Chapter XCVIThe End Draws Near
Every day for about a week troops were almost continuously passing through Somaine and all the heavyguns were being brought up. Soon railway communications were established and some of the people of the city were making visits to Paris.
Every evening I used to sit with the curé in his little kitchen before the fire and tell him stories of the war. The old priest was kept very busy; his assistant, a young priest, had been taken, together with all the men of military age, by the Germans in their retreat. Almost every day I saw the hearse drawn up before his church and I knew another funeral cortege was soon to pass along the way. He spoke to me one evening of the frequent deaths, and then added: “The people are dying of joy.” True, the people had been so weakened through hunger that many were not able to stand the great joy of deliverance. It was pitiful to see the little boys and girls playing in the street. At first it seemed to me that they were all too tall for their years; then I knew it was that they were under-nourished.
A touching incident occurred one day when I was called upon to bury a Catholic lad from one of the battalions of the Third Division, then fighting towards Valenciennes. As I read the prayers over him, a little French girl of about eight or nine years approached the grave, carrying in her hand an oblong box of Canadian biscuits. The little one was holding the box close to her side. I assumed that one of our lads had given it to her; they were forever doing such kind acts. Presently she saw that it was one of her gallant liberators over whom I was saying the last prayers. Immediately she began to sob and the big tears ran down her cheeks. She actually shook in a paroxysm ofgrief. It was hard for the lads standing near, and for me, to go on with our work. Always during the war our hearts had been steeled, not knowing what was to come next. In a few minutes the mother came from somewhere behind us, took the child by the arm and gently led her away.
We were in Somaine nearly three weeks and the men were greatly benefited by the rest. I recall a humorous incident that occurred during our stay there. One day the curé of Fenain, which was just five minutes’ run on my bicycle from Somaine, invited me over to a disinterment that was to take place in his cemetery. Having seen enough of gruesome things, I politely declined to be present. Then as I saw the curé’s face break into a smile, I felt there must be some joke, so I promised to attend.
In my presence the casket was exhumed, and lo! gentle reader, there appeared beautiful vestments and precious altar-vessels, together with the municipal books and documents. Then the curé told me the story. The coffin had been filled with its strange contents and drawn solemnly in the hearse through the streets just as the Germans had taken over the town; and as the funeral procession moved through the street the Germans themselves had saluted through respect to the “Dead!”