"The 23rd Württembergers!"
We had taken some prisoners, and booty, and captured field-and machine-guns, according to the reports.
During the hullabaloo which followed, I asked:
"So things are going alright?"
Humel sneered.
"Oh, really, nothing pleases that chap!"
I continued:
"It's all very well, but who knows what's happening elsewhere?"
"And what's happening in Timbuctoo?"
"Round about Nancy? And in the North?"
Guillaumin laughed:
"Dreher will have it that we can't be equally lucky everywhere!"
Henriot roared with laughter!
"Oh rot, they're in the soup!"
The group dispersed. Guillaumin went on talking to the lieutenant. I stayed with them, without taking part in their conversation. I was depressed again. Why? Good God, what did I want? I envied the delirious delight betrayed by every look and word and deed in my companions. I should have liked to vibrate in communion with those tens of thousands of men, my brothers by race, who covered the surrounding country; and I caught a glimpse behind them of the enormous mass, my nation, in whom the news of our success would have let loose such a frenzy of joy.
What did I lack to raise me to the desired pitch of excitement? I appealed to other considerations of an equally exalting nature: the renewal of our greatness, the virtue of our proud blood. We were overthrowing the greatest enemy in the world, at the first encounter. Revenge was a fine thing after all...! The pride of fulfilling this hope of our fathers. It was thus that I succeeded in fanning myself into a semblance of enthusiasm.
My companions left me, eager to walk and talk, to enjoy to the full this triumph which each of them feltwas his own particular property. Left alone I soon proved that the entirely artificial fervour to which I had raised myself was subsiding by degrees. The springs of my mind were stagnant.
We were certain to start again, and starting again would mean pushing forward, following them up—Guillaumin had been quite right—re-entering Lorraine, with flags flying to be saluted as her liberators. Heavens! Surely that was enough to make a soldier's heart beat high. What would have been my father's and my brother's exaltation! To think that I was not a whit moved by it. I stripped the exploits to come of their prestige. What awaited us was simply new fatigues and torturing privations.
And I was terrified above all else, far above all else, by the spectre of the future battles. Could one risk one's life twice with impunity! I had escaped the first time by a miracle. Let me profit by it! I had been wrested from repose and security. Had I not already drawn from this campaign more than the benefit anticipated! I had my share of memories which would last me all my life. I had ascertained that I, even I, was capable of a kind of heroism. What a gain! And a boon that was more precious still, I had regained consciousness of the ties which bound me to a small number of human beings. I longed to be with them again. I would bring them a man infinitely more worthy of them. I had two cards in my pocket. A third had gone to a girl.... Would that one ever reach its destination? Would it be answered ... soon?
Lulled by these dreams, I discovered in them an excuse for the drowsiness which enfolded me. What I experienced was only human. Why a Roman rigour?If I did not burn to risk everything blindly in an adventure of regeneration, if I let myself be touched by the idea of a calm life spent among companions of my choice, if, in order that such a desire might be fulfilled, I caught myself wishing for a cessation of hostilities, an armistice, or an "honourable" peace of some kind, good God, was it anything to be ashamed of? What right had all the great sentiments in the world to suppress my humble wish to be happy?
CHAPTER XIV
EN ROUTE AGAIN
Sometime passed by. A distant fusillade crackled for a moment. The big guns boomed for an hour, and then were silent. It was becoming doubtful whether we should go on that day. Henriot got impatient. The men asked for nothing better than to start again. When once the rations had been issued and the cooks had dished up a hot meal, we could manage.
There was some question of a party of us being told off to bury the dead. I dreaded lest this fatigue should fall to us; I foresaw how horrible it would be. We luckily escaped it. An unexpected order came for the battalion to move on.
I noticed that we were going northwards, in the direction of the enemy. We were preceded by patrol parties, and reconnoitring cavalry covered us.
The march was not marked by any notable incident. I remembered that we passed through a big village which had been occupied up till the night before by the enemy. One would have liked to stop there, to question the inhabitants whom we were delivering from this nightmare, and make friends with them.... But where were they? There was nobody but old women to be seen, and on their waxen faces Ithought I made out a strange resentful expression. Why resentful? Because their village had been abandoned, and left if only for a few hours to the mercy of the invaders, who had taken the healthy men with them when they left, and had said: "We shall come back, but next time we shall not leave one stone upon another."
We got hot, marching. I was possessed by the thought of poor De Valpic dying of thirst. I ended by going to find him, and offering to share what was left in my water-bottle with him. He refused to accept it, and I had to force it on him, but this scene which was repeated twice a day bored me.
Bouillon noticed my annoyance and realised the reason for it. He hailed the cyclist, a man named Ducostal, and gave him to understand that my water-bottle leaked.
"Try to get hold of one for the sergeant! Enough poor lads have been knocked out with them!"
"Righto!" said the other. "I'm just taking a stroll across to the field ambulance."
Just on the chance I begged him to ask for news of Sergeant Frémont of the 22nd, down there.
He went off. I felt certain that he would forget both commissions.
During the long halt in a field by the roadside, some troops came into sight. We went to have a look, because it was a regiment of regulars, which had been heavily engaged, we knew, during the last few days.
We were at once struck by the gait of these men. They were advancing very slowly and seemed to have to make an effort to raise their legs at each step they took. They halted. When arms had been piledmany of them did not even take the time to undo their packs, but let themselves fall where they stood. Several of them went to sleep instantly.
They were worn out. Three days' fighting without a pause and three nights.... The terrible nervous armed multitude, not a gesture, not a cry of joy in honour of this victory which they had won. Not to speak of the uniforms stained with mud and dust, and some in rags. The terrible part was these dull, ravaged faces, with their scared and dazed expressions.
I went down their line in silence. What gaps there were in these ranks! In one platoon there were only fifteen men left. A fair-haired corporal on the ground was trying to get to sleep, but the flies persecuted him. I chased them away.
"Thanks," he said.
I knelt down and asked him:
"How have you got on?"
He turned a dull eye on me, and answered in a broken voice, interrupted by dismaying silences:
"We're done.... Ever since the other morning—what day is it?... we have done nothing but fire ... and be fired at. At night too.... They kept us on the hop ... with their whizz-bangs and bombs.... Without rot, there were times ... when we envied those who fell, because they could at least pause for a while.... Look here, yesterday evening when the rations arrived ... well ... no one had the strength ... to put the stuff into their mouths. They had to send some dragoons ... up ... from the rear ... to feed us ... we would rather have gone under."
I left him. I understood now why the conquerorsdo not usually take full advantage of their victory. And I thought that to-morrow it would perhaps be our turn to go through it all.
We had just started off again when Ducostal turned up. He handed me a new water-bottle:
"Here you are, Sergeant!"
"Thanks. You're a ripper!"
"Do you know, nobody knew your pal," he continued. "I was sent from pillar to post. Then at last I had the luck to come across the bloke who picked him up. He's not dead, but it'll be a near thing if he pulls through. Got a ball through the lungs."
"Oh, I hope to goodness he'll recover!" I said out loud.
I had fumbled with my purse in my pocket, and slipped a piece of silver into the man's hand. He looked at it, and then gave it back.
"No, Sergeant, we're not out to make at this game. You stick to it."
"And then," he added, "do you remember one morning when you were sergeant of the guard you didn't report me missing?"
The incident occurred to me. So he was the fellow who had turned up one morning, after a day's leave, and implored me to mark him down as having come back at midnight.
"Oh, so you haven't forgotten that?"
"Rather not. We don't forget the sahibs, any more than we forget the wasters."
I was decidedly in a fair way to becoming popular.
At the next halt, I went to find De Valpic:
"Look here, old chap, do you see what I've managed to get hold of for you?"
I held up the new water-bottle.
"And what about you?"
I tapped my own.
"I've got mine, but it worried me to see you without one...."
While I was helping him to adjust it, and to unbutton his shoulder-straps, he tried to say something to me:
"Dreher ..." he began twice.
I interrupted him. I was unusually good-humoured, and gaily told him of my experience with Judsi the day before. I added:
"You have to know how to tackle these chaps."
I asked him if he had seen that wretched regiment.
In this way I managed to fill up the two minutes' halt.
"Au revoir, old fellow!"
When I left him I whistled, and felt tremendously cheery. I believe I deluded myself into thinking that I had played the Good Samaritan.
The day's march was lengthening. Henriot was anxious about the direction we were taking.
"Where are they taking us to?"
We were bearing distinctly westwards. Guillaumin suddenly came up to me and pointed out that our company had been detached from the rest and was marching alone.
Were they going to make us take outpost duty? There was no further doubt about it when our platoon went on alone, leaving the rest of the 22nd as supports in a farm. The lieutenant had his instructions; he sent out scouts and made us advance trailing arms.
In about ten minutes when we had just entered the woods, he said:
"Here we are!"
An important crossroads. The site was well chosen.
CHAPTER XV
A NIGHT ON OUTPOST DUTY
I passover the arrangements of our pickets. Each one of us knew his duties, and acquitted himself conscientiously in his part. Henriot made a thorough reconnaissance. When he came back he showed me a plan which he had picked up.
"By way of practice, do you see? Our maps only go as far as the Rhine!"
At dusk, a lukewarm meal was brought to us from the supports.
The gloom grew more intense. Our vigil was beginning.
We established ourselves in a clearing about twenty yards from the road. The stumps of some trees which had been cut down were utilised as seats, a lot of us sat cross-legged, either on the ground, or on little tufts of brushwood, which were a poor protection against the damp. No fire, of course. By the flickering light of two dim section-lanterns placed on the ground we could make out the carpet of trampled grasses, and a big black circle, the remains of a log fire.
What a night that was. During the first few hours Guillaumin and Henriot never ceased chattering below their breath. I wondered that their fatiguehad not more hold over them. I only half listened to their conversation which still concerned our victorious march, and the demoralised enemy flying before the sword. Speed, they declared, speed must come before everything else. We must fall upon the Bosches in the rear before they had time to recover themselves.
The first excitement occurred towards ten o'clock, a shot in the distance, on our left. Everyone leapt to his feet. Another, and still another.... There was no doubt about it; the sentries' orders had been so explicit; there was to be no firing except in case of danger or surprise. No. 3 picket, next to us, had surely been attacked. Henriot, much agitated, repeated the instructions: at a given signal, we were to extend and fall back on the support....
"It was not our business to put up a fight...."
The surprising thing was that the firing was dying down. We remained on the alert, and it was not ten minutes before new shots rang out, on our right this time, at No. 1 picket.
"They're crazy!"
Henriot fumed.
"The lunatics! Now our whole line of outposts will be marked!"
He was proud that our lot had kept their heads. But it was somewhat previous. A shot burst out in the wood, a hundred yards away, then a second: three, four, six. We saw a man rush up stammering distractedly: "Someone had come up, he had challenged them, they had not stopped, his comrades had been carried off...."
Not very encouraging! However, eight or ten volunteers offered to go and see what the matter was. On the way whom should we meet but the comrade in question, who was on the lookout and slightly uneasy, but made great fun of his companion, who had apparently fired at some shadows. Henriot was annoyed and inclined to be hard on him. Lamalou went to him.
"Blackguard 'im if yer like, sir, but don't 'ave 'im punished. It's always the same story o' nights just at fust, you sees and 'ears things!"
He spoke from his experience in the African bush. Henriot calmed down, and agreed that the sentinels were too far from the reserve picket; the arrangement of them was altered.
This continued all night ... shots, quite near at hand or some far away, marking out the zone which was being patrolled. We soon got accustomed to it. At the end of two hours no one worried about it any longer, indeed not enough.
An overpowering desire to sleep began to take possession of us. Over and over again I almost gave way. My head nodded, my eyelids closed. Then Guillaumin gave me a shake.
"Halloa, there, don't leave us in the lurch!"
Henriot rubbed it in!
"Remember we are responsible for the security of the whole army."
There was no gainsaying the fact that he behaved in the most praiseworthy fashion, sparing himself no pains. He was always to be seen on his feet, going to shake up the men who were reeling with weariness. Towards midnight, the critical time, he suddenly proposed that we should play games. I thought at first that he was joking. But no, he had undertaken to keep us awake at all costs. He must treat the children in his school in the same way.Childish occupation kept us amused for a long while. The greatest success was the game of Old Mother Perlimpin Pin which soon had to be stopped as the laughter was becoming so uproarious.
Towards two o'clock in the morning a thunder shower came on. We were soon soaked to the skin.
"In ordinary life," joked Guillaumin, "we should have kicked the bucket after a night like this."
I offered to go the rounds with the object of keeping myself awake.
The first sentry challenged me at a good distance. It was Judsi. He was calmly smoking a cigarette.
"Smoking's not allowed, Judsi."
"Pooh. It's a bit o' coompany. That won't stop a chap keepin' 'is eyes skinned."
But directly I had pointed out that the point of light might betray his presence at a distance, he gave way:
"That's true enough, that is."
He instantly threw his cigarette away in the damp grass.
I wanted to try an experiment on the next sentry-group and continued to advance after the order to "Halt!" Very well! I saw my two fine fellows both order arms again.
"Well, what are you up to? This is a nice state of affairs." I reproached them.
"We recognised you, Sergeant!"
"That doesn't matter, you ought to have made me halt."
"But as we recognised you!"
It was impossible to get them to alter their opinion. As for the last two sentries, they simply "about-turned" on the spot; that is to say, that at the first suspicious sound they fired on the picket.
I saw how unhinged and overwrought they were, and had pity on them. I ended by promising to say nothing about it to the subaltern.
I found the latter on his knees. He had spread out his map, which was beginning to get torn, and was saying to Guillaumin that we should do no more than screen Metz; the chief thing was to push straight on to Mayence, the key to the whole of the Rhine district.
The rain stopped, and some time passed. Towards four o'clock Henriot shyly suggested:
"Would it bore you frightfully to go out with a patrol party?"
"On the contrary!"
The idea appealed to me. By gad, I was not sorry to be able to stretch my legs. I chose four men. Bouillon who had just been on outpost duty absolutely insisted on being one of them. He was not going to let me go alone. He was certainly a good chap!
We plunged into the darkness. Hardly had we gone a hundred yards before it seemed as if we were a hundred miles away from the picket and its protection. We were in the middle of the forest, the gloom was intense. Silent raindrops dripped on to our shoulders and caps from the foliage above our heads. My companions followed in my footsteps. I was not only ahead of this patrol, but ahead of the whole army, a daring explorer sent out towards the enemy, who was perhaps lying in ambush. I often stood still and silently gazed into the darkness. I had told my men to regulate their movements by mine, but we were almost invisible to each other. Sometimes I distinguished ... that noise of muffled marching ... didn't it come from in front? Or again when I heard some branch crack in the under-wood, my heart thumped unevenly; I caught my breath; I thought I made out forms, phantoms crouching, yonder ... ready to hurl themselves.... How agonising it was!
How much more courage I had need of than when under fire. I regretted yesterday's danger in comparison. I opened my mouth to shout, "Everyone for himself!" My trembling knees wanted to fly. But here, as on the day before, what urged me on against my will was the presence of the men who saw in me their leader. The consciousness of my rôle, of my authority which must be kept up, seized me by the collar. I had to go on, and I went on. I got safely past the place where I had feared the ambush. For a moment I was delighted to have surmounted this terror, delighted even to have experienced it. What a chapter it added to my campaign impressions! What a joy it would be one day to recall these deadly terrors, if only I escaped them.
It was an interminable journey. The subaltern had told me to follow the road up to the edge of the wood. Having arrived there I was to take a certain road whence I should get excellent views over a large stretch of country.
We continued to advance. Our shoes squelched in the soft loam, and got covered with lumps of mud. We were splashed at each puddle. Our feet were soaked, our hands, pinched with cold, clutched convulsively at our rifles.
It was nearly forty minutes since we had left the clearing. From time to time a shot on our left reassured us; a sentry group was on the lookout there. I was still watching for the road which ought to turn off on our right. The forest just lately had given placeto a bushy thicket. The sky was already paling, and in the clear transparency I saw the beginning of a bridle-path. What a relief! All we had to do now was to skirt the hostile zone, instead of continuing to penetrate into it, more terrified at each step.
The path climbed the side of the hill. We occasionally caught a glimpse of a misty expanse. Farther on, the view opened out, and we lay down flat on our faces, our elbows resting on the dewy grass of a hillock.
The sky tone was neutral. The chief features in the landscape were lent precision by the coming dawn. At our feet pearl-grey meadows sloped gently down to a highway bordered with trees, which might be followed northwards for miles, running in a straight line between two rounded hills. On the left there was a bizarre eminence, abrupt and bald; on the right two steeples, one of which rose at a short distance away behind a stretch of colourless heath. A mist hung about, dimming the surfaces and blurring the outlines. Another gloomy day in the making.
"See anything, Bouillon?"
"Never a Bosche!" he declared.
Our glance probed each particle of ground. There was nothing suspicious, in the plain, or on the roads, which looked like huge ribbons. The enemy appeared to have melted away. Our field of view increased, the shadows were dispersing, and the horizon seemed to recoil. Still nothing to be seen.
"They must 'ave 'ad a scare."
Our mission was apparently at an end. It was up to the aeroplanes to take observations of the enemy's new positions. One of the war-birds happened to be flying over yonder at that moment, but we were undeceived when it approached, and we recognised a Taube.
"Let's be getting back!"
"Say, Sergeant, the country's not so dusty!"
Touched and curious, did we foresee the miracle with which daybreak was to endow us?
Here was the luminous veil of the aërial vault above us being rent and scattered. Shreds of the more transparent vapours still floated in the air, but the depths had ceased to look so uniformly dust-coloured. It was not long before cracks and then fissures and then chasms were hollowed in the clouds, and the liquid blue shone out between them bathed in a diaphanous radiance. The true sky smiled at last. The fleecy clouds dispersed and vanished, a few of them lingered in the form of scarfs, so attenuated that they looked like modest nebulas. The scintillation of the stars pierced through them. They would only shine for a moment and then pale in the growing daylight, but it was enough that they had reminded the mortals, saddened by the opaque and misty night, of their existence.
The whole of spring glowed resplendent in this summer dawn. Newly awakened chaffinches chirruped and chased each other at the edge of the wood. The luscious green countryside, a sight to gladden the eyes, exhaled the fragrance of recent harvest mingled with the resinous perfume of the firs and larches sown among the beeches round about us. Now the entire firmament was clear and serene, suggested in fluctuating colouring which changed by harmonious gradations from a mauve verging on violet, in which the western sky was bathed, to the pale phosphorescence, which, on the opposite horizon heraldedthe approach of Apollo. On that side the mists accumulated in the recesses of the valleys, evaporated more quickly, and rose up impalpable, the incense of the earth. Unsuspected ridges appeared. Through an opening between the two crests my wandering gaze could glide towards a blue distance, infinite as the ocean.
A plain, a different region, seemed to open out down there. It occurred to me that the Woevre might lie in that direction. Yes, we must have reached the confines of the valley of the Meuse. Yonder my brother had fallen. I made a vague attempt to recall my sorrow and rancour, to connect my present mission with that of the army and my nation. My consciousness repelled these fierce imaginings. Taking a deep breath I inhaled the woodland scents. I chewed a stalk of grass, and dangled a corn-flower picked on the other side of the slope. I naïvely congratulated myself on being present, in the womb of nature, at the birth of each dawn, with which I, as a civilised being, had rejoiced my eyes too seldom.
The sun rose. A ray of gold touched us, appearing from the bottom of the disk. The outline of the orb was barely discernible, hidden by the triangular shadow of some peak or other, reared at an immense distance, which stood out in relief against the luminous segment. The planet as it rose hesitated for some time before adopting a shape. It stretched itself out, and capriciously widened then lengthened itself, a dark red mass upon which it was still possible for the naked eye to gaze.
I wondered vaguely where I had lately delighted in a similar vision?
The ball grew more condensed and, ceasing itsfrolics on the orange line of the horizon, rose rapidly, armed with a blinding brilliance. Then—sparkling reminder—a sickle-shaped streak began to glitter on the ground below: some pond.... A flight of memories was instantly loosed, and soared in me, and then subsided, eddying. My heart leapt at the vivid recollection. It was the Suchet morning; we had seen the sun rise from the snowy Alps, equally distended and tortuous, until the instant, when full blown, it had reflected its disk in the waters of Neufchâtel....
Good God! How short a time ago it was. It was only three weeks since we had dallied happy in our youth. My memory caressed each detail of that excursion, the first glimpse we had had of the abyss in whose depths there had shone, like ships' lights, the lights of the Canton-de-Vaud—and our wait for the miracle's accomplishment in the icy atmosphere of the mountain top. In order to warm ourselves we had laughingly thrown pebbles down the slope in an endless avalanche....
As I lingered dreamily over this resurrection the pictures faded away of themselves. One alone persisted, infinitely sweet. I mentally breathed the name. Seated on a rock which jutted out on a level with the ground, breathing in deep breaths of the scented air of the hilltops, turned towards the rising sun, it was yours, Jeannine, my friend....
CHAPTER XVI
GOOD COMRADES
Weexpected to be picked up by the battalion that same morning, to continue the march. Nothing came of it. We were simply relieved about two o'clock by the 2nd platoon.
Annoyance on the part of Henriot. He questioned Lieutenant Delafosse who succeeded him. The latter knew nothing about it, nothing at all! He was yawning. He noted the sentry's orders with a bored expression.
We rejoined the rest of the company at the farm where they remained in support of the outposts. For the first time in four days I was able to indulge in a wash and a change of linen. The joy of it. Bouillon rolled my things up into a parcel and carried them off. He was left busy all the afternoon washing, cleaning, and brushing them, while I slept on the straw.
When I woke Guillaumin announced:
"I say, we're going a bust this evening!"
He and Breton had been to "get round" the farmer's wife, who for a comparatively moderate sum had consented to hand over a couple of fine rabbits.
"How many of us will there be for them?"
"Eight.... No; nine, with the sergeant-major."
Oh "that lot" was going to join us? Yes, Guillaumin, who bore no grudge, had invited them. He explained that we would go shares; it would come cheaper like that!
"Haven't I done right?"
I gave my approval. I liked to think it might be the beginning of a renewal of cordiality.
Guillaumin had introduced Gaufrèteaux to the farmeress, who having quickly known him for what he was, a real virtuoso of the frying-pan and casserole, had given him a free hand. She had no reason to repent it, as she was invited to join us and share the feast. Rabbità la Bordelaise, acroûte aux champignons, and hamà la Provençalereminded her of the cheer at her sister's wedding.
Playoust had persuaded her to bring out some wine. It was pronounced excellent. Much flattered, she announced her intention of giving it to us free of charge. We cheered her. We touched glasses again and again, and drank to the health of her boy, who had left on the third day of mobilisation to join her father, one of the heroes of the year '70, in the Zouaves. I am not sure that we did not drink to the health of her deceased husband.
The wag of the evening was Playoust. There was no denying that the fellow was really funny when he liked. He hummed and sang and imitated the calls of animals. And between times he got Hourcade to take some powdered chalk thinking it was castor sugar, and an egg, taken from a setting hen, in an egg cup (the chicken was in it!).
I forget how it was that he came to jeer, in pretty strong terms too, at Henriot. Humel immediately backed him up; the battalion sergeant-major, who haddrunk rather more than was wise, let him have his say, and winked, and even went as far as to put in a word himself. The poor lieutenant was laughed at for his strategical pretensions, in a really unkind manner. I was surprised. I should have thought that he would have found grace at the hands of these fellows for whom he was always doing good turns. Oh, ah! Grace! Playoust went off on a new tack, and talked of his behaviour under fire. It was grotesque. Beat everything! He had let his platoon go hang, had chucked himself into a hole, and left the others to get along as best they could.
He raised howls of laughter, and by Jove, I joined in. There was some truth in what he said after all. Guillaumin alone protested vigorously and courageously but unfortunately he embarked upon a verbose vindication which tended to prove that true courage consists precisely in being afraid....
"Listen to the staff-officer!"
He was hooted and pelted with bread pellets, and finally reduced to silence. Dessert time. The bottles went on circulating. The wine had gone to my head. I hazarded a few facile pleasantries, which were greeted with roars of laughter, which spurred my malice on to further efforts. I set myself to rival Playoust's buffoonery. He gained a momentary advantage by imitating the various phases of a pig fight. We had to go to the help of the farmeress who was choking with laughter. Then I played the ventriloquist, one of my parlour tricks. I gave a three-part scene. Our hostess again grew hysterical, and a dish was broken.
I felt occasional twinges of remorse in the midst of all this folly. All this gaiety the day after a cruelloss!... But what did it matter? Had I not mourned my brother as he would have liked to be mourned? This death already seemed such an old story.... And lastly I privately thought that I had acquired a sort of right to give proof of a versatile disposition ... violent and fleeting feelings, tears yesterday, and joy to-day. Was it not the prerogative of soldiers and children?
We spent several days at this farm. Every evening when we went to sleep, we expected to have to turn out and start off in the middle of the night. Henriot was eaten up with impatience, and repeated:
"It's madness not to profit by our advantage! We ought to be near Trèves by now!"
He calmed down at last. The captain had laughed at him, and reminded him of endless circumstances in military history, where prudence had dictated an identical line of conduct, which was to recover oneself before entering upon a new enterprise.
Besides that there was a complete lack of any news: not a word of the development of the action in Alsace-Lorraine. We only had the impression of a general movement of our armies towards the Belgian frontier. A big blow would be struck in the North! From time to time I amused myself by goading Guillaumin. How were we getting on over there, I wondered.
He no longer took me seriously, or else retorted:
"My dear chap, we only have to hold out for three weeks. The Russians will be coming along now!"
Again one might have thought we were at manœuvres. The spirit of the men was extraordinary. The fight the other day, the wounded and dead—allthat was forgotten, or rather it was taken as a basis for fearing nothing from the future. They took a delight in repeating that the worst was over. Artillery, machine-guns, and rifles had all talked at the same time. The Bosches could not invent anything worse.
I have said that I was on good terms now with thepoilusin my section, but I was not intimate with them yet. I made a few tentative advances. I asked one or two of them about their family, or their home life. They answered me politely, but did not expand. I had the feeling that I embarrassed, almost disquieted, them; so I soon stopped. There was no need to bother myself.
The most complete idleness reigned. The battalion sergeant-major no longer multiplied parades. He, Ravelli, had changed in the most extraordinary way since he had been under fire. He took no interest in anything and left his men to themselves. He may have heard—it was Breton who insinuated it—French bullets whistling past his ears!
The Lamalou-Judsi lot organised fishing parties at a pond close to the farm. No notice was taken for the first two days; on the third day they brought back a cartload of fish, having been inspired with the brilliant idea of stretching a net from one side to the other. They had cleared everything. The farmeress protested that the pond belonged to her. The captain lost his temper and threatened the beggars with Court Martial. They did not haul down their colours. Things were getting serious. Lamalou clenched his fist.
"I've been through the Court Martial once before now, I 'ave. I'll tell 'em it's a bit rough on a chap wot's going to get knocked on the 'ead."
I privately agreed with him. Playoust secretly encouraged him, just to see what would happen. As for Guillaumin, he took the defaulters apart, and reasoned with them. I don't know what he preached or promised, but the fact was that he appeased them. He went off to see the captain and disarmed him too. The matter went no further.
But that evening at mess he gave Playoust a bit of his mind. The latter, surrounded by his faithful satellites, answered back and had the last word.
I had kept out of it. It was my turn next morning. I found the whole lot collected round the well, disputing violently.
"What's up?" I asked.
Descroix shouted:
"Did you ever hear such a thing! This'll be the third day that the company has taken outpost duty."
No. 1 platoon had just been told that it was their turn to supply No. 2 picket. They had been congratulating themselves upon getting out of it. Hence their rage!
"Always the same lot to fork out."
Playoust headed them:
"It's disgustin' that's wot it is. There's the bally 21st there doin' nothing. Wy can't they send them?"
I ventured to remark:
"You've not been overdone so far."
I laughed.
"Outpost duty has its interesting moments."
They fell upon me, and in such a tone!
"Oh, Dreher ... on other people's worries...!"
I retorted. There was a sudden torrent of bitter words, of almost injurious reproaches. Yes, yes, they had seen me at it! Then they brought up theireternal grievances at F——. Descroix accused me of toadying to the lieutenant.
Oh! I turned on my heel. I was stupefied, sickened at this persistent animosity after our brotherly agape, the other day. What paltry minds they had!
CHAPTER XVII
DE VALPIC
I hadnot seen much of De Valpic during the last few days. Our platoons had relieved each other, and his presence always weighed on me a little like a vague remorse.
That afternoon I found him lying, with closed eyes, in the shed I had gone into, meaning to take a nap. He raised his eyelids:
"Halloa!"
I had to go up to him, and asked him:
"Not so bad the other night, was it?"
"For me it was."
I joked.
"For you particularly?"
"Yes, I've got a cold already."
He coughed.
"Pooh!" I said rather abruptly. "As long as you've nothing worse than that the matter with you."
I suddenly thought of him as a soft flabby creature, this tall fellow brought up by women. I think he guessed my thoughts.
"If only I had not got such a high temperature!" he said.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"High temperature! Who said you'd got a high temperature?"
I stretched myself on the straw, without much desire to continue conversation. He seemed to be searching in his pocket. I saw a sort of metallic tube between his fingers, which he unscrewed; then holding the thing out to me, said:
"Here you are, just look at this will you?"
He explained:
"It's a mouth thermometer. I always carry it on me."
"What an idea!"
I did not know that the instrument existed in this form. The graduated glass tube only measured a few centimetres. I mechanically turned it round and round until I saw the little column of mercury shining.
"102.2°!" I exclaimed. "Is that your temperature?"
"Yes."
"You ought to take some ... quinine."
He shook his head.
"You see ... it's the same nearly every day."
I did not understand.
"What?"
"I'm ill," he murmured. "It's rotten, oh heavens, how rotten it is!"
I looked at him interrogatively. Turned towards me he unburdened himself of his secret, in a broken voice. It was months, years now since he had been well. Last spring his mother—"Maman" he said (the word moved me and made me dream of mine)—his mother had implored him to consult a doctor.... He had resisted a long time afraid to hear that he was ill.... How alarming it had been when thedoctor, after sounding him, had knitted his eyebrows and told him he must be careful. It was not so very long since his father, a few months after a warning of this kind, had been taken from them.
While he talked I seized the opportunity of watching him unobserved. Now that my eyes were opened I immediately became aware of the well-known signs: this narrow, hollow chest, the sallow complexion, the pink patches on the cheek-bones, down to the tapering fingers.
"I realised that I could not take any risks and I wanted to live.... I wanted to. Two days later Mother and I took the train to Switzerland. Do you know Château d'Oex?"
I made a sign of assent.
"I stayed there for four months, April to July, resting on a long chair in the sun."
"Did you get better?"
"Much better, yes. No perspiring at night. I put on weight, and at the same time my temperature, oh! the thermometer, you know, is the surest sign of all! I had seen my father, getting so terribly feverish every afternoon! As for me, when I saw that it already rose quite easily to 101.1°, 101.3° I had not the slightest doubt about it. Well, I repeat, everything was improving. They told me that if I continued to take great care all the winter...."
He paused for a few seconds:
"But on the 2nd of August, you see ... I had to leave."
"What did your mother say to it?"
He avoided that subject, but from a chance word he let slip I guessed the anguish and the resistance of his people—the sustained struggle.
"You ought to have got discharged!"
"How could I at such a moment! And then...."
His voice was muffled:
"Our family have always fought well!"
I silently evoked the De Valpics whose names shine in our annals: the Lord High Constable, the Admiral....
"I hoped it would turn out all right. At F—— I managed fairly well; I kept watch, you see, with my little thermometer!"
"And now?"
"Ah, now! I've caught cold again. I was told: 'Whatever you do, don't get cold.'"
He coughed, and said very softly:
"This morning I spat some blood."
With a touching gesture he sought my hand and squeezed it.
"Dreher, I tell you all that because you've been good to me. Yes, yes, I shall never forget it. The other day you didn't let me thank you. Dreher, will you believe that ... I'm your friend?"
Not wishing to show how much touched I was, I continued in a decided tone:
"In the state you are in, old fellow, you have no alternative but to get discharged."
He shook his head. I insisted. I pleaded the cause of reason. He had been courageous, more than courageous, heroic. That was enough. He would only aggravate the harm, by going on! And what use could he be? I pretended to be convinced—the idea was not at all a startling one at that time—that the war was drawing to a close. A few weeks more, one or two more successes, and there would be nothing astonishing in talking about peace.
I displayed real warmth. I felt a growing sympathy and admiration for him, and his superb moral energy. And he was no superhuman hero. How near to us that sign of weakness brought him—that thermometer consulted each hour on the progress of his illness!
My pleading seemed to have shaken his resolution, but his eyes were lowered.
"Dreher, tell me candidly. You're a good soldier—what would you do in my place?"
I a good soldier! The irony of it! Was I fated to wear this halo? I who, I swear, would not have hesitated to make use of the slightest pretext for adjournment! I had to assure De Valpic that I might have acted like he had.... Yes, at the beginning I should have left in a burst of generosity. But, at this point I should realise the folly of persisting in it.
He was silent, and looked serious, his gaze fixed on the ground, his fingers twisting some pieces of straw.
"You must think that I set great store by my skin," he said.
He dreaded, with the susceptibility of a proud heart, of having gone down in my estimation.
"Oh, rot!" I said. "Who doesn't? And I bet it's chiefly on your people's account, your mother's...."
"Poor mother! She had already bought the thank-offering which we were to take to St. Peter's at Rome next spring."
Oh! so they were devout believers. An old Roman Catholic family of course! It was not surprising.
"And then ..." he continued.
He reddened.
"I was engaged to be married, when I fell ill ... and she would not let me set her free, she was waiting for me...."
That was all he said. Why did this last confidence stir me more than all the rest? Why did I get up and put an end to the conversation?
"Well, my dear chap, that's only an added reason for getting fit again. It would be stupid to make a mess of your whole future. Look here, I shall be on duty to-morrow. I'll put you on the sick report, and you can be off back to your home, with the esteem of every one of us, and ... my friendship."
I went out, and wandered about round the farm for a long time. I was moved by a profound pity. I could not shake off the thought of this poor unfortunate. To have nothing left to learn about his illness, at his age, which was my age, to go in terror of death, to feel oneself being drawn towards it!... Then I was moved to pity for myself, for us all. Were we not all under the shadow of death, faced with tragic ends? Alas! When life was sweet and smiled on us with her store of fresh beauties....
CHAPTER XVIII
DARK HOURS
I hadpersuaded De Valpic to report sick. Then destiny stepped in. We started again that same night on the stroke of two o'clock. And when I went up to him during the first halt he begged me to strike his name off the list. He felt much better. He so much wanted to see the continuation, to be in at the big victory.
Guillaumin, who appeared just then, asked if we were far from the frontier.
De Valpic enlightened him. Rather not! And judging by the direction we were taking we should soon be in that part of Lorraine which had been annexed.
Good! It would have been maddening to go a long way round.
We reached Étain, where we had a warm welcome, as the Bosches had not returned in spite of their boasting. We only went straight through the town.
It was a long stage, but we did not get over-tired in this mild weather. Milestone succeeded milestone. Metz: 43 km. 41, 40, 38.... Guillaumin was exultant:
"A mere constitutional, what?"
And Judsi:
"We'll be sleepin' in their bloomin' country, to-morrow."
Some of the men may have believed it. I thought it only right to moderate the enthusiasm.
"Oh Metz! We haven't got there yet. The siege is sure to be ghastly!"
The lieutenant who was passing, chaffed me:
"Dreher, as pessimistic as usual? He'll never believe we're getting on, until he's in Berlin."
We went into quarters at Buxy. Shortly after midnight there was an alarm. The artillery which we had not heard for some days was talking again. As old stagers we had missed the noise, it cheered us up.
But we grumbled when, having been called up and paraded in the Church Square, we were kept hanging about and freezing for an hour or more. The men "groused," and wanted to know why they couldn't be left to sleep in peace.
A lot of them wanted to "get down to it" again, and we had hard work to prevent them. A certain number sloped off in the dark. Each platoon lost a few who never turned up again.
Suddenly there was an uproar and crush at the other end of the Square. We had to spread ourselves to keep order. Playoust went to see what was up, leaving his half-section to take care of itself, with the natural consequence that it disbanded. He came back, raising his hands, with awful tales of the whole populace fleeing before the invaders! There was nothing to be done! This time the Bosches were coming in dense masses, ravaging and setting fire to everything!
A group was formed round him. The men listenedanxiously. He pulled a face. Was he rotting, or speaking the truth? We never thought of interrupting. However someone did take it upon himself. It was De Valpic, whom no one had counted on.
"That'll do, Playoust! No tomfoolery!"
The other was quite taken aback. Guillaumin and I saw the danger, and went to the rescue, turning his tales to ridicule. He tried to back out of it. The men were reassured, and began to laugh, and our own confidence was strengthened by it too.
Yes, but what were we waiting for here? For orders, always orders! They were delayed for a good while longer, and when they did arrive, dumbfounded us! We were to fall back on Étain.
There was nothing to be done but obey, so we retraced our steps along the road we had followed so gaily the day before. Dissimulation was no longer possible. We caught up and mingled with the sad troops of fugitives. As long as the darkness lasted, we only half-realised what it meant. But what a ghastly vision of distress the daybreak brought us!
A dismal procession of women, children, and old men, many of them on foot, laden with packages and bags, or pulling and pushing wheelbarrows and hand-carts—the others huddledpêle-mêlein conveyances of all ages, shapes, and sizes, drawn by oxen, donkeys, and dogs. The whole populace, as Playoust had said, people hurrying along, elbowing their way, getting hung up, and delayed. Their heads were hanging, and they did not answer the stream of questions which burst from our ranks. Babies' tears, and mothers' sighs. Every other minute a cyclist, or a staff car cleared a way for itself, tooting and cursing.... And I remember an old, a veryold peasant, perched on a big tilted cart brandishing his pitch-fork and shouting to us, as he pointed in the opposite direction:
"That's where they be, you slackers!"
I was glad when, by eight o'clock, we had out-distanced the gloomy horde, by our regular pace. But a long halt on the outskirts of Étain condemned us to being caught up again by the mournful stream which flowed all day.
In the evening we set off again, and once more went through the little town. How it had changed since the day before!
Consternation reigned.
We asked:
"What's happening?"
"They are there!" was the reply.
"There!" One would have thought they meant a hundred yards away! The inhabitants were turning out. I can see a well-dressed old woman, in mourning, on the pavement in front of her house, loading a waggon—her maid was helping her—with a confused medley of furniture, ornaments, clothes.
"You needn't be in such a bloomin' hurry, Mother," shouted Judsi; "can't you see we're here!"
"You won't stop them," she retorted.
"Oh, steady on!"
She raised her voice till it became a shriek:
"You won't stop them, I tell you! It's just like it was in 1870!"
She raised her gaunt arm, her piercing voice carried well.
"Old witch!" growled Guillaumin.
We passed on, but could hear her apostrophising the platoons and companies behind us:
"You won't stop them!"
Her monotonous imprecation possessed our minds for a long time.
The night fell, but we marched on and on. What a day's march this was, too. Having had a meal we managed to hold out. We advanced without thinking and yet what extraordinary sights we came across. The enormous column of fugitives was trailing along this roadway too. This time we were going up-stream, pushing northwards from Étain.
But what were these soldiers scattered among the heart-breaking band. The moon was beginning to shine. We caught sight of uniforms, at first isolated, then in groups—all the troops mixed, and the ranks, too, apparently.... The strange thing was that it never occurred to us to ask what they were all doing or where they were going.... A few details only struck us. Why so many foot-sloggers on horseback? This problem worried Guillaumin. He sounded me several times.
"Mounted scouts, do you think?"
I answered drowsily:
"Of course!"
We advanced in silence, mechanically keeping our intervals, our columns of four. No more peasants, and only an infinitesimal number of civilians drifted down-stream now. The crowd was swelling though. Transports and teams followed each other, rolling along, slipping and sliding. They were all military-limbered waggons, forage waggons, ambulance waggons, munition waggons, a sutler's van. Battery after battery—an extraordinary state of confusion. Here were mud-crushers whipping horses, some of whichfell, there hussars on foot, dragging their worn-out beasts along.
We passed companies lying in the shade of the ditch, and envied them. There had been no halt for us for two hours at least. We had just climbed a hill; I was marching with half-closed eyes. Guillaumin nudged me:
"Heavens above!"
I opened my eyes. A large stretch of country lay before us, a dark undulating plain enamelled with monstrous glares.
I turned towards my companion.
"Villages!" he murmured.
Burning! That woke us up. We slowed down bewildered.
Bouillon said:
"Pore wretches, that's w'y they was doin' a bolt!"
I counted the fires. Two to the right of the road, one of which seemed quite near, and had high flames shooting up, which cast a glow all round. Three to the left, and right in front of us at the axis of our march, a huge conflagration.
Spincourt? I had heard that name.
The guns were growling sullenly. I tried to work, myself up to a generous pitch of fury. These hamlets in flame, this blood-stained earth, was my France, my Lorraine!
But I was like a disconnected electric current.
We were told to lie down in the ditch where we slept. But not for long. We were made to get up and retire a little, and lie down again—we slept once more—then we returned to our first site. We obeyed without grousing, and this time the rest was more worth having. We dozed until daybreak.
The defilade along the white road continued. How many officers and men, with horror and despair at their hearts, did we meet that August dawn? Henriot came to find us. He was tortured with suspense at last. What were all these people doing? We shook our heads, hesitating to pronounce an opinion. It all passed as in a dream. Silent, preoccupied phantoms who seemed to be hastening towards some goal....
Now, however, some were to be seen whose pace was less rapid, and who did not detest being looked at—men who had been wounded, only slightly for the most part—who seemed to be saying, "We have done our bit!"
A few of us ventured to question them. Oh, what replies we got. A snare! A shambles! There were too many Huns! Each man claimed to be the only one left of his battalion or regiment.
A battalion sergeant-major, hit in the foot, gave us a graphic account. "The Bosches were coming out of a wood, our 75's loosed off a belt at them, and made pretty good shooting too. You ought to have seen the blighters dance! We were under shelter, not far off, enjoying ourselves enormously. They were blown up and fell in little pieces. Platoon after platoon cut up. Others followed them, to be met with the same fate. More still—until at the end of an hour, there was a thick rampart of dead bodies all along the edge of the wood. But new lots kept on coming up and crossing the obstacle, others shoving them on from behind. Our guns were beginning to stop talking—not enough shells. And the grey swarm slipped through into the plain. Suddenly we were threatened and attacked and overwhelmed. What could we do? Retire! We ran for our lives."
Henriot ground his teeth, and muttered:
"No, no, not that."
"You'll soon see!" said the other.
He saluted, and went on his way limping.
Other accounts were in a different key. There was often a question of a defensive taken by us. We advanced, and lay down and fired. Everything was going well, but then suddenly the hostile machine guns were unmasked. Ran, ran, ran, ran. The famous crackle went on and on, mowing our lines down like corn. No use being plucky! What could we do? (That was the everlasting refrain.) Escape! Never to return again.
Some badly wounded men appeared supported by three or four comrades who made use of the excuse to escape. There were very few orderlies and stretcher-bearers. One heard nothing but complaints, for the most part unjust, of the army medical corps. Guillaumin undertook to see a Zouave, who had just come a cropper, to the neighbouring dressing station. He came back disgusted. A major had grossly insulted him:
"Oh, go to the devil! Your pal's done for!"
A certain number, who were dragging themselves along in a sorry state, found the strength to exhort us, with a melodramatic gesture, to avenge them.
Others pitied us:
"Poor lads. You don't know what it is!"
"You think not!" retorted Bouguet. "We had a taste of it at Mangiennes!"
"Pooh!" The others snorted with contempt. "Mangiennes!" Did we think that counted!
Some gunners, black with powder, who were squatting in a cart, shook their fists at the foot-sloggers.The latter, absolutely broken down, and drunk with rage, returned their invectives. They were just on the point of pulling out their bayonets. Our company commander, who had witnessed the scene, seized the most rabid by the collar. His tone and rank over-awed them.
An old sergeant, with touches of grey on his temples, followed, holding his cap in his hand, and repeating in a singsong voice:
"Stick to your packs, lads!"
It was broad daylight now. All ourpoiluswere up, taking in every detail of the show.
Will you believe that in the end not one of us was seriously demoralised. Warnings and narratives left us rather sceptical. We even felt an uncharitable tendency to rag survivors of the furnace. Their hasty gait, their burlesque accoutrements! Above all each tragic assurance: "I'm the only one left of the X——," raised storms of laughter. We had seen dozens and hundreds of bearers of that device march past! Judsi exclaimed:
"Don't cry about it, old chap! Your chums are waiting for you in Paris!"
I believe that at the bottom of our hearts each one of us felt naïvely convinced that our arrival would put everything right....
The realisation that we were witnessing a rout did however penetrate my consciousness at last, though still only in a vague way. Vaguely too I dreaded lest our energy should suffer by it.
I was delighted when we got orders, about six o'clock, to leave the high road. We went across country for not more than four or five hundred yards.
Some trenches dug there appeared before us, as if by chance.
A French dirigible, the Fleurus, passed high above our heads, and seemed, I do not quite know why, a happy omen.
CHAPTER XIX
SPINCOURT
Heavenknows whether we expected to have to charge from the beginning to the end of that interminable day. The captain and the subaltern had warned us. The cannonade raged in front of us and all round us. The German fire was concentrated against a village below us, on our right. If we were occupying it, what losses it would mean to us! To begin with we could see each explosion and the resultant crumbling of the buildings. Towards midday a thick pall of smoke rose and shrouded everything.
The fusillade and the machine-guns joined in the concert. Who would guess what they reminded me of? The mock symphony with which Miquel had amused at the Globe Café.
It will be seen that I was far from feeling the same enervation as I had the other week. I had become a fatalist.... We knew all about being under fire. We had already been through it.
I should certainly have been badly bored without Guillaumin's precious and almost continual society. We began by discussing the situation at length. He maintained that it was not serious.
He passed on some of his serenity to me. His eyes shone when he said:
"And ourpoilus, what!"
"Admirable!"
He added:
"What a fine race they are!"
I wondered whether he was speaking of the French or the Beaucerons.
What should he do a little later on, but set about extolling the treasures lying dormant at the heart of these soldiers.
"Most of them are married! They nearly all have kids! They never stop thinking of those who have stayed behind—of their family. That supports them. It's a case of morale!"
"Steady on! Don't exaggerate!"
They were good fellows, the majority, I admitted, and fond of their families, but the chief point about them was their resignation and passivity. A worthy herd!
He insisted.
"I assure you that they have their own personality and feelings, and often a very generous share of them. They are certainly no phrase-makers; it is even very difficult to get them to talk. They mistrust you and themselves. You would think that they realised that they would spoil their feelings by trying to express them in their peasant jargon."
"Well?"
"Look how they find a way of writing every or almost every day! Some of the men in the platoon have asked me to write the addresses, so that they should be readable. Others, even, to wield the pen while they dictated the text. Oh, just dull commonplace formulas, but what a tender longing in them to reassure and cheer. That all declare, whateverhappens, that they are resting, far away from the Bosches, that everything is going excellently. 'Don't you worry!' is what they say. What philosophy!"
"And I'll quote some examples of delicacy; for instance, your Corporal, Donnadieu, who was hit...."
I opened my mouth to tell him of the man's trick, a villainy which had remained unknown.
"Well," he continued, "I've got a man from his part of the world, from Neuville. He wrote a letter to the wife, who is just starting a new baby, to tell her that her husband had been pinked—in case he had not been able to let her know—but that it was nothing serious, and that he would keep her informed!"
Guillaumin now described the arrival of the baggage-master, in the farmyard the other day (I had missed this scene), and the distribution of the letters and cards. Some of them had wept. Others hid themselves to kiss the humble note-paper.