Sick parade naturally promised to take longer than usual. Captain Ribet had made searching enquiries the day before and consulted the sick lists. He had told of about twenty weaklings to report themselves to the chief Medical Officer. I had not been surprised to catch sight of De Valpic's name on the list which I had been told to hand over.
Surgeon-major Bouchut, a stout, apoplectic-looking man, arrived in a state of perspiration, and swearing hard began to sound the men's hearts and lungs. He was not very ferocious to-day. He must have had instructions to strike out the good-for-nothings. Whenever it was a case of enteritis, rheumatism, or bronchitis he jerked out at me:
"Oh, he'd better stay at the depôt!"
Then, turning to the man, he would growl:
"You'll have to stay behind my lad!"
A well-set-up fellow out of my section came and announced:
"I'm an old trooper, I am!"
"Well, what about it?"
"And so I shan't march."
"Oh, you think so, do you?"
"I never have marched."
"A good opportunity to learn!"
"It's on account of a slight rupture...."
"Let's have a look!"
Bouchut felt his groin.
"You wear a truss, do you?"
"Yes, sir-r!"
"In that case you can walk round the world!"
"But...."
"Off with you! Brr! Next man now!"
The next one on the list was De Valpic. I considered his thin body with all the ribs showing.
"What's the matter with you?" Bouchut asked.
"Nothing much, sir, but the captain told me to...."
Bouchut bent down over him:
"Take a deep breath...."
Just then a hubbub arose, an orderly was slating a man who had just upset the bottle containing the tincture of iodine.
"Can't you keep quiet, confound you!"
But Bouchut's attention was again distracted by the arrival of a surgeon-lieutenant. They gossiped for a moment and then returning at last to De Valpic, he said:
"Then you don't cough at all?"
"Hardly at all, sir."
"Do you want to go to the front?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Very well, then. Must not be overdone," he dictated to me.
The examination came to an end. When I went out I came across the man with the rupture again. He was cursing and swearing! "Well, if that wasn't a shame! To make an old dragoon, with an illness like that, walk! They were a set of bullies, that's what they were!..." But he'd be even with them yet! He knew a thing or two. The first time they were under fire, he would stagger, and let himself fall. But first, he was going to write to Sembat, who was a pal of his.
"Switch off Loriot!" somebody warned him. "Here come the N.C.O.'s!"
I wondered whether I should pack him off to the defaulters' room.... Perhaps it would raise my prestige, but I let the opportunity slip by, and finally decided to have heard nothing.
Guillaumin came up to me. He was bringing the letters from the barracks and good-naturedly drew my attention to the fact that I was the one who ought to have gone to fetch them. He agreed in addition to be responsible for their distribution. He was rummaging in his pockets.
"There's a post card for you."
A post card really! I was not expecting anything. A few lines from my father and a note from Laquarriére, in answer to one I had written him, was all I had received since the beginning.
I looked at the post mark; illegible. I did notrecognise the handwriting, it was feminine. I turned to the signature: "Jeannine!"
The little Landry girl!
What does she think of it all? I wondered, amused. She, who would not hear of war! I remembered our trifling on that railway platform.... What a short time ago it was ... and yet it seemed so long. She had written very closely. I noted her graceful attempt to write me something beyond the usual commonplace remarks. She gave a short description of their railway journey. On hearing the great news, they had gone to Geneva (a reassuring atmosphere), and on to Paris the day after. Since then they had settled down again as well as might be, and without a maid, at St. Mandé. But what about me? I was far more interesting! In barracks, no doubt? Or perhaps already on my way to the front? They were counting on my being able to let ... friends, know how I was getting on. The card ended with these words, "We think of you a great deal."
I re-read it; I was touched. I would certainly answer this delightful girl very soon! I should have liked to do so at once; but a stupid feeling of bashfulness forbade my seeming in too much of a hurry.
We assembled for the inspection. The men came on to parade, one by one, staggering under their packs, which were continually slipping and having to be hoisted up again, with a jerk of their shoulders. All at once they realised that the inspection was not a mere matter of form. Beginning with the first platoon the captain stopped in front of each man.
Guillaumin whispered to me:
"His eyes are skinned right enough."
Corporal Bouguet continued to look at me sourly. Donnadieu, sandy-haired and stolid, when I questioned him, shook his head, and did not seem to want to be answerable for anything either.
We had half-an-hour's wait, which was distinctly unnerving. Our turn came at last.
Bouguet was examined first and passed as impeccable. Thank Heaven! And his neighbour, Siméon, too. I was beginning to breathe more freely. The captain escorted by the company quartermaster-sergeant stopped in front of Paquette, a villager with a blank expression.
"Take off your valise. That's right! Now open it. Let's see your housewife ... and the inside...."
The man cautiously emptied the contents, consisting of three old buttons and some rusty pins, into his hand.
"No needles? Or thread?"
"We haven't been given any, sir."
"What's this? They were given out yesterday. What's the meaning of this, sergeant?"
"That's right, sir!" I said.
The captain raised his voice.
"Hands up! in the 11th and 12th those who've got no needles or thread."
Three or four arms, then seven, eight, ten, were raised.
"Extremely important! Tears are not rare occurrences in the field, nor are burst buttons. And if you've nothing to mend them with! A pair of trousers which won't keep up, means a man out of action!"
He went on to the next man, Judsi!
"Got your body belt?"
Judsi shook his head grotesquely.
"Don't wear one, sir!"
"Did you draw one?"
"Yes, sir!"
"What's become of it?"
Judsi made a movement expressive of ignorance.
"Someone probably nabbed it, sir! Seein' as I don't wear one."
The captain turned to me.
"So, you don't see to all this?"
I protested that I had told him....
"Told him! Told him!... You see the result! When you have ten or fifteen men down with dysentery...!"
He went on to the next. It was done on purpose. Here, a shoulder strap had come unsewn, there one or two buttons missing, this képi had no chin-strap, that bayonet was rusty, a certain rifle was not properly cleaned. Where was the lantern belonging to No. 11 half-section? And the camp gear! It was quite clear that it had been badly distributed. The captain dropped straight on to the weak spot and emphasised it coldly.
When the non-commissioned officers were collected afterwards, he gave vent to his feelings.
"It's lucky we're not going off this evening! That would be a nice state of affairs! No. 3 platoon is a positive disgrace! I am speaking of section No. 2! Sergeant Dreher, at one o'clock I shall inspect your half-sections and I can assure you that if anything goes wrong this time!" He twirled his long moustache. I was frightfully annoyed. What irritated me above everything was the ironical satisfaction shown by several of my fellow N.C.O.'s; I tried to excuse myself.
"It was my day on duty, sir!"
But Ravelli interrupted:
"Oh, it was you, was it? I wondered who it could be.... You never turned up."
I was filled with a wild desire to fall upon my corporals, but Bouguet was waiting for me, bristling with rage. Ready to bite his head off I turned upon Donnadieu, who put on a vexed, sheepish expression.
I swore at the men roundly, in the approved N.C.O. style. Did they think they could snap their fingers at me? Getting me cursed like that! So they weren't even capable of appearing in service marching order? So jolly difficult, wasn't it?
"Such humbug from a blooming plug!" Judsi muttered.
I told them about the supplementary inspection, and moderated my tone in view of their obvious bad temper.
"Come along, let's look alive. Everyone must do his bit!"
Cook-house door had gone. Lamalou exclaimed:
"Arf a mo'. Carn't work on an empty belly."
A long hour elapsed before any one deigned to start work again and even then they did not put their backs into it. I was horrified at the number of dirty mess-tins and water-bottles, of uncleaned boots, and above all, of the fittings missing; sets of "pull throughs" had to be complete in groups of four! Stores orders must be got and signed by the company sergeant-major, and the things drawn ... and the time was being frittered away in dawdling and gossiping. I think the knaves did it on purpose. My remarks all fell on deaf ears, whatever tone I adopted—I triedthem all! I felt a sort of jeering hostility rising against me which infuriated me, though I did not let them see it.
Bouillon luckily lent a hand. Having once had the rank of corporal, he still retained a certain hold over his comrades.
He laid himself out and was here, there, and everywhere, lavishing rebukes and fisticuffs.
When Captain Ribet reappeared at the time arranged everything went well. The inspection was even more minute than it had been in the morning, but this time he found only a few infinitesimal details to criticise.
When he left he said to me:
"Aren't you more satisfied?"
I did not answer, but met his remark with the regulation coldness.
CHAPTER XVII
SUSPICIONS OF EMOTION
Thepresentation of the Colours was announced for three o'clock. We would willingly have dispensed with climbing up to the parade-ground! Goodness knows I was not looking forward to the ceremony.
Our company was the last to arrive. A major wearing an eye-glass, urged his horse past us. He was an insolent, bloated-looking creature, with a sallow complexion, and greeted our company officer with a bitter-sweet remark which the latter, to my delight, acknowledged in the same tone.
The colonel appeared. He was quite white, although still young, a cavalier of imperious bearing. With his manly face and his moustache he reminded one strongly of "Dumény" inLa Flambée.
He rode slowly up and down among our ranks. Chests were thrown out at his approach. He made a few remarks in a firm but kindly tone. Then the order was given to the two battalions to close up into a semi-circle.
Controlling his mount, the colonel looked round on us proudly, and began to harangue us.
I listened. I had come in a sarcastic frame of mind. What could he say that would not be stale or commonplace?
Indeed I had foreseen this issue of ready-made phrases on the decisive importance of the struggle upon which we were embarking; it was a question of safeguarding our country and our lives against a nation which was becoming a menace to the human race.... But the inflections of a manly voice conferred a certain grandeur on the hackneyed theme.
"A fine actor," I repeated to myself. "More and more like Dumény!"
I tried, like this, to avoid being carried away, then I began to give in. I admitted that a certain beauty resulted from the perfect harmony between his words and their object. I read in the men's face the revelation of a virtue, until now unknown even to them. For the first time I had the intuition that these peasants and working-men andbourgeois, for the most part doltish, narrow-minded beings, would, if certain chords in them were touched, be capable of great things....
And what about me? Oh! I should be an on-looker as usual! That would be quite enough for me.
The colonel concluded:
"Now, my friends, you are about to march past your Colours. They are new, they have not been under fire, they do not bear the names of glorious victories in their folds like their seniors of the 1st.... Well, it is for us to dower them."
A thrill ran through the ranks, then the whole mass stood like stone. The bugles sounded the vehement, tragic call which always shakes me physically.
We marched rapidly in column of fours up towards the bugles which called and guided us with their heroic flourish. I suddenly wished I could shed my egoism and vibrate in unison with the two thousand men, who, in this hour, were being consecrated my brothers inarms. I flogged my imagination. The Colours. The word echoed within me, awakening a procession of sacred memories and emotions. I could see myself as a child at the window with my mother leaning over me, clapping my hands to salute the standard of the "8th Cuirassiers" in front of which rode my father, very upright on his big black horse. At that time I used to revel in the many tales of heroes who let themselves be killed rather than abandon the staff, or expended a prodigious amount of cunning in order to save the remnants of it.
Were not these Colours the emblem of the country we had risen to defend, the symbol of everything that could raise our soldiers' hearts? My bosom swelled at these thoughts. We were drawing nearer to it; I fixed ardent eyes on it....
It was certainly beautiful, half unfurled in the breeze, with its rich fresh tints and fringe of gold. A sub-lieutenant, looking very pale and proud, was holding it firmly against his hip.
The din of the bugles increased, filling our hearts.... We passed by....
And yet no! No! My ... irreverence rebelled. To become excited over this tinsel, these few yards of painted stuff! Had I hoped for this thing? I had not yet got so far!
Our last evening—strict confinement to barracks.
I had retired to my hay-loft. I leant my elbows on the window-sill overlooking the garden.
I was surprised to hear the murmur of voices below me. I leant out and saw a couple there.
When I recognised little Frémont and his wife, sitting side by side on a stone bench, my first feelingwas one of vague impatience. The separation of husband and wife! A touching subject for the pen!
How had they managed to slip in there? A chance word which reached my ears explained it. The principal's wife had had pity on them and had given them the key. The little wife had contrived that; she had not been able to bear the idea of being deprived of her Marcel on the last evening.
I considered her sardonically. "Let's have a look at this woman in love!"
I have already said what my opinion of her was. I never thought I should change it. This evening, however, though her features were already merging with the growing twilight, it seemed to me that her face shone with a rarer radiance. Was it her love that transfigured this child?
She had taken off her hat and was leaning her brown head on her husband's shoulder, while he held her close, his arm round her waist. Their foreheads and eyes and lips caressed each other. They were talking below their breath. No other sound but the rustle of the wind disturbed the deep silence.
I was indiscreet enough to play the eavesdropper.
She was the one who spoke the most, in little, plaintive, tender phrases, like the twittering of birds. I could only follow the general trend of her remarks, but it was enough for me to see that she was not bemoaning herself lest she should rob him of his courage. She only dwelt in retrospect on the happy weeks they had spent together. Many injunctions followed. They would be sure to write to each other every day, and think of each other all the while.
I found it easier to catch his grave, reassuring replies. The tone of his voice baffled me. Here wasFrémont, the retiring little man, with shy manners, who liked to keep in the background and always asked advice, appearing in the rôle of comforter! His protecting fondness enfolded his beloved.
I continued to lean out above them, my elbows on the stone window-sill, my hands joined. My malevolence gradually subsided.
That this was merely the repetition of a scene which had been enacted all through the ages, no longer seemed to me a sufficient reason to smile at it. On the contrary, I was stirred by the thought of the eternal chain of loves and partings.
Night had fallen. The trees in the orchard seemed so many phantoms. Not a light to be seen. Some birds flew silently across the night air. I could hardly distinguish the two lovers now, but it seemed to me that their lips had sought and found each other. There was silence for a short space. Then a sentence was breathed softly. A voice trembled into tears. I gathered from certain allusions that she was afraid, though she did not say so, that he might never see their little child.
Sitting there motionless, I dedicated my pitying sympathy to them and thought how few men there were among all the thousands I had seen marching past this afternoon, who were not leaving some woman at home, wife or lover, and some child of their flesh.... Poor souls! How terrible their grief must be! I ought to have congratulated myself on the fact that I was leaving nothing behind me. Why did I now so poignantly regret my solitude; did I envy the farewells uttered amid tears and the sealing of vows?
There was a noise behind me: Guillaumin. I left the window, an instinctive delicacy of feeling prevented me from drawing his attention to the presence of the couple in the garden.
We went down into the yard again. My companion was in tremendous form. He held forth on a hundred and one subjects, and I agreed with him absent-mindedly. My thoughts were wandering capriciously. I thought of my brother Victor for whose safe return someone was praying.... A strange insistent idea kept recurring to my mind, of writing to the girl who had thought of me yesterday.
CHAPTER XVIII
A RETURN OF EGOISM
Thelast distribution of stores had just taken place—biscuits, haversack rations, and iron rations. Cartridges too, fifteen packets a head; a pretty tough load, in addition to everything else. A lot of men were grousing about where they should put them.
The worst of it was that there was some surplus. The company commander who was passing said:
"You're not going to leave those behind, mind!"
I took two extra packets, and Guillaumin four. He remarked:
"This is the most necessary part of your equipment, you chaps, don't you make any mistake about that!"
He had few imitators. Playoust, who was prowling round, jeered.
"For the Bosches? But my dear fellow you won't see any for six weeks!"
It was not at all encouraging. Lamalou happened to turn up, and as an old stager, at once exclaimed:
"Shove one along, and let's 'ave a look!"
He had formerly been in one of the flying columns in Morocco where the replenishment of ammunition was a difficulty. Guillaumin threw him a packet.
"Catch!"
The other caught it in mid air, then another, andanother, five, ten, fifteen. That doubled his load and he went on shouting.
"Another! And another! Just to make 'em dance!"
His example was decisive. Five minutes later there was nothing left of the heap.
"The creature knows how to make himself useful!" I thought. It was a pity he drank so much! He had just got into new and serious trouble. A scandal in a pub, as usual—the officer on rounds had reported him—he had been imprisoned—and the company sergeant-major was innocently congratulating himself upon having got rid of him!
But the captain got him out, and made a point of having a heart-to-heart talk with him. What could he have threatened him with? With leaving him at the depôt I think. The other had to promise to be good, he reappeared triumphant.
"A regular brick, the Captain."
Ravelli could not get over it.
At two o'clock I began to get ready; we were to start at four. I was fully equipped; nothing was missing. My pockets were stuffed with the endless little necessaries for which there was no room elsewhere: tooth-brush, medicine-case, string, pocket-knife, lighter, electric torch. Bouillon had conscientiously tidied me up and cleaned my equipment. In consideration of what I owed him, I had tipped him ten francs. He hesitated. It was a large sum! I insisted upon his taking it. I did not like being indebted to people.
I was alone in our room. I had just slipped my swollen pack over my shoulder. My water-bottlewas lying on a shelf above me. I reached out my hand to take it. Ugh! it slipped out of my hand, and fell on to the tiles.
Damn—oh, damn. Supposing it leaked!
I ran to a tap and began to fill it.
Yes, there was no doubt about it. It was done for!
I was in despair. Nothing worse could have happened to me. I knew the incomparable value of a few drops of moisture at critical moments. When you are exhausted and choked by the sun and the dust, there is nothing like a drop of water on a piece of sugar, or a thimbleful of rum to revive you. And on a route march too you are sustained by the mere thought that you are carrying with you this source of refreshment. And I who had taken such care, and was so pleased at having this clean well-corked water-bottle.... What odiously bad luck! My whole campaign seemed to me to be poisoned by it....
Bouillon arrived on the scene. Directly I had told him, distractedly, of my misfortune.
"Good heavens!" he said, "that it should 'appen just now! It's far too late to get it soldered!"
I sighed. He looked round the room.
"W'y not sneak one?"
As I shrugged my shoulders. He continued:
"I'll undertake the job if yer like?"
"But how?"
"Oh, I'll get one from someone or other."
"You mustn't touch Guillaumin's things, mind."
"No, 'e's in the section. Wot abaht this one?"
"De Valpic's?"
"All right! Wait a minute!"
"But I say, he...?"
I hesitated.
"He would notice it! The cases are marked, look...."
"Don't you go an' worry yerself abaht that now! You've only got to change them! You go an' keep an eye on the door...."
I went and watched the corridor. I was consumed by a lively remorse. But what did it matter! Each one must fend for himself! He would have to get out of the difficulty as best he could. After all there was nothing more usual in the regiment than these sly thefts. Why, someone had relieved me of one of my brushes only the day before yesterday! I blamed myself for my horrible selfishness, but I had practised it for so long. The opportunity was too tempting! Anything rather than to suffer, hour after hour, from thirst or the fear of thirst! And did I not promise myself—hypocrite that I was—to share my ration of water with the comrade I had despoiled?
In the twinkling of an eye Bouillon had dexterously drawn the two bottles out of their cloth cases, and effected the exchange.
"Nobody will ever be any the wiser!"
De Valpic came in soon after and noticed nothing.
I can hear the whistle. Quick march! We shook ourselves.... That was a never-to-be-forgotten moment.
I was in the rear of the section. I considered our column; expressions and attitudes at that moment imprinted themselves on my memory. Fifteen yards in front at the head of the section Guillaumin was marching along with his usual swing. I ran an eye over my half-sections. Here were Gaudéreaux and Trichet; there was Judsi, the buffoon, giving animitation of the goose step; Lamalou with his képià laKnut. Loriot, the man with the rupture, gloomy and already dragging his leg along affectedly; my corporals, Donnadieu, a little pale, sandy-haired man gripping the butt of his rifle convulsively. Bouguet, extremely fit, turning round to see that all his men were there.
It gave one the impression of a holiday parade. I have mentioned the windows decorated with bunting, the men's rifles and packs too were ornamented with little flags. And the flowers! In one section, Trichet, who was a gardener by trade, had procured great bundles of them. They had been distributed among the different half-sections. The other sergeants had been given roses or dahlias by their men. I had been forgotten, and when Bouillon, who was annoyed about it, had brought me some geraniums just as we were starting, I refused them with thanks! Quite unnecessary! I alone was clear-headed. You would have thought that I alone knew to what a sinister revel we were hastening.
Left! Right! We were all marching at the same pace, towards our mysterious destiny. For how many of us had Fate signed the order of arrest! I tried to pick out the first victims. Was it that block-head—Henry, I think, they called him—who would be picked up in a fortnight's time, with his leg or head torn off? A big dark fellow was laughing, showing his teeth in a huge guffaw. I mentally put him down as not being one of those who would come back. This ghastly game fascinated me.
On getting to the main street we halted for a time and waited to take our place in the regiment. The bugles passed by.
Sol mi: Sol do!La classe s'en va!
Then we followed the stream.
A line had formed three-deep along each pavement. All F——, all the neighbouring country was crowded there. Our departure effected the country even more than that of the regulars. These men from twenty-five to thirty years old were the married youth, who had taken root and founded a family. Drawn up in the doorways, or leaning from the windows, women and children, with all their heart, were shouting:
"Long live the 3rd...!"
A territorial called out:
"Halloa boys? We're coming on the day after to-morrow!"
"Hm! At a safe distance!" Judsi retorted gaily.
The men waved and smiled at their relations and friends who had come up, but nothing further; there was no chance of hanging behind, or falling out. Even Judsi soon gave up his tomfoolery; each one felt instinctively that a brave bearing would influence the people's confidence.
The clamour round us continued to increase:
"Long live France! Long live the 3rd...."
The distant voice of the bugles only reached us in snatches now, but we marched in step all the same. The collective excitement went to my head. I marched with my eye fixed in front of me, my rifle glued to my shoulder, a soldier among these soldiers.
When we got into the Avenue de la Gare, I caught sight of De Valpic, guide to the 2nd section. He had half-turned round, and was leaning to one side, with an anxious expression. I suddenly thought of hiswater-bottle, filled just as we were leaving. Drops must be trickling from it now at every step.
I was ashamed of myself. I despised myself. If I did not go quite as far as to vow to make amends for this villainy—and how I should have set about it I do not know—at least I swore that it should be my last; yes, the very last.
I was going to be born anew, and quite different. My heart was beating more warmly. Carried away by the rapidity of the pace, uplifted by the untiring acclamations of the crowd, it seemed to me that I was out-distancing the man I had been.
PART II
BOOK IV
August 9th-12th
CHAPTER I
UNDER WAY
Thebugle sounded. We might get out.
Versailles. How these platforms swarmed! Ten convoys, like ours, with their carriages decorated in the same way with flags and branches of green leaves, scribbled over with harmless inscriptions and caricatures, had turned out, topsyturvy, this crowd of soldiers in chequered uniforms. The hubbub was tremendous. Everyone seemed in the best of spirits. There were flowers in every cap. We were forbidden to go far. As a matter of fact, no one thought of such a thing, we had to take care not to lose our company, and section. We hardly ventured as far as the fountains of drinking water. Having awaited my turn for it, I went up just after Judsi. I actually felt inclined to smack him on the back, he was so tantalising with his trick of drinking with his lips glued to the tap.
Guillaumin told me when I joined him that the halt was to last for an hour. We might take a turn! We amused ourselves for a moment, by watchingsome horses being entrained—by no means an easy job. They were hoisting them in with slings. Their place of export was marked "Remount depôt Saint-Lô." Guillaumin nudged me with his elbow.
"Some concentration, what!"
It was true. All the Brittany lines, most of those from Normandy and Atlantic coast, converged there, bringing with them the blood of a third, or almost a third, of France.
We got back into the train. Evening was coming on. Guillaumin and I were to keep order in the truck; forty men in our charge. To begin with everyone had submitted to the restrictions concerning the arrangement of packs and rifles. Now the confusion began. A lot of them had got hold of their packs again to make a pillow, and most of them began to shed their equipment.
Lamalou set about moving the seats. I interfered. He began to argue about it. Guillaumin had to join in, and Bouillon too.
We started off again. Were we going to skirt Paris on the north or the south? We soon found out. The train approached the gradient at Buc. We watched in vain for some aeroplanes. Judsi exclaimed:
"Wot are you thinkin' of! They've all gone orf to Berlin!"
There were brief stops at small stations. The same scene was repeated every time: idlers crowding up to the railings to cheer us and we replying with shouts of "Death to the Bosches!" "Down with the Kaiser!" solely out of politeness, in order not to disappoint all these people who had waited so long. There was no longer the frank enthusiasm there hadbeen just now on leaving F——. The men were getting tired. The Red Cross members who distributed chocolate, fruit, and post-cards in profusion were no longer hailed with the same delight. Loriot and Lamalou ended by grumbling because they were so stingy with the wine.
The night fell, and with it what was left of cheerfulness. Judsi was the last to give in. He picked out well-known airs and set new words to them, ineffable drivel, beyond all description, and probably of his own composition. The coarsest sallies still raised a few laughs. These echoes of an inane merriment were becoming quite unbearable.
I thought of shutting the men up altogether. Guillaumin dissuaded me from doing so:
"Take care you don't get yourself disliked!"
It was getting dark. Corporal Donnadieu lit the section lantern. Where was it to be hung? To that hook in the middle of the ceiling. It swung backwards and forwards giving a flickering light.
Everyone was making preparations now, for going to sleep. A small number occupied the seats, the rest were stretched on the floor. They formed tangled groups in the shadows. Good-humoured elbow digs and expostulations were exchanged.
Guillaumin had lain down beside me, with his own head on his pack, and that of one of his corporals fitted between his knees. He became expansive and exclaimed:
"How's this for up-to-date comfort!"
It was a stifling evening. I was hot and uncomfortable, as I had not even had the courage to undo my belt. We had had a cold supper. The smell of cheese and sausage still hung about. It was the firsttaste of the promiscuousness. As long as the two doors were open, the atmosphere was breathable. But here was Bouguet, who had just lain down, shouting:
"What do you say to shutting the door. There's a beastly draught."
Some coarse aside of Judsi's raised roars of merriment.
Lamalou sat up.
"Let's shut the door."
I shouted from the end of the carriage:
"Steady on! You must leave room for a little air to get in!"
Lamalou took no notice.
"Didn't you hear?" asked Bouillon. "The sergeant's orders were to leave it open!"
Bouguet objected.
"Do you want us all to catch our death of cold, sergeant? Besides it's the rule that doors must be kept shut at night."
Guillaumin raised himself, and whispered to me:
"The chap's quite right, you know!"
"How's that?"
"Thepoiluswill roll off into the scenery when they go to sleep."
This prospect was disquieting. I said no more, but let them do as they liked. A minute afterwards I complained of the stuffiness.
"Why not have the ventilator opened?" Guillaumin suggested.
"What ventilator?"
He was obliging enough to get up and feel about to find the bolt. The shutter slid along in the groove. A scrap of sky showed through, and some fleecy cloudsshining in the moonlight. I announced that I should like to spend my night at the window.
"Are you quite off your chump? Try to have a snooze!"
"I'm not sleepy."
I groped along avoiding the slumberers and reached the seat near the wall. I succeeded in pulling myself up, and leaning my elbows on the opening, I breathed in the delicious night air.
Our convoy was crawling along at a monotonous pace, through the darkness. It seemed of an immoderate length, dark from end to end, except in the centre, where the light from the officer's saloon shone on the ballast. By leaning out while we went round the curves I could make out the fire in the engine, a curtain of purple, with fantastic shadows moving against it. Our whistle often blew, and others answered stridently from the distance. The regular clank of the wheels on the rails was audible, and a minute red dot could sometimes be seen at the end of a straight piece of line—the tail light of the train ahead of us.
There were thousands of fleecy clouds scattered over the sky, all lit up on the same side by the pale rays of the moon. We were leaving the Vallée de la Bièvre. The surrounding country was growing flat. A far-spreading horizon soon became visible beyond the open fields. Then the radiance of Paris rose into sight.
It was impossible to mistake it for the translucent band of a mysterious, tender blue which still lingered in the west. It resembled rather the afterglow of a sunrise or of a huge fire. The silhouettes of houses and trees stood out in the foreground like Chinese shadows against the glowing distance.
The City of Light! I revelled in the vision and the symbol, both equally imposing. What a part this city had played in history! How feverishly she throbbed to-day. I blamed myself for having failed to take advantage of the magnificent opportunity which had been within my reach the other day. Ought I not, with more fellow-feeling and enthusiasm, to have mixed with the crowd, and roamed day and night in search of the secret of Paris, which was also the secret of France! I remembered the boulevards brilliant in their multi-coloured lights, the crowd crushing against the windows of the big daily papers....
Fresh news would be appearing on the tapes at this hour. What would it be? We had not been able to get a paper all day, but a persistent rumour had reached us: "Mulhouse!" ...
Was it a prelude to victory? Was Paris illuminated? Perhaps.... But what if it were one of those ephemeral successes? What evil presentiment enslaved me? Was I still under Fortin's influence? (Fortin who was never mentioned now except in a whisper. We knew he was confined to his cell: awaiting trial by Court Martial.)
Paris! Why should I dream of defeat? Paris, our head and our heart! Paris as hostage! As martyr perhaps! I pictured the horde of Barbarians pitching their tents in the country we were slipping through, turning their guns on to the glittering capital. Where would their fury end? What would be left of these buildings, this glory, which seemed destined for immortality? These were gloomy visions. Sick at heart, I longed with more ardour than I had lately longed for anything on earth, for the miraculous miscarriage of this probability.
If there was one thing at which I was astonished, it was at not finding most of my companions at the ventilators like myself. To send Paris a last greeting! They must all, or nearly all, be feeling that all they counted dear, was shut up within those walls. I who had no one there—nor anywhere else either for that matter—this thought shook me. Nobody. My father? Was a stranger, as I have already said. I thought nevertheless of his farewell, of his fugitive tenderness, due to obscure ties of the blood. Who else was there? Laquarrière? If he thought of me it would certainly be to congratulate himself on being safely in shelter, while I was risking.... Nobody. There really was nobody!
And yet my eyes probed the darkness, my glance was unconsciously drawn in a certain direction.... In that suburb, I could imagine a street, a house, ... in that house someone ... someone who had written!—"We think of you a great deal...."
An idle dream and one which passed.
There was a metallic rattle. We were crossing the Seine. Still a few more miles to go, through the dark countryside. An important station was coming soon. Myriad lamps lit up countless railway lines.
Our speed slackened, till we slowed down to a walking pace. We slowly skirted endless pavements. I could distinguish retreating uniforms and piles of arms. An artillery sentry gave me a friendly wave.
"What station do you come from?" I shouted to him.
"Marseilles!" he replied.
His warm Southern accent had made me start. How many convoys had he seen rolling past in thesame direction during the few hours he had been there with his battery. The concentration! The idea of this gigantic operation made one think: these trains whose time-tables had been arranged months, no years, in advance, these hundreds upon hundreds of trains flashing across the country in every direction; skirting gulfs and mountains, crossing the rivers, flowing in from every extremity of France, carrying the immense masses of war material, and the harvest of young men. Caught up in this huge mechanism, this invisible unity, what a small thing I was, for all my pride of intellect!
A new tack soon threw us off the main lines. I occasionally turned round to look into the interior of the carriage, where the men were sleeping, livid beneath the swinging lantern, like corpses, I thought, at the bottom of a sunken submarine.
I stayed like this for a long time, half-awake and half-dreaming. In what direction were we going? To Maubeuge? Or Châlons? I remember a long stop in the middle of the night on a siding on the outskirts of Noisy-le-Sec.
Some of the men were awake, eating bread and cheese. I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Well, are you going to make up your mind to it?" Guillaumin asked me.
"To what?"
I yawned.
"To take a nap. Why you're so sleepy you can hardly stand up! Come along and lie down!"
"Where? There's no room!"
"What about my place?"
I declined it with thanks. He insisted. Oh, come along! It was his turn to take the air!
Very well. I gave in. We started off again. The outlook was no longer so attractive. The glow of Paris had faded into the distance, and the moon had just sunk behind the deep blue horizon.
CHAPTER II
HARASSED, ALREADY
WhenI woke, dawn was stealing in by the door which was once more open. Judsi had installed himself at it, his legs dangling outside. We all looked the worse for wear and had puffy faces.
Where were we? It was dreary, barren country, an indefinite switchback of bald ridges. The rocky part of Champagne apparently. Exactly. A few minutes later our train drew up at Rheims.
The weather was dull and drizzly. We felt cold when we got out: the men began to stamp their feet. We N.C.O.'s joined up together. Descroix and Humel complained bitterly of stiffness. The filthy carriages! Must have been made on purpose for us! Everyone was sighing for his coffee. Guillaumin preached patience. Frémont had wandered off to scribble a letter. De Valpic was pale and silent and heavy-eyed.
I left them and went in search of some clean water. When I came back, tidied up and much refreshed, coffee had been brought. The tin drinking cups were plunged at will into the "dixeys." It was scalding! A real treat! There was "rooty" too. And the sun came out: we were reviving.
Soon, a circle formed round Lieutenant Henriot.In order to make himself pleasant Playoust had put certain questions to him concerning the strategical situation. The other at once owned that he had had certain hints from the colonel—oh, it was official then!—certain indications....
I drew near. He spread out a map on a seat, and began to speak with great fluency.... I tried for a moment to follow him, but disobliging shoulders got in the way. He was pointing out certain landmarks and routes, and giving the names of towns and villages. It was all a closed book to me! I got tired of it and went off; I was inclined to mistrust these perorations by a subaltern.
Our train was shunted back, and we started again.
I was tired and peevish, and fumed at the length of our journey. Eighteen hours already, and we were nowhere near the end!
Our destination still remained a mystery, a problem which disquieted us.
Guillaumin plumped for Sedan, and worried me to tell him what I thought.
"What on earth does it matter to me?"
"Do you think they'll come back as far as that?"
To annoy him, I said:
"Sure to!"
He exclaimed:
"Well, to be going on with, you know we're at Mulhouse! Absolutely official!"
On the outskirts of Ste.-Menehould, there was a prolonged halt, without permission to get out. Another convoy was standing on a side line. There were somepoiluson the platform. Bouillon drew attention to their regimental numbers. They belongedto our division. The men at once called to each other, and asked them to join in a drink. Everyone was delighted. It seemed little short of marvellous to find neighbours from their part of the world, Beaucerons, so far from home!
A new start. The country was becoming hilly and picturesque. There were some gorges and then a long tunnel. There was no more doubt about the direction we were taking! Corporal Bouguet, who had served his term with the 4th, was most emphatic: we were taking a bee-line to Verdun!
Good! the idea of fighting under the shelter of a powerful fortress was not displeasing.
Two hours more. The valley of the Meuse was reached, Verdun attained, and then left behind.... The deuce! Were they going to detrain us at the frontier in the first line...?
No, a few miles farther on, the train stopped in the depths of the country. There was a bugle call, and Henriot shouted:
"Here we are!"
"Where?"
"At Charny, the terminus. Out you get! And no disorder, you understand!"
In three minutes we were on the ground, arms and baggage and all.
The captain passed by.
"You're not over-tired?"
Lamalou thumped his chest.
"In the pink, sir!"
"So much the better, because you've got a nice little walk before you!"
Some long faces were pulled. It was nearly midday. We had had nothing to eat and the heat was killing.
"Now we return to business!" said Judsi.
We went into the neighbouring field through a gap in the hedge. Gaudéreaux bent down and picked up a clod of earth. He sniffed at it.
"Pooh!" he said. "It ain't up to ours!"
The lieutenant heard him, and reproved him for it.
"It's the same thing, it's French soil. It's what we are going to be killed for."
Did he count on producing an effect? The other gazed at him, dumbfounded!
A little walk indeed! I chewed the word with rage during the seven hours that this march lasted. Did they think it was the right way...? The right way to discourage the men!
No respite except the hourly halts, and they managed to cheat over them, by not whistling until the hour, or an hour and five minutes was up, or cutting them short by two minutes!
If there was one thing that astonished me it was the goodwill and endurance, which I saw manifested all round me. "Grouse," the first day? Oh no, that was out of the question! A praiseworthy resolution! When going through the villages, the men found a way, even when absolutely done up, of putting on a spurt, and making eyes at all the pretty girls!
Judsi sang snatches of very doubtful songs, which made some of them laugh, while others, their more flighty sisters, blew us kisses.
Corporal Bouguet all at once started a marching song: the men joined in the chorus: the captain did not interfere, but the commanding officer came rushing up, a pot-bellied puppet, perched up on his big horse. Oh, come along! What was all this? Would theyshut up? Would they never think of the war as something to be taken seriously?
This rating was upsetting. Another incident helped to damp their spirits. The distracted group we passed on the roadside ... a lieutenant, a corporal, the cyclist, and an auxiliary medical officer, surrounding a man stretched on the ground, a reservist who had just fallen out. I caught sight of a violet face and glassy eyes.
The rumour spread that it was a fit.
The name of the man was soon discovered; he belonged to the 21st company, and was named Gaspard Métairie, a coppersmith from F——. Dead? Oh, yes! lying there like a log! I listened to the men's remarks. Poor wretch! It made one's heart bleed. So soon. And so stupidly. If it had been some of the Bosches' work there would have been nothing to be said. But like that! Simply tired out! Fathers of families, just think! Carrying the full weight!... But what was the good of fussing? The war would not be over this evening!
"Oh, a lot they care wot becomes of us," Loriot said. "I'm done, I am!"
He retired on to the footpath.
"What's the matter now?" I shouted to him.
"No good. Can't go on!"
"What can't go on?"
"I can't. I'm an old trooper, I am!"
He stopped and tried to sit down. The whole column slowed down, much interested and amused.
"March up, confound you!"
The captain overtook us.
"What's up?"
My nerves were on edge. I don't know what putthe whim into my head, but I gave a dry description of the scene at which I had assisted, the verdict given by the Medical Officer, and the man's recriminations, swearing that he would make a point of falling at the first shot.
Loriot was hugging himself and pretending to be in awful pain.
The captain did not pronounce an opinion.
"Stay with him, Sergeant; you will report him to the Medical Officer."
So we waited. Loriot sulking and livid with rage. I irritated at the thought that this task ought to have fallen to Playoust, the sergeant of the day.
The companies, as they marched past included us in the same glance of ironical pity.
Surgeon-Major Bouchut recognised his "client," as he called him, at the first glance.
"Ah! It's hurting you, is it? Easy enough to say so! I can't examine you here. Come along, jump in there! We shall soon see!"
Under my very eyes, Loriot hoisted himself up into the ambulance, settled himself down comfortably, and began to chat with the orderlies.
Infuriated by my own stupidity and the delay it had cost me, I hurried on.
The road went up and up. I began to experience the smothered sensation in the shoulders and chest caused by having to carry a pack. Every hundred yards—and what a bore it was—the buckle of my sling came undone, as the point was blunted and did not catch properly, and the rifle slipped. An inconvenience which could not be remedied, and which seemed likely to pursue me throughout the campaign. It was about four o'clock; the sun was still blazing,drops of perspiration gathered inside the men's caps and occasionally trickled on to the ground. To think that this march was nothing: mere child's play.
The worst of it was that just as I was about to catch the others up, my right foot began to feel sore. I remembered that the evening they had delivered these boots.... At the first halt I quickly took off both boot and putties.
The inspection filled me with consternation. I had hoped my stocking alone was responsible for it.... Not at all, there was no irksome fold. It was the counter right enough. What was to be done? The fatal blister was gathering. The prospect of hours of atrocious pain stared me in the face. The little courage I had oozed away.
I was dying of thirst; I poured out a cupful. The water was warm, but it refreshed me all the same. Catching sight of De Valpic, lying down with sunken cheeks, I went up to him.
"De Valpic?"
He opened his eyes.
"Will you have ... a drink?"
"But you...?"
"I've got plenty, don't you worry. I noticed ... your water-bottle is leaking, isn't it?"
"Yes, I don't know how it happened. It's very troublesome."
"Hand me your drinking cup. There now. Wait a minute!" I half-filled it for him, added a few drops of Ricqles, and pulling my mess-tin out of my haversack offered him some sugar. He took two pieces, but greedily drank a mouthful without waiting for it to melt.
"Thanks; my throat was so terribly parched."
A wave of red flooded his cheeks.
"You're a good sort, Dreher."
I sat down beside him and asked him in a friendly way whether he was not awfully tired?
"I look it, don't I?"
"Oh! Just like everyone else!"
The whistle blew! I left him.
"Cheer up!"
But at the next pause I avoided looking in his direction. There was only enough water for me.
A few more miles. The men were grumbling quite openly now. From time to time one would fall out, and all at once, or little by little lose ground, and get left behind by the platoon. What was there to be said? I interfered no more. These fellows had not had a bite since five o'clock that morning.
Were we to leave these stragglers their rifles, or not?
The subaltern said they were to be taken away.
The result was that those who remained threatened to give up in their turn. Two rifles to drag about, not much! They were quite willing to do their bit, but they were not going to be put upon, not them!
Lieutenant Henriot changed his mind.
"Each man will keep his own rifle!"
"Too late now. How are we to find the owners of them all?"
He got scared.
"I was wrong. I made a mistake!" he repeated.
Guillaumin reassured him by saying all thepoiluswere sure to turn up.
One would have thought that it all amused him, the long day's march, the hunger and thirst,—everything. He kept on joking—rather too familiarly perhaps—with Lamalou and Judsi and those of our men who stillheld out. He even took it into his head to talk theatres to me! I soon sent him off with a flea in his ear, as may be imagined. He did not notice for some time that I was limping.
"Foot hurting you?"
"Yes."
He offered to carry my pack. I was on the point of allowing him to, but Lamalou, who was watching me furtively, jeered.
"Halloa, Sergeant! You following poor Loriot's example?"
"No. I've got a sore foot," I said; "but I am going to stick to it all right."
On my refusal Guillaumin took on another lame dog's pack. Lamalou soon followed his example.
I only kept on automatically. My heel must be quite raw. Perhaps I was risking the fate of my whole campaign. It couldn't be helped. In my heart of hearts I almost congratulated myself on this opportunity of escape.
We ended by breaking all ranks. Sections, platoons, and companies were all mixed up. We were just a herd, and at the entrance to a little hamlet when the order was passed down to shoulder arms no one budged. Not much! We're not so green as all that! Give us a bite o' some'at first!
But it was not to be so lightly disregarded! The captain rode down what remained of our column, and repeated the order, brandishing his whip furiously. The men made up their minds to obey it. We found out the reason for it afterwards.... A general surrounded by his staff, was watching us march past ... someone whispered that it was the general in command of the division.
It was unfortunate that this should be his first experience of us. He took stock of us superciliously; his forehead puckered in a frown of disillusionment. The men growled.
"Like to see you in our place, old chap, with an empty stomach, and a pack on your back!"
Oh, that arrival at our billets in Orne, a village of five hundred inhabitants, already overflowing with troops of all kinds. Oh, how depressed we were, both physically and morally. I was especially exhausted. There was a complete lack of any spirit of organisation among the authorities, and the troops were totally out of hand. We were obviously worth nothing at all!
Where and how did the men get food? Guillaumin luckily took charge of the whole section. I believe he bustled about, got hold of the mess-corporal, and was the first to arrive with a fatigue party, at the issue of rations which took place in the market-square towards midnight.
I had sacrificed my "posse," but I still had some bread and hard-boiled eggs left that I had brought with me from F——. I took off my accoutrements and boots and installed myself in the best corner of the stable reserved for our lot, and slept on the straw till five o'clock next morning.
CHAPTER III
IN BILLETS
Theweather next day was glorious. A fine rain had fallen. The men now very clean and spruce, wandered about the village, with their caps cocked over their ears.
No danger threatened. No one would have thought we were at war. And as for the Bosches, let them go hang! The natives had certainly said, shaking their heads, that they had already seen some Uhlans on the neighbouring hills. Absurd inventions. A dragoon whom we questioned burst out laughing in our faces. The Bosches! They had indeed been across the frontier for twenty-four hours or so, over there towards Longwy. They were soon sent to the right-about. We might sleep in peace! We had the regulars in front of us, about twenty regiments of them!
Some trenches had been dug at the approaches to the village, the 21st had spent the night in them. It was one of the regular amusements to go and look over them during the day-time. They were very unconvincing, casually hewn out and occupied. Orne's defensive organisation! Who could take it seriously?
"Blowed if I don't think our good time's beginning," said Judsi.
The villagers were really delightful. These poor dwellers by the Meuse! They did not have much of a time afterwards. Who would not have become embittered in their place? At the outset we were touched by their cordial, almost friendly reception. Many of us went in search of a bed. I believe that but few were found which did not already boast an occupant. Lamalou's experience was a case in point. Other attachments were formed. On the other hand, Playoust came to grief—the thing became known immediately—with the grocer's pretty wife. He revenged himself by attributing the mishap to the regimental sergeant-major.
The outstanding feature—which never varied throughout the campaign—was the catering. We N.C.O.'s messed together. But Descroix and his lot were already dissatisfied with this arrangement and suggested that each platoon should fend for itself.
I was doubtful about this, but Guillaumin took me aside.
"Leave them alone! It will suit us much better!"
He explained that he had made a great find in the shape of a top-hole cook, a real professional. He had been chef at Bernstein's!!! The fellow would perhaps consent to cook for three or four, but not a word!—or the officers would appropriate him. He made me acquainted with the prodigy, Gaufrèteau, a smooth-skinned, cold creature, very much on his dignity, who would not bind himself in any way.
Our comrades had managed somehow or other to get hold of some wine at twenty-four sous the litre, good pale Lorraine wine, on which they feasted among themselves. You had to pay two francs everywhere else for a much inferior quality.
Guillaumin determined he would not be outdone, and went off in search of it. He ended by coming back triumphant, bringing the same wine at 1 franc 20, and the wine merchant was to have the bottles back!
He poured out several bumpers and made fun of De Valpic for refusing to take any. I suggested adding some water to it. He ragged me in turn.
"What are you afraid of? If we've got to be knocked out at this job, at least let's have our money's worth first!"
This coarse tomfoolery maddened me. Was it an attitude of mind assumed for war-time, to match that of those poor brutes of troopers. I sarcastically twitted him with it. He was not at all annoyed.
"Just what I'm trying for!"
Thereupon he invited his corporals and mine to empty new bottles. I could not leave him in the lurch. All these people were drinking and rotting with him round the table in the kitchen of our farm. The place was filled with the smell of burning fat. What a scene, and what a pastime! I was bored to death.
"I'll see you later!" I said, and went off making some excuse. I should have liked to meet Fortin or someone of that calibre. A pity they'd left him at F——, but perhaps it might be lucky for him.
I took a turn round the neighbouring billets. Nothing but men lying about and a lot of them had spread into the fields round about, and were taking a nap in the shade.
My foot was better. I had painted it with tincture of iodine that morning and the day before.
I got out of the village without any difficulty. A sentry, far from stopping me, asked me for some tobacco.
A hill near by attracted me. I hoped to get a good view of the surrounding country from the top. My ideas on the topography of the neighbourhood were singularly confused. I knew the distance from Orne to Verdun, 18 km. 7., and I was inclined to think the Valley of the Meuse must lie somewhere near to southwards.
My walk was not at all satisfying. From the summit I had aimed at, I could see nothing but another ridge, crowned with a dark fringe of trees. There was no outlet through which I could get a view. I came back, tired and disappointed. Up there I had tried for a moment to give rein to my imagination. Here is my country—Lorraine, I said to myself, and I looked in vain for that serene melancholy, that voluptuous calm, in the landscape.... It was obviously yet another example of poetic exaggeration. It was not unpleasing country, but it was more like—oh, anything you like to name, Perche, or the country round Paris.