allow the men time to regain their breath. This path, though slightly diverging from my route, at any rate would bring me away from the enemy, and I could, when at a safe distance from the Chinese, cut across country to rejoin my squad. I was running through rice-fields, and I knew that I could vastly increase my speed on the path. My one object at the time was to get away; I had no desire to fall, wounded or unwounded, into my pursuers' hands. I therefore turned and fled along the path, which ran by the side of a small stream.
As I ran, I noticed that the ground on the other side of the path gradually rose and at length formed a fairly high mound. This, however, I did not mind; every step took me further from the savages. I gradually slackened speed as my breath gave out, and instinctively flung away the cartridge, that I had fired at the white officer and put my hand into the pouch at my right side for a fresh one. Just as my thumb and forefinger closed on a cartridge, a sudden apparition met my gaze. I was rounding a corner, and there, not twenty yards away, was a Chinaman, evidently as astonished as I at the rencontre. I have never been so frightened in my life as at this totally unexpected meeting with an enemy in such a place. I had no power to take the cartridge from the pouch and fit it into the rifle. I was thunderstruck; I felt an awful horror of impending death. The Chinaman—he seemed a giant in my eyes—hastily tucked the butt of his gun into his right armpit and fired. I ducked instinctively, and at onceknew that he had missed. The awkward way he fired and the sudden movement on my part had saved my life. In a second I had a cartridge in the rifle and the rifle at my shoulder; the Chinaman dropped his weapon and fled. Now the pathway was quite straight and level for a distance of about two hundred yards. There was no means of making a hasty escape to one side or the other; on the right ran the stream, on the left stood up a mound about eight or nine feet high. I saw, therefore, that I could let my man go a good distance without firing at him. This I desired, for my rifle kicked a little. When he was about a hundred and fifty yards away I aimed carefully at the back of his knee, pulled the trigger, and probably took him fairly in the small of the back. He flung up his arms, reeled, and fell face downwards in the water, and lay there quite still. I was satisfied. I felt a natural and yet an unreasonable anger with the man who had sought to take my life—natural, because every man hates those who attack him; unreasonable, because why should not he try to do to me as I should have tried to do to him were the positions changed? But soon my anger gave place to caution. I reloaded and clambered up the bank, determined to leave the path, as I could not know that other Chinese might not stop my way with better success than the first. After crossing through some low shrubs and brushwood the sound of volleys quickly repeated led me to the company. I fell into my proper place. Nobody said anything except the captain—a new man not with us a month—who sarcastically asked if I had seen a ghost.
We gradually fell back towards the new line of defence. The regulars attacking wasted no time, and pushed us rather rapidly along. At last a staff officer came with a message to our captain, and we hurriedly poured a heavy fire into the advancing enemy, then we all turned and ran towards the point whither the captain led us. We got a good start and covered theground quickly; at a little line of small trees and underwood lay safety. As we straggled into this we were ordered to face about and lie down. We saw the Chinese regulars coming along with hoarse cries of joy, not extended in skirmishing order, but in dense masses of men, who pressed and struggled to the front.
A bugle call rang out, and suddenly a horrible rattle of musketry began. The enemy were fairly caught. Every rifle of ours was blazing away at about two hundred yards' range at the easy target they presented. In a moment, as it seemed to me, the attack withered away. Where a minute before were triumphant soldiers rushing in pursuit of a fleeing foe, one saw now nothing but prostrate bodies on the ground. Many, no doubt, flung themselves down as the first shots rang out, but the vast majority must have been swept into eternity by our fire. But this was not all. Our guns began, and even those who were a thousand yards away felt staggered in their advance. For ten minutes we heard nothing but the rattle of musketry, the booming of the guns, the noise of the shells as they hurtled through the air, and then the explosions a thousand yards away. The cries and shrieking of the wounded were unheard and unheeded. If the enemy had driven us from the field and could fairly claim a victory, we in the end taught them such a lesson surely as defeated never before taught their conquerors. That last firing more than equalised losses, and, better still, gave us the bitter-sweet of vengeance, and restored the old feeling of self-confidence that had been so rudely shaken on that day.
This was really the close of the battle. In various parts firing still went on, but an attack in force by either side was manifestly impossible. The Chinese regulars had been too much cut up towards the close of the fighting; as for us, there was only one course to be taken—retreat towards our base in order to prevent being outflanked. The new line of defence had servedits purpose. It was not strong enough, nor were we numerous enough, to withstand an attack in force on the morrow, especially as our opponents were strong enough to hold us in front while flanking columns got round even to our rear. After an hour's rest, which we badly wanted, the order was given to retire, and for seven hours we struggled on, angry, weary and hungry. At last we formed a little camp; some rice and brandy were served out—we had no soup or coffee—and so, in bad humour with ourselves, the enemy, and our rations, we lay down on the ground to forget in sleep discomfort and defeat.
Luckily, the enemy did not press their advantage as they should. We were soon reinforced, and when we had recovered from the fatigue of the fight and the retreat, we again tried conclusions with them with better success. The story of the second battle of Lang-Son will be told in due course. I must now narrate an incident that occurred between the battles, while we were still retreating and somewhat pressed by the foe.
First, it must be understood that my battalion formed part of the rear-guard. There were French soldiers of several corps and native levies as well, and I may say here that the Frenchmen showed as much steady courage in retiring before overwhelming masses of the enemy as they usually show of gallantry andélanin a charge. I can never again believe that the Frenchman is good only when advancing; given capable officers, he is a perfect soldier at all points. This retreat proved the fact. We were half starved; there was the continual fear of being wounded and left to the merciless Black Flags; for all that, while the legionaries were furious and occasionally downcast, though doing their duty like brave men, the men of the line, the zouaves, the marine fusiliers, the chasseurs—and I believe the rear-guard had men of all these—were, after the first feeling of anger and disappointment, cheerful, makinglight of difficulties, almost gaily prophesying a speedy revenge.
Now one evening my battalion halted after a weary, heart-breaking tramp during the day. We had had little food, and that unsuitable, for some time. In my squad was a man whose country I have good reasons for not mentioning; suffice it to say that he came from a land lying on the eastern frontier of France. I shall call him Jean, though that was not his name. All the day he was saying: "Quelle misère, quelle misère!" until we were sick of the words, and I told him, rather roughly I am sorry to say, to keep his troubles to himself. When we came into camp great precautions were adopted to prevent surprise, and I may detail these so that everything may be quite plain. Moreover, they will show how careful our officers were.
Now, as I have often mentioned, a battalion has four companies. Normally a company has two hundred and fifty men, but at this time the strongest company of my battalion numbered only about a hundred and sixty. In the camp the battalion lay in square, so that each company had one side of the square to protect in case of attack, and had to furnish all the guards and outlying pickets on that side. My company lay on the side nearest the enemy, or, as I should rather say, nearest the quarter whence an attack would most probably come.
When the company was halted and faced outwards, a corporal and his squad—say seventeen all told—were detached to furnish the inner sentries. Of these eight men were posted at intervals about fifty paces from the main body; the corporal and the eight reliefs lay half-way between them and the company. Thus every soldier was on sentry for two hours at a time, and then had two hours to rest as well as he could on the bare ground. This squad constituted the guard.
Now two squads with their respective corporals, having an officer or sergeant in chief command, formedthe outlying pickets of the company or, if you wish, of one side of the square encampment. Half of each squad acted as sentries about seventy-five yards from the inner line of watching men; between the two lines of sentries the reliefs of the outlying pickets rested. The sentries of the guard stood up, the sentries of the outlying pickets lay down; no glint of buckle or bayonet was allowed to show. It was next to impossible to surprise the camp, even if the darkness should prevent the outer line of sentinels from seeing the approach of an enemy, by placing their ears to the ground they could easily hear the tread of any considerable body of troops, and it would require a very considerable body of men to surprise effectively—that is, to annihilate—about six hundred good soldiers, who knew how useless it was to ask for quarter from such enemies. I hope I have made this matter clear: military men, I know, will understand, and I hope that others may be able to comprehend it too.
My squad was for outlying picket that night, and as it contained only fifteen men I had to borrow one from the corporal of the next squad for duty. This happened to be the one in which Le Grand was, and I asked for him. My request was granted, and Le Grand was attached for twelve hours to my little party. The sub-lieutenant of the company was in charge of the picket, and having led us out to our places he ordered the other corporal and me to post the first sentries. I posted eight men, amongst them Jean, who was still suffering from melancholy, and returned to the spot where the reliefs were to lie. Nicholas, Le Grand, and I lay near one another on the ground and began a whispered conversation in English, a language that the Russian spoke with great purity and ease. In the course of this I mentioned to Le Grand the strange way in which Jean had been speaking all the day, and Nicholas volunteered to tell us the poor fellow's strange story. I can only give the merest outline of it. I wishI could tell it just as I heard it that night, but Nicholas was a born storyteller; indeed, he was clever in all things.
I must try to give it in my own words.
Jean had been a light cavalryman in the army of his own country, which bordered on France. He was, in his own words, amauvais sujet, always getting into trouble. He could not resist the charms of female society, and many a dreary hour he passed in prison for staying away from his duties because he could not tear himself away from some newly-found angel. Things in the end came to such a pass that his life in barracks became unbearable, as his comrades had now turned against him. A cavalryman's horse must be attended to, and if the rider be absent his comrades have to do extra work. Now extra work is merely a cause of extra swearing when the proper man for the duty is ill or absent on leave, or even absent without permission once in a while, but when a man is continually staying out and then getting sent to cells the affair is altogether different. In no army will soldiers stand that. It is quite enough, men say, for each to groom and feed his own charger, but it is very unfair that a soldier, his own work done, should be ordered to do the work of another who is away enjoying himself or paying for his pleasure in the guard-room. So Jean had been rather roughly disciplined by his fellow-soldiers, and this punishment did him so much more good than any inflicted by the officers that for nearly two months he was a fairly steady soldier. Seeing this, the other fellows became again friendly with him, never, indeed, having borne malice, and only desiring that he should do his share of the work.
Well, one night a big gamble was carried on in the barrack-room. Some recruits had come in for training, and two or three of these were fairly well off. The old soldiers thought that card-playing would tend to a more equal distribution of the money, and preparations were accordingly made for a wakeful night. A few bottles of brandy and wine were smuggled in, and when all the lights were out blankets were judiciously placed over the windows, the lower edge of the door, and even the keyhole, so that by no accident might the game be interrupted. Then some candles were lit, and after the men had been cordially invited to drink, some game or other was begun, and, as was natural, the more equable distribution of the money began. Now Jean was a very good card-player, and the little pile of silver and coppers at his corner of the table steadily increased, and when the little party broke up at reveille, his head was heavy with sleep and his pockets with money. He got through the duties of the day as well as he could, and when evening came dressed to go out, just merely, as he said to Nicholas afterwards, for a walk and a glass of wine. Of course, he took all his money with him: that was an obvious precaution.
Soon after passing through the gate he met a lady whose acquaintance he had made some time before. She was pretty and clever, knew how to dress, and was by no means averse to the society of a handsome light cavalryman whose pockets were well lined and whose reputation for generosity in his dealings with the fair sex was so well established as our friend's.
The pair had ever so much to say to each other, and Jean admitted that he had a little money, sent to him by a rich aunt, he said, who would some day die and leave him a nice little property—oh, merely a few thousand shillings a year. (I use the word shillings as it gives no clue to Jean's country.) "How good she was!" said the pretty girl. "And I," she went on; "oh, you would never guess what I am doing now." Jean guessed, and guessed, and guessed again. It was all no use; he had to pay for a pair of gloves before his curiosity would be gratified. Then she told him that a certain rich bachelor, a Government official, hadgone for a cure to some watering-place and had left her in sole charge of his domicile until his return.
"Oh," said Jean, "I guessed the rich man, and yet I had to pay for the gloves."
"True, my friend, very true indeed," she answered; "but you did not guess the visit to the baths, and is not that, my handsome fellow, the most important thing?"
There was no denying this. Surely it must rejoice youth and health to find age and pain so careful, so thoughtful, for self and others!
Jean was generous; he could well afford to be, as he had won a large sum, for a soldier; the girl, to give her her due, was not too exacting. An idyllic life was lived by both in the beautifully furnished house of Dives Senex for almost a week. Jean went out only at dark, and then merely for a walk around the unfrequented parts of the town for an hour. As he wore the old man's clothes, which fitted fairly well, there was little danger of his being recognised. At last the dreaded morning came when Jean should leave the house. He knew that sharp punishment awaited him at the barracks, but he had made up his mind to make a bold bid for liberty. This time he feared the anger of his comrades more than a court-martial, for he had been guilty of the unpardonable sin of winning money and spending it without the aid of the other troopers, while all the work of barrack-room and stable was left to them. He knew very well that the consequences would be ugly, and he determined to desert from his corps, more from fear of the squad court-martial than of the regular one presided over by an officer. Of course, his desertion was nothing—that is common in all armies—but Jean's plan of deserting was unique. I at least have never heard of a similar case.