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diff --git a/old/68301-0.txt b/old/68301-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ce93485..0000000 --- a/old/68301-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4763 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Under the German shells, by Emmanuel -Bourcier - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Under the German shells - -Author: Emmanuel Bourcier - -Translators: George Nelson Holt - Mary R. Holt - -Release Date: June 12, 2022 [eBook #68301] - -Language: English - -Produced by: David E. Brown and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE GERMAN SHELLS *** - - - - - -UNDER THE GERMAN SHELLS - - - - -[Illustration: The author at Camp Grant. - -The American soldier is Divisional Interpreter Umberto-Gagliasso.] - - - - - UNDER THE - GERMAN SHELLS - - BY - EMMANUEL BOURCIER - - MEMBER OF THE FRENCH MILITARY COMMISSION TO AMERICA - - TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH - BY - GEORGE NELSON HOLT - AND - MARY R. HOLT - - _WITH PORTRAITS_ - - NEW YORK - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - 1918 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - - Published May, 1918 - - [Illustration] - - - - -PREFACE - - -Life is a curious thing. In time of war Life is itself the -extraordinary and Death seems the only ordinary thing possible for men. - -In time of war man is but a straw thrown into the wide ocean. If the -tossing waves do not engulf him he can do no more than float on the -surface. God alone knows his destiny. - -This book, _Under the German Shells_, is another instance of war’s -uncertainties. Sent by my government to America to join the new -American army as instructor, I wrote the greater part of the book on -the steamer which brought me. The reader will, perhaps, read it when I -am dead; for another steamer is about to carry me back to France, where -I shall again be “under the German shells,” before the book will see -the light. - -This is the second work which I have written during the war. The first, -_Gens du Front_, appeared in France while I was in America. I wrote it -in the trenches. The second will appear in America when I shall be in -France. The father will not be present at the birth of either of his -two children. “C’est la Guerre.” - -My only wish is that the work may be of use. I trust it may, for every -word is sincere and true. That it may render the greatest service, I -wish to give you, my reader, a share in my effort: a part of the money -which you pay for the book will be turned over to the French Red Cross -Society, to care for the wounded and assist the widows whom misfortune -has overtaken while I have been writing. Thus you will lighten the -burden of those whom the scourge has stricken. - -I hope that you will find in the work some instruction--you who are -resolutely preparing to defend Justice and Right and to avenge the -insults of the infamous Boche. - -I have no other wishes than these for my work, and that victory may be -with our united arms. - - EMMANUEL BOURCIER. - - CAMP GRANT, December 16, 1917. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE MOBILIZATION 1 - - II. THE INVASION 21 - - III. THE MARNE 50 - - IV. WAITING 93 - - V. LA PIOCHE 101 - - VI. THE GAS 120 - - VII. RHEIMS 134 - - VIII. DISTRACTIONS 148 - - IX. THE BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE 166 - - X. VERDUN 177 - - XI. THE TOUCH OF DEATH 200 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - The author at Camp Grant _Frontispiece_ - - Emmanuel Bourcier at the front in the sector of - Rheims in 1915 _Facing page_ 118 - - - - -Under the German Shells - - - - -I - -THE MOBILIZATION - - -Only those who were actors in the great drama of the mobilization of -July, 1914, in France, can at this time appreciate clearly all its -phases. No picture, however skilful the hand which traces it, can give -in full its tragic grandeur and its impassioned beauty. - -Every man who lived through this momentous hour of history regarded -its development from a point of view peculiar to himself. According -to his situation and environment he experienced sensations which no -other could entirely share. Later there will exist as many accounts, -verbal or written, of this unique event as there were witnesses. From -all these recitals will grow up first the tradition, then the legend. -And so our children will learn a story of which we, to-day, are able -to grasp but little. This will be a narrative embodying the historic -reality, as the Iliad, blending verity and fable, brings down to us the -glowing chronicle of the Trojan War. Nevertheless, one distinct thing -will dominate the ensemble of these diverse accounts; that is, that -the war originated from a German provocation, for no one of Germany’s -adversaries thought of war before the ultimatum to Serbia burst like a -frightful thunderclap. - -At this period there existed in Europe, and perhaps more in France -than elsewhere, a vague feeling that a serious crisis was approaching. -A sense of uneasiness permeated the national activities and weighed -heavily on mind and heart. As the gathering storm charges the air with -electricity and gives a feeling of oppression, so the war, before -breaking forth, alarmed men and created a sensation of fear, vague, yet -terrifying. - -To tell the truth, it had been felt for a long time, even in the lowest -strata of the French people, that Germany was desirous of provoking -war. The Moroccan affair and the incidents in Alsace, especially that -of Saverne, made clear to men of every political complexion the danger -hanging over the heads of all. No one, however, was willing to believe -what proved to be the reality. Each, as far as possible, minimized -the menace, refused to accept its verity, and trusted that some happy -chance would, at the last moment, discover a solution. - -For myself, I must admit this was the case. Although my profession was -one that called me to gather on all subjects points of information -which escaped the ordinary observer, in common with the rest I allowed -my optimism to conceal the danger, and tried always to convince myself -that my new-found happiness need fear no attack. I had “pitched my -tent.” At least, I believed I had. After having circled the globe, -known three continents and breathed under the skies of twenty lands, -my wanderlust was satiated and I tried to assure myself that my life -henceforth was fixed; that nothing should again oblige me to resume the -march or turn my face to adventure. - -Alas! human calculations are of little weight before the imperious -breath of destiny. - -I closed my eyes, as did all my countrymen; but to shut out the storm -was impossible. Mingled in all the currents of public events I felt the -menacing tempest and, helpless, I regarded the mounting thunder-clouds. -All showed the dark path of the future and the resistless menace of -1914. - -I see again the Paris of that day: that fevered Paris, swayed by a -thousand passions, where the mob foresaw the storm, where clamors -sprang up from every quarter of the terrible whirlpool of opinions, -where clashed so many interests and individuals. Ah! that Paris of -July, 1914, that Paris, tumultuous, breathless, seeing the truth but -not acknowledging it; excited by a notorious trial[A] and alarmed by -the assassination of Sarajevo; only half reassured by the absence of -the President of the republic, then travelling in Russia; that Paris on -which fell, blow after blow, so many rumors sensational and conflicting. - -In the street the tension of life was at the breaking-point. In the -home it was scarcely less. Events followed each other with astonishing -rapidity. First came the ultimatum to Serbia. On that day I went to -meet a friend at the office of the newspaper edited by Clemenceau, and -I recall the clairvoyant words of the great statesman: - -“It means war within a month.” - -Words truly prophetic, but to which at that moment I did not attach the -importance they merited. - -War! War in our century! It was unbelievable. It seemed impossible. It -was the general opinion that again, as in so many crises, things would -be arranged. One knew that in so many strained situations diplomacy -and the government had found a solution. Could it be that this time -civilization would fail? - -However, as the days rolled on the anxiety became keener. One still -clung to the hope of a final solution, but one began little by -little to fear the worst. In the Chamber of Deputies the nervousness -increased, and in the corridors the groups discussed only the ominous -portent of the hour. In the newspapers the note of reassurance -alternated with the tone of pessimism. The tempest mounted. - -At night, when the dinner-hour came, I returned to my young wife. I -found her calm as yet, and smiling, but she insistently demanded the -assurance that I would accompany her to the seaside at the beginning of -the vacation. She had never before asked it with such insistence. She -knew that, in spite of my desire, it was impossible for me to be absent -so long a time, and other years she had resigned herself to leaving -with her baby some weeks before I should lay aside my work. Generally -I joined her only a fortnight before her return to Paris. This time -a presentiment tortured her far more than she would admit. She made -me repeat a score of times my promise to rejoin her at the earliest -possible moment. In spite of my vows she could not make up her mind to -go, and postponed from day to day our separation. At last I had almost -to compel her to leave; to conduct her to the train with a display of -gentle authority. She was warned by an instinct stronger than all my -assurances. I did not see her again until thirteen months later. - -Abruptly the storm broke. It came with the suddenness of a thunderclap. -The happenings of this period are a part of history. It is possible, -however, to review them briefly. - -It was announced that the President of the republic, abandoning his -intended visit to the King of Denmark, would return precipitately to -Paris, just as the Kaiser, terminating abruptly his cruise along the -Norwegian coast, had returned to Berlin. - -I went to the station curious to witness this historic return. The -approaches were black with people, and an unusual force of police -protected the entrance. The interior was decorated as usual with -carpets and green plants, but most unusual was the throng there -gathered. One noticed, in addition to the numerous officials, many -notables little accustomed to going out of their way to see affairs -of this sort. I still see clearly the gray-clad figure of M. Edmond -Rostand, the distinguished author of _Cyrano de Bergerac_; the eager -face of M. Maurice Barrès, and many others. - -The presidential train arrived precisely at the announced hour. The -engine, covered with tricolor flags, had scarcely come to a stop amid -clouds of steam, when the parlor-car opened and the President appeared. -He was immediately followed by M. Viviani, at that time president -of the Council of Ministers, who had accompanied M. Poincaré on the -Russian visit. The two advanced to M. Messimy, minister of war, shook -his hand and then those of the other officials. I looked with deepest -interest on these men on whom fate had placed a responsibility so -sudden and so heavy. They appeared calm, but it appeared to me the -countenances of both were pale as if they realized the gravity of the -moment and the weight of their trust. Whatever their feeling, only the -most commonplace words of greeting were uttered, and the group at once -proceeded to the exit. - -Here something out of the ordinary occurred. Though I should live a -hundred years, the scene would remain undimmed before my eyes. In -my memory there is no similarly indelible picture, in spite of the -fact that in the course of my ten years in the army I had witnessed a -considerable number of remarkable spectacles. Even at the funeral of -President Carnot, or that of President Félix Faure, even at the visit -to France of Czar Nicholas II, even at the Congress of Versailles after -the election of President Poincaré or any of the great public events -of our national life, I had not seen anything with so dramatic a note -as the occurrence of this instant. - -Leading the procession, the President came close to the barrier which -restrained the crowd of privileged persons, who had been allowed -to enter the station. Not a sound had been made, when, sudden as a -lightning-flash, the silence was rent by an intense cry from thousands -of throats. It swelled immediately, was taken up by the throng outside, -echoing and reverberating, till it became a tonal torrent, capable, -like the clamors of the Romans, of killing the birds. And this cry was: - -“Vive la France!” - -It was so strong, so powerful, and, in these circumstances, so -poignant, that there was a wavering, a hesitation on the part of all. -Even the horses attached to the carriages, and those of the cavalry -guard, seemed to thrill at its fervor. - -While the carriages filled and the escort, with sabres flashing, took -its place, the same acclamation, the same cry, deep and powerful, -continued to roar, in its fury demonstrating better than any deed the -national will, and expressing it in a manner so intense and precise, -that any Boches in the crowd (and there certainly were many) must -at this moment have felt the abyss opening beneath their feet; that -the horrible adventure into which their Emperor was hurling them was -destined to hasten their fall rather than assure their triumph. - -Through this crashing human concert the escort moved forward. The -crowd, however, was so dense that the carriages were not able to open -a passage, and it was as in a living wave, with men and horses in a -confused mass, that they reached Rue La Fayette, where at last they -were able to disengage the presidential cortège from the still shouting -throng. - -In the crowd left behind, a remarkable patriotic demonstration -spontaneously developed under the leadership of two noted deputies, M. -Galli and Admiral Bienaimé, chanting the “Marseillaise” and acclaiming -France. - -Now let the war come! Unity dated from this instant. - -From this hour the war imposed itself on every one. Each Frenchman -resolutely prepared himself. The Miracle, that wondrous French miracle -which was to stupefy the world and arrest the enemy at the Marne, this -sublime display of strength on the part of a France seized by the -throat, was born, under German provocation, at the Gare du Nord, in -this furious shout, in this cry of passionate love: - -“Vive la France!” - -From that evening each family felt itself warned, each man felt his -heart grow stronger, and each woman lived in shuddering anticipation. - -Throughout the land there gushed forth a will to battle, an admirable -spirit of resolution and sacrifice, on which the enemy had not counted, -that he had not foreseen, and which all his power could not conquer. -France, insulted, provoked, assailed, stood erect to her foes. - -This period was brief. People followed in the papers the energetic move -for peace undertaken by France and England, but the day of wavering -was past. War, with all its consequences, was accepted. The national -sentiment was unanimous, and the mobilization found the public ready in -spite of the shocks inseparable from such an event. - -The most serious of these which I recall, was the assassination of -Jaurès, the great Socialist leader, in Rue Montmartre. Although several -of the newspapers, and particularly the Italian press, printed that I -was in the party of the great tribune when he was killed, the statement -was inexact. I learned of the assassination shortly after it occurred, -and with several of my associates hurried to the scene. The moment was -tragic and the tense state of public feeling caused an immense throng -to swarm the boulevard. I was able, nevertheless, to reach the office -of l’Humanité and, with others, to write my name in homage to the -fallen one. - -Already history was on the march. The national defense was in -organization, and each individual had too many personal preoccupations -to give even to the most legitimate occupation more than a few brief -minutes of attention. For myself it was necessary to think at once of -the rôle of soldier, which I was reassuming. - -I hurried to my home. In the empty apartment I assembled my military -equipment with the skill of an old stager; the compact baggage -indispensable to the trooper, which should serve all his needs while -taking up the smallest space, and add as little as possible to the -weight of his burden. The experience I had had in the trade of -soldiering, the expeditions in which I had taken part (the campaign -in China, where, for the first time, I had as companions in arms the -splendid soldiers of free America; my journeys into Indo-China and the -Sahara), enabled me to know, better than most others, the essentials -of the soldier’s personal provision; what must be chosen and what -rejected, and the precise size limits by which a useful article should -be judged indispensable or abandoned because too cumbersome. - -I provided for myself accordingly without waiting for the official -call. In consequence I was able to devote my last free hours to some of -my less experienced neighbors. Among these, two poor fellows interested -me particularly. They were brothers, one of them recently married, -who, by uniting their savings, had just opened a shop not far from -my home. They had watched with dismay the coming of the tempest, and -questioned me incessantly, hoping to find in my answers some words of -reassurance. I was able to give only such answers as increased their -fears, and to add advice which they would not heed. - -“Imitate me,” I said to them; “the war is inevitable. Buy some heavy -shoes and thick socks. Provide yourselves with needles and thread. -One always needs them, and too often one hasn’t them when the need is -greatest,” etc. - -They wouldn’t listen. They continued to worry and do nothing, refusing -to the end to accept the terrible reality, closing their eyes to the -spectre as if they had a premonition that they were destined to be -crushed in the torment and both killed; which, as I have since learned, -was their fate within the first month of the war. - -In the meantime I had to write consoling letters to my wife, abandoned -at the seaside, amid a populace shocked and bewildered by the -thunderbolt, and lacking definite news to satisfy the anxious need -which saddened each individual. - -But I was a soldier. I had to rejoin my command, and I had only enough -time to pay a farewell visit to the home of my parents, where my -brothers, ready like myself, awaited me with their wives and children. - -Such an unforgettable repast. The paternal table surrounded by the -group of sons and grandchildren, each still forcing himself to smile to -hearten the others, each in the bottom of his heart wondering anxiously -what the morrow would unfold. Several of those who on this final -evening partook of the food prepared by their mother, or touched their -glasses and drank “A la France,” “A la Victoire,” will never return. -They have fallen on the field of honor, battling the odious invader, -breasting his blows and giving their lives that their sons may remain -French and free. No one knew who would fall, who would be alive a year, -even a month later, but one would have looked in vain for a quiver -in any eye or a tremor in any voice. All were French. All accepted -their duty, however it might present itself; each in his rank, in his -assigned place; to do simply, without discussion, without hesitation, -whatever the threatened country might demand of its children. - -We had the courage to laugh, at this last dinner. We heard our father -recall the memories of the other war, that of 1870, in which he had -served as a volunteer, and then we separated with words of au revoir -and not good-by on our lips. - -We were keenly conscious that everywhere in France, in all the homes -and in all the families, an identical scene was presented at that -instant. At each table the mother offered the departing ones a farewell -repast; the wives repeated their vows of affection, and the children -gave their tender love. Every one swore to make the Prussian pay -dearly for his provocation, to chastise his insolence, to arrest him, -cost what it might, and to defeat him. One entered the drama without -effort and almost without hatred, because it was unavoidable, because -France called and it was necessary to defend her. One was sure of the -right, that the cause was just, and without discussion one obeyed. -French blood--the blood which has flowed in so many wars, the blood of -Bouvines, of Valmy, and of Jena, the blood of the Revolution and of -1870--surged in the veins, quickened the pulse and grimly expressed -itself: - -“They shall not pass!” - -The night of the second of August seemed short. For myself, my -preparations completed, I retired early, well aware of the fatigues to -come; a little shaken, it must be admitted, at the thought of leaving, -for a time which might be long, an abiding-place where I had tasted so -much of pure happiness and calm joy with my young wife and our pretty -baby. - -Adventure, the great adventure of war, of journeys, of battles, and of -blood: Adventure left behind so short a time before, as I had believed, -forever, had seized me again and thrown me as an insignificant atom -into the path of the unknown, breaking all the bonds whose forming had -given me so much joy, and whose stability had seemed so humanly sure. - -When the hour arrived for my departure, I contemplated my deserted -apartment, and gave a last kiss to the pictures of my absent loved -ones. Then, in marching attire, my light sack on my shoulder, I -descended to the street with firm step and heart beating high, to begin -my journey to the front. - -The animation of the streets was extraordinary. All Paris seemed to -have turned out to form an escort for the soldiers. These latter were -easily recognized by the stern resolution of their faces, quite as -much as by the accoutrement they bore. Most of them were accompanied -by parents or friends; those who were alone were constantly saluted by -the crowds as they passed. Many people offered their carriages to the -soldiers, and others had placarded their motors with announcements that -they would carry mobilized men to the stations without charge. Around -these machines there was an ever-increasing crowd. - -I entered this human wave. Immediately one dropped the manner of -civilian life and became a soldier. By an old French habit, obligatory -in the barracks, all the men replaced their formal speech by the -intimate forms--_le tutoyer_--reserved ordinarily for one’s family and -intimate friends. - -Costumes of all sorts were there; the long coat of the workman, -business suits, peasant blouses, bourgeois jackets with a touch of -color given by the occasional red or blue uniform. Hair-cuts were in -equal variety, from the tousled head of the peasant lad and the waving -curls of the student to the closely cropped state of those who had -anticipated the military order. At the station all was well ordered. -The trains, requisitioned before our coming, and with directions -clearly indicated by placards, were quickly filled. Throughout the -cars the men were singing and shouting, giving assurance of triumph, -of prompt return, and of chastisement for the Boche. The coaches were -covered with inscriptions naïve and gay. - -“Excursion-train for Berlin.” - -“Round trip to Germany.” - -“Good fellows’ compartment-car.” - -And a hundred others, many accompanied by satirical drawings, showing -occasionally real talent on the part of the caricaturist. At the hour -fixed all moved forward. All these men departed, singing; starting -on their journey toward battle, toward glory, and toward death, -while along the way, in the gardens or at the doors of the houses, -the women, the children, and the old men waved their hands and their -handkerchiefs, threw kisses and flowers, endlessly applauding, in a -warm sentiment of love and of recognition, those who went forth to -defend them. - -No one, perhaps, of all those who departed, of all those who saluted, -believed that the war would be long, that it would involve the world -and become what it now is, the battle for human freedom, the battle to -death, or to the triumph of democracy over autocracy. - - - - -II - -THE INVASION - - -A short time before the advent of the world catastrophe, Mr. Nicholas -Murray Butler, president of Columbia University, was in France. I had -the pleasure of meeting him in Paris. He gave me the first copy, in -French and English, of the report of the American commission of inquiry -concerning the Balkan atrocities. This report was made for the Carnegie -Foundation, and he asked me to spread the knowledge of it, as far as -possible, in my own country. I believed then that I was doing well in -drawing from this interesting work a comparative study, which chance, -rather than choice, caused to appear in the _Grande Revue_, in its -number of July, 1914, only a few days before the outbreak of the great -war itself. - -I could not think, in writing this study, that it would precede by so -very short a time events much worse, and that the Balkan atrocities, -which were already arousing the conscience of the civilized world, were -about to be surpassed in number and horror at the hand of one of the -nations claiming the direction of modern progress: Germany! No, I could -not dream it, nor that I would be so soon a witness of it. - -Let us return to my strict rôle of soldier, from which I have -digressed. The digression was necessary, however, for it will make -more comprehensible the amazing situation which the war created for -me. At the time the mobilization took place I was accustomed to the -wide liberty of action, of thought, and of speech which is usually -enjoyed by the writers and artists of France. In public places as well -as in certain drawing-rooms, I met the most illustrious personages, -both French and foreign, whose presence gives to Paris much of its -unique charm. My own signature was sufficiently well known to attract -attention, and life opened before me full of attraction. Suddenly, from -the fact that a demoniacal fanatic had killed the Archduke Ferdinand -and his wife in the little, unknown town of Sarajevo, the conflagration -flamed forth. I abandoned everything which, up to this time, had -constituted the essential part of my life; everything which had seemed -worthy my attention and care, to become, on the morrow, an unknown, a -soldier of the ranks, a number almost without a name, without volition -of my own, without individual direction. - -This was, it still is, a great renunciation. To really grasp its -meaning, one must experience it himself. However, by reason of the -importance assumed gradually by the World War, by reason of the -enormous number of men called to the colors of every country of the -globe, the feeling which I experienced at that time has become part of -the common lot, and before the end of the tragedy, the majority of our -contemporaries will have experienced it to a greater or less degree. - -My order to report for duty directed me to go to Caen. It is a lovely -town in Normandy, rich in superb monuments, of which one, “Abbaye aux -Hommes,” is an almost unequalled marvel of twelfth-century architecture. - -I arrived in the evening, after a fatiguing journey in a train packed -with mobilized men, who had already dissipated all social differences -by the familiarity of their conversation. Immediately on our arrival -we entered the barracks. As there was not nearly enough room for the -throng of recruits, my company received the order to join another in -a temporary camp, whither we hastened at full speed with the hope -of being able to sleep. This new lodging, unfortunately, contained -no conveniences whatever: it was a riding-school, where the young -people of the town learned horsemanship, and which offered us for -bedding nothing but the sawdust mixed with manure which had formed the -riding-track. It must be confessed that one would need to have a large -measure of indifference to be entirely content with this lodging. The -unfortunate civilian clothing, which we were still wearing, suffered -much from the experience. - -Dawn found us all up and moving about, each one hunting, among -the groups, those who, through mutual sympathy, would become more -particularly “comrades,” or, to use a word more expressive, more -characteristically French, “companions,” those with whom one breaks -bread.[B] - -The crowd was composed of the most diverse types, but the greater -number were from Normandy. Most of these Normans were farmers, many of -them well-to-do; a few were dairymen and others horse-dealers. The rest -of the company was Parisian. It is the custom in recruiting the French -army to mix with all the contingents a certain percentage of Parisians, -thus scattering over all of France, and particularly along the eastern -frontier, the influence of the country’s capital. In the French army -the Parisian has the reputation of being an excellent soldier; very -alert, of great endurance, light-hearted, and agreeable, with a keen -sense of humor which sweeps away gloom and dispels melancholy. He is -also a bit hot-headed and does not yield readily to discipline. The -leaders know the admirable results they can obtain by appealing to the -vanity or the sentiment of the Parisian, and that he is capable of -almost any effort is freely admitted. They fear, however, his caustic -humor, his facile raillery and his eternal joking, which sometimes -endanger their prestige. At least, these ideas existed before the war. -Under the fiery tests of these three years, all differences of thought -have melted as in a terrible crucible; and there has been brought -about a national unity so intimate and so absolute, that one would not -know how to make it more perfect. - -Among my new comrades the differences due to birthplace were quickly -noted. By the costume, the accent, or the general manner it was easy -to identify the native of the Calvados, of Havre, or of Paris. Already -these affinities played their unfailing rôle, and in the general -bustle the groups formed according to their origin. In the meantime -every face showed that species of childish joy which always marks the -French when they abandon their individualities and become merged in a -crowd, as in the army. Their naturally carefree spirit comes to the -surface and colors all their thought and action. They cease to feel -themselves responsible for the ordering of their lives, and leave all -to the authority which controls them. This enables them to throw aside -all thought of their immediate needs, and permits them, at whatever -age, to recover a youthfulness of spirit which is a perpetual surprise -to strangers, and which constitutes one of their chief racial charms. -Released from all care, they jest freely on all subjects, and their -spirit of quick repartee, their gifts of observation and of irony -develop amazingly--perhaps to excess. They are just children, big -children, full of life and gayety, who laugh at a joke and delight in -a song; big children who will suffer every fatigue and every pain so -long as they can retain their _esprit_, and whom one may lead into any -danger if one knows how to provoke their good humor. - -War did not in the least change all this. While perhaps most of the -troop had done little more than go through the motions of slumber, and -every one had missed something of his customary comfort, no one seemed -tired when next morning’s reveille came. Each improvised an occupation. -One built a fire between two stones that he might heat water for the -soup, another prepared vegetables, a third helped the quartermasters -in their accounts, and still another volunteered to help arrange the -uniforms which were heaped up in a barn commandeered to serve as a -store-house. In a short time the issuing of uniforms commenced. In -his turn each soldier received his clothing, his equipment and all -the regulation baggage. And such scenes, half comic, half serious, -as were enacted when the men tried on and adjusted their hurriedly -assembled attire! Gradually, however, the long and short, the lean and -rotund, by a series of exchanges, achieved a reasonable success in -the transformation, and the variety of civilian aspect gave way to a -soldierly uniformity. - -At this period, in spite of all the efforts to secure a modification -of the garb of the French soldier, the uniform still consisted of -the celebrated red trousers and the dark-blue coat. This too gaudy -attire was a grave error, soon to be corrected by stern experience. -The red trousers dated from about 1830, and had acquired prestige in -the conquest of Algeria and the wars in Mexico and Italy. To it also -attached all the patriotic sentimentality aroused by the struggle -of 1870. So strongly intrenched was it in popular fancy that it had -triumphed over its most determined foes, and this in spite of the -lessons regarding the visibility of the soldier, furnished by modern -combats such as the Boer War and that between Russia and Japan. In -consequence, the whole French army, excepting certain special troops -such as the Chasseurs, the Marines, and a few others, started for the -front in this picturesque but dangerous costume. On its side, it cannot -be doubted, it had a certain martial pride, a pride so notable that it -was remarked by the Romans at the time of the conquest of Gaul. This -sentiment of sublime valor makes the French prefer the hand-to-hand -combat, in which they excel and where each shows the exact measure of -his bravery, rather than the obscure, intrenched warfare for whose -pattern the Boche has turned to the creeping beasts. - -Therefore we were clothed in this glittering fashion. However, as if -the visibility of our uniform had already disquieted our leaders, they -concealed our red head-gear by a blue muff which completely covered -the cap. It was in this attire that the company formed, that the ranks -aligned and the two hundred and fifty civilians of yesterday became -the two hundred and fifty soldiers of to-day; two hundred and fifty -soldiers of right and justice. In like manner millions of others, -scattered through all the depots and barracks where invaded France was -arming herself, girded their loins and burnished their arms for the -sacred work of defending their homes. - -Although few details are visible to the individual lost in the crowd, I -feel sure that none of us even tried to see beyond the affairs of the -moment. Certain things we could not help knowing: The war had already -reddened our frontiers. Invaded Belgium battled desperately. Liége -resisted. King Albert, his court, and the Belgian Government prepared -Antwerp for a prolonged defense. Our comrades of the covering troops -on one flank had invaded Alsace, and on the other had advanced to -Charleroi. In the meantime, we, the soldiers of future combats, busied -ourselves with preparations for our rôle with hardly a thought for -the struggles already under way, or those of the future; this future -so terrible which awaited us. We were more occupied in choosing our -comrades than in considering the far-reaching possibilities of such -incidents as the escape of the German cruisers _Goeben_ and _Breslau_, -and their subsequent internment at Constantinople. No, all that we -learned from the newspaper dispatches interested us far less than the -organization of our squads and platoons. - -I had the luck to find some good comrades, one the son of a celebrated -novelist, the other an artist of some repute, and we three amused -ourselves in observing our new surroundings and trying to foretell -our next military moves. Our officers engaged our careful attention, -as is natural in such circumstances. Our captain, as the chief of our -company, a brave man, slightly bewildered by the astonishing rôle which -had suddenly fallen to him, was the object of our special interest. We -had the keenest desire for a chief who knew his trade so thoroughly -that he would be able to lead us without trouble in whatever crisis. -The soldier is ever thus. Without saying a word he examines his -officer, measures his qualifications, and then reserves his confidence -until the moment when it is made certain that this confidence is -well placed and he need no longer fear the necessity of revising his -judgment. This judgment which the soldier passes on his chief is -definite, almost without appeal, so rare is it that circumstances will -later cause a modification. - -These early days, it is true, did not give our captain any opportunity -to demonstrate his valor. Burdened with an important physical task, -that of transforming into soldiers more than two hundred men who had -left the barracks years before; of clothing each according to his -measure; of answering all the questions of the higher officers, and -of watching at the same time a hundred little details--he was so busy -that we had relatively little opportunity to study him. We were already -armed, equipped and placed in the ranks before we had caught more than -a glimpse of him; and then suddenly came the order to move the regiment -to C----, one of the most important seaports of France. - -To entrain a regiment of three thousand men with its baggage, its -horses, its wagons, its stores, and its service, has become mere play -for our strategists of to-day. To call it a heavy task would make one -smile, for it now appears so simple. At the period of which I speak, -the month of August, 1914, when our defense was hardly organized and -when the enemy rushed on, driving before him the terrified populace, it -was not, by long odds, the simple problem of to-day. The railroads were -congested, there was a shortage of cars, and orders were not always -certain of prompt execution. - -Nevertheless, in spite of these circumstances, the regiment entrained, -departed, reached its destination without losing a minute or a man. -We reached our assigned place at the scheduled time, just as if this -tour de force had been planned for a long time or had been made easy by -habit. - -We arrived thus in our garrison without knowing each other, but none -the less completely equipped and accoutred, although less than four -days had elapsed since the mobilization call had been sent to these -three thousand men, most of whom had forgotten all but the rudiments -of their military training. This miracle of execution was reproduced -throughout our territory, and after three years of war there has not -arisen a single voice to claim that the French mobilization failed -in any detail, or that in either plan or execution it fell short of -perfection. - -This was in reality a remarkable achievement. It must be here noted -that France was prepared for the war neither in spirit nor in -material. Most of our citizens were pacifists, who refused even to -acknowledge the possibility of a war. Yet, when confronted by the -inevitable, each brought to the task an abundant good-will and an -enthusiastic patriotism which gave speed and efficiency to each act -of the mobilization. This was in truth the first step, the beginning -of the “Miracle of the Marne.” It was indeed a miracle, this splendid -co-ordination of good-will and eager effort into an organization, -enormous but almost improvised, which worked without clash or creaking, -with an almost mathematical ease that could not have been assured to a -method prepared and perfected by the most careful study. - -After all, we were not destined to remain long in our new post. In -fact, we were hardly installed when an order came which placed us -once more on the train, and sent us at last to the frontier. We were -delighted. - -Imagine, for the moment, these three thousand men recently armed, -barely organized into squads and led by officers as yet unknown, -starting on their way to meet the enemy. It was for them a veritable -_début_. They were still unaware of the tricks and brutality of the -German. Very few of us had heard more than the vaguest discussion -of the theories of Bernhardi and the Teuton “Kriegspiel.” We knew -little of what was happening in Belgium, of the desperate efforts of -the heroic defenders of Liége, or of the atrocities committed by the -invaders. There was no time to study and explain the horrors of this -war which threatened to submerge us; no time to instruct the soldiers; -no time even to wait for munitions. Speed was necessary. We must hasten -to offer our bodies, in the effort to check the black wave which -advanced so ominously. - -It was not a war which came. It was an inundation. The numberless -German host, rolling on like a wave of mud, had already covered -Belgium, submerged Luxembourg and filled the valleys of Lorraine. No -one knew if there would be time to check it. The army of the front -was fighting, no one knew just where. The English army was not yet -ready, the Belgian army, that heroic handful was giving way, and the -French mobilization was hardly finished. And here we were, rolling on -at full speed along the lines of the Eastern Railway, to reach as soon -as possible the frontier of the Aisne, with two hundred rounds of -ammunition in our pouches and two days’ rations in our sacks. - -We went where we were sent, passing trains of terror-stricken refugees; -speeding without stop along the sentinel-guarded way; passing Paris, -then Laon, and finally arriving in the middle of the night in a -darkened city; a terror-torn city, whose people gathered at the station -to receive us as liberators, acclaiming our uniform as if it were the -presage of victory, as if it betokened a sure defense, capable of -rolling back the threatening enemy and giving deliverance from danger. - -Poor people: I see them still in the touching warmth of their welcome. -I see them still, as they crowded about to offer us refreshing drinks -or bread and eggs, and following us clear to the fort which we were to -defend, and which they believed would protect the city from all attacks. - -Here we were at last, at our point of rendezvous with that grim -monster: War. The men of the regiment began to look about, and -especially I and my two friends, to whom I was already bound in one of -those quick soldierly friendships. We were ready to suffer together, -to share our miseries, and to give an example to others. Because of -our social position and education and our superior training, we felt -capable of indicating and leading in the path of obedience. However, -neither of my friends was able to follow the campaign to the end. A -weakness of constitution ended the military career of one, while the -other suffered from an old injury to his legs. At this early moment -neither wished to think of his own sufferings. They dreamed only of -France and the need she had for all they possessed of strength and -courage. In spite of their good-will and stoutness of heart, neither -of them was able to endure the strain of military life for any -considerable period. A soldier should be a man of robust physique and -unfailing morale. He should be able to withstand heat and cold, hunger -and thirst, nights without sleep and the dull agony of weariness. He -should have a heart of stone in a body of steel. The will alone is -not enough to sustain the body when worn by fatigue, when tortured by -hunger, when one must march instead of sleep, or fight instead of eat. - -All these things I knew well. I had served in war-time. I had marched -on an empty stomach when drenched by rain or burned by the sun. I had -drunk polluted water and eaten the bodies of animals. I had fought. I -knew the surprises and hazards of war; hours on guard when the eyes -would not stay open; hours at attention when the body groaned. I knew -the bark of the cannon, the whistle of bullets, and the cries of the -dying. I knew of long marches in sticky mud, and of atrocious work in -the midst of pollution. I was a veteran of veterans, earning my stripes -by many years of service, and therefore ready for any eventualities. My -gallant comrades knew little of all this. Instinctively they looked to -me for instruction, and placed on me a reliance warranted by my genuine -desire to help them, as well as my long military experience. - -Up to this time, however, the war had not shown us its hideous face. -Our immediate task consisted of placing in a state of defense an old, -dismantled fort here on the edge of French territory, and our orders -were to hold it as long as possible, even to death. We were only a -handful of men assigned to this heavy task, of which, it is true, we -did not realize the importance. - -Under the orders of our commander we hurriedly cut down the trees which -had overgrown the glacis, made entanglements of branches, and helped -the artillerymen to furnish and protect their casemates. Oh, the folly -of this moment, superhuman and heroic! We had only a dozen cannon of -antiquated model to defend a defile of the first importance, and there -was neither reserve nor second line to support our effort. - -Before us developed the Belgian campaign. The battle of Charleroi was -under way. In the evening, after supper, when we went down to visit the -town and find recreation, if possible, we heard the inhabitants discuss -the news in the papers as tranquilly as if these events, happening only -ten leagues from their door, were taking place in the antipodes, and as -if nothing could possibly endanger them and their interests. - -Trains bearing the wounded passed constantly through the station. -Those whose condition was so serious that they could not stand a -longer journey were removed from the trains and taken to the hastily -improvised hospitals. This we saw daily, and so did the people of the -town. We saw Zouaves, horsemen, and footsoldiers return, blood-covered, -from the battle; frightfully wounded men on stretchers, who still had -the spirit to smile at the onlookers, or even to raise themselves to -salute. - -Still, this town, so close to the battle, so warned of its horrors, -remained tranquil and believed itself safe. Every day endless motor -convoys passed through on the way to the front, bearing munitions and -food without disturbing this calm life. Shops were open as usual, -the cafés were filled, the municipal and governmental services were -undisturbed in their operation, and the young women still pursued the -cheerful routine of their life, without dreaming of the coming of the -Uhlans and the infamy the German brutes would inflict. - -Thus passed the days. We soldiers organized our habitation, placed the -rifle-pits in condition, repaired the drawbridges and redressed the -parades. - -Ah! how little we knew of fortification, at this period, so recent and -already so distant! How little we had foreseen the manner of war to -which the Germans were introducing us. We knew so little of it that we -did not even have a suspicion. We expected to fight, certainly, but we -had in mind a style of combat, desperate perhaps, but straightforward, -in which cannon replied to cannon, rifle to rifle, and where we -bravely opposed our bodies to those of the enemy. We were confident. -We reassured any timorous ones among the townspeople, saying: “Fear -nothing. We are here.” - -We were stupefied, civilian and soldier alike, when the French army -suddenly gave way and rolled back upon us. - -In the ordinary acceptation of the term this was a retreat. The -regiments, conquered by numbers, by novel tactics, and by new engines -of war, drew back from the plains of Charleroi. I saw them pass, -still in good order, just below the fort, our fort where the work of -preparation continued. Each soldier was in his rank, each carriage in -its place. It was at once magnificent and surprising. We questioned -these men with the utmost respect, for we envied them. They came from -battle, they knew what fighting was like, and we could see a new -flash in their eyes. They were tired but happy. They were covered with -dust and harassed by fatigue, but proud of having survived that they -might once more defend their native land. Most of them could tell -us but little, for they had only the most confused notion of what -had happened. They were witnesses, but they had not seen clearly. A -formidable artillery fire had mown down their comrades without their -seeing an enemy or even knowing definitely where the Germans were. -They had advanced and taken the formation of combat, when, suddenly, -the storm broke upon them and forced them to retreat. They were so -astonished at what had befallen them, that one could see in their -faces, almost in the wrinkles of their garments, the mark of the -thunderbolt. - -They marched in extended formation and in excellent order, remaining -soldiers in spite of the hard blows they had borne. They kept their -distances, their rifles on their shoulders, their platoons at the -prescribed intervals, the battalions following each other as in -manœuvre and bringing their pieces of artillery. - -It was an uninterrupted procession, an even wave, which rolled along -the road without cessation. Some stragglers entered the town and they -were anxiously questioned. They could tell only of their exhaustion -and of small details of the fight, describing the corner of a field, -the margin of a wood, the bank of a river: the precise spot where the -individual had entered the zone of fire and had seen his neighbors -fall. This one had marched up a hill, but couldn’t see anything when -he got there; another said his company had tramped along singing, when -suddenly the machine-guns broke loose and his friends fell all about -him; a third told of joining the sharpshooters, of throwing himself on -the ground and, “My! how it did rain.” One tall chap recalled that in -the evening his company had withdrawn to a farmhouse where they paused -for a bite to eat, after which they made a détour. Such were the scraps -of information they gave, minute details which told nothing. - -All these stories were a jumble. None of these combatants had truly -seen the war. Each knew only what had happened to himself, and even -that he could not explain. These men seemed to have just awakened from -a nightmare, and their disjointed words told us nothing. We, who -listened with such tense interest, were tortured with the desire to -know if the tide of battle was bringing nearer the chance to prove our -valor. - -We were eager for the fray. All our forces, physical, mental, and -spiritual, hungered for the combat. Our tasks of the hour were -insipid. This incessant felling of trees, this clearing away of brush, -this myriad of fussy efforts put forth for the refurbishing of our -antiquated fortress, held us in leash until the place seemed like a -suffocating tomb, whose cave-like quarters we would never leave. - -In the town the people grew restless as the French armies fell back. -They knew no more than we of the outcome of the battle of Charleroi, -but as they saw the endless procession of convoys, of soldiers and of -fugitive civilians, they began to fear the worst. - -The German drive increased in power. Now, Belgian soldiers began to be -mixed in the swift stream of the fleeing. Hussars, guides, infantry, -and linesmen, clad in picturesque uniforms, copied from the first -French empire, poured by in disorder. Some were mounted on carts; -others afoot, were leading their foundered horses; and these haggard, -mud-covered men brought an air of defeat. Their faces, sunken from -hunger and distorted from lack of sleep, told a story that sowed terror -and kindled a panic. - -The invasion presented itself at the gates of the town with an -unforgettable cortège. Fear-stricken men deserted their fields, taking -with them such of their possessions as could most quickly be gathered -together. All means of transport were employed. Vehicles of all types -and ages were piled high with shapeless bundles of bedding and of -clothing of women and children. Some of the unfortunates were pushing -perambulators, on which they had heaped such cooking-utensils as they -had hurriedly gathered up. Trembling old men guided the steps of their -almost helpless wives. Many had left their tranquil homes in such haste -that they had not taken time even to fully clothe themselves. With -weeping eyes, quivering lips, and bleeding feet they stumbled on. One -heard only words of terror: - -“They kill every one.” - -“They have killed my mother.” - -“They have murdered my husband.” - -“They are burning the houses and shooting the people as they try to -escape.” - -Can you imagine such a sight? And this never for an instant ceased. -Three roads joined each other at the edge of the town, and each brought -from a different direction its tales of horror. Along one came the -families driven from the colliery shafts, another brought the fishermen -from the Scheldt, and the third the bourgeoisie from Mons and Brussels. -All marched pell-mell along with the troops, slept at the roadside, -and ate when some interruption on the congested route offered the -opportunity. All fled straight on, not knowing whither. - -I found reproduced in this lamentable exodus certain spectacles which I -had witnessed years before, but under vastly different circumstances. -Yes! I had seen things just like this, but on a far-away continent -where the fugitives were not men of my own race. I had seen cities -taken by assault and whole populations fleeing in terror. I had seen -houses in flames and corpses rotting in the fields. I had seen all -the drama and horror of an invasion and had looked on with infinite -pity. However, nothing in all that had touched me as did the present. -Those flights had not taken place in my own country. They were not my -compatriots who had been harried like so many animals, and driven from -their homes like frightened beasts, to be tracked in the forests or -hunted across the plains. They were, nevertheless, poor, unfortunate -humans. Even in their panic and distress they were still a little -grotesque, owing to their strange manners and costumes. Their natural -abjection had in it nothing of similarity to the fierce grief of these -Europeans, surprised in a time of peace and in no way prepared to -endure submission. - -Once when I saw an exhausted old man fall at the roadside, near our -fort, and heard him beg his companions to abandon him that they might -make better speed, I recalled a scene indelibly graved on my memory. It -was in China. We were moving toward Pekin in August, 1900. We pushed -back before us the Boxer insurgents, whom we, with the Japanese and the -Russians, had routed at Pei-Tsang. One evening when hunger tortured -us, some companions and myself started out in search of food. We -reached a farm isolated in the midst of a rice-swamp, and we entered, -just as armed men, conquerors, may enter anywhere. There was not a -soul in the numerous buildings of the extensive plantation--or so it -seemed at first. Finally, I went alone into one of the houses, and -there came face to face with a very old woman, shrivelled and bent, -with straggling wisps of hair, grimacing and repulsive. She instantly -thought that her last hour had come. I had no bad intentions, but -she could read my white face no better than I could have read her -yellow countenance had our positions been reversed. She was overcome -with fear, and her fright caused such facial contortions that I had a -feeling of deepest pity for her. I tried without success to reassure -her. Each of my gestures seemed to her a threat of death. She crouched -before me, supplicating with most piteous cries and lamentations, until -I, finding no gestures that would explain what I wanted, left the room. -She followed me as I withdrew, bending to kiss each footprint as if to -express her gratitude for the sparing of her life. - -At that time I had thought of what my own grandmother would feel were -she suddenly confronted by a German soldier in her own home in France. -My imagination had formed such a vivid picture that I remembered it -fourteen years later when the real scene passed before my eyes. - -Ah! Free men of a free country! Men whose homes are safe from invasion, -men who need not dread the conflagration leaping nearer and nearer, -or the lust of your neighbor--fortunate men, imagine these villages -suddenly abandoned; these families in flight; these old men stumbling -on the stones of the road; these young girls saving their honor; these -children subjected to the hardships and dangers of such an ordeal! - -Search your mind for a picture which may aid you to visualize such a -spectacle. For no pen, no brush, not even a cinematograph could depict -that terrified mob, that throng pushing on in the rain and the wind; -the flight of a people before another people, the flight of the weak -and innocent before the strong and guilty. - - - - -III - -THE MARNE - - -As the result of tenacity and strenuous effort, our work of defense -progressed. We had been able to build a smooth, sloping bank all around -the fort, to place entanglements before the principal entrance, and -to arrange such cannon as we had at our disposal. We put iron-bars in -front of the windows to break the impact of shells, and baskets filled -with sand at passage entrances. We had sufficient provision to last -a month. We built a country oven that we might bake bread and not be -reduced by famine. - -We were tired, but confident, the enemy might come now. Each of us knew -the spot he should occupy on the rampart, and we had not the least -doubt of our power of resistance. The commander redoubled the exercises -and drills, and each day notices were posted near the guard-house -saying that we must hold the fort unto death, that surrender was -absolutely forbidden. As for the men, we were equally determined to -offer resistance to the end. - -In the meantime, we came to know each other better day by day, and -genuine sympathies grew into solid friendships. In addition to my -two friends of the first hour, I found myself associated with some -excellent comrades. There was Yo, a splendid young Norman, strong as a -giant, a carpenter by trade. He was persistently good-natured, and knew -a thousand amusing stories. He had an anecdote or witticism ready for -all occasions. Then there was Amelus, whom we dubbed “Angelus.” With -his little, close-set eyes, small features, narrow shoulders, he was -as nearly as possible the physical type of a Paris gamin. He possessed -also the gamin’s quick repartee and unalterable good humor. - -This man, who was killed later, deserves special mention. He was an -anti-militarist. That is to say, before the war he constantly asserted, -as a point of honor, in season and out of season, his hatred of the -whole military business; and detested, without clearly knowing why, -every one who wore an army uniform. When I first met him, the war -had not yet changed his habit. He indulged freely in vituperation of -the officers, from the highest to the lowest; but this veneer covered -a truly patriotic spirit, for whenever an officer asked a service -he instantly offered himself. He volunteered for every rough job, -and although he was not strong nor of robust health, he managed to -accomplish the hardest kinds of labor, and would have died of the -effort swearing that he “wished to know nothing about it, and no one -need expect anything of him.” - -This type of man was very numerous in France before 1914, and -experience has proved that much could be counted on from them, whenever -the occasion arose to put them to the test. - -Such as he was, with his comic fury, with his perpetual tirades against -the officers, and still very evident good-will, he amused us greatly. -One heard often such colloquies as this: - -“A man wanted to cut down trees!” - -“Take me!” cried Amelus. - -“A volunteer to carry rails!” - -“Here I am!” - -Once accepted, bent under the heaviest burdens, he poured out his -heart; he cursed his ill fortune, he pitied himself, he growled and -groaned. That aroused the irony of Yo. There was a continual verbal -tussle between the two men, the one groaning and the other responding -with raillery, which spread joy among us all. - -Yes, we laughed. The tragic events which were closing in upon us, which -were drawing nearer irresistibly, did not yet touch us sufficiently to -frighten us much. We laughed at everything and at nothing. We laughed -like healthy young men without a care, men who have no dread of the -morrow, and who know that, whatever may happen, the soup will be boiled -and the bread will come from the oven when it is needed. We had not yet -become really grave, certainly no one had suffered, when, our task of -preparing the fort completed, we went to the embankment and witnessed -the ghastly procession of fugitives. That froze the heart of each of -us. So many old men, women, and children, thrown out at random, thrown -out to the fierce hazard of flight, stripped of all their possessions! -The sight was distressing, and the visible horror of their situation -brought tears to the eyes of the most stolid. - -The hours passed rapidly. The last French troops fell back, the town -was evacuated. Trains packed to the last inch carried away every -one who could find room. When we went out in the evening, we found -closed the shops which had been open the day before. Their owners were -hastening to find shelter and safety. - -The enemy was approaching. We felt it by a hundred indications, but we -did not suspect how close he had come. - -He arrived like a whirlwind. One evening we were told to remain in the -fort, to take our places for the combat, to prepare cannon, cartridges, -and shells. During the day an aeroplane had flown over the fort, and -it was a German machine. Disquieting news preceded the invader. It was -brought by some straggling soldiers: men panting, miserable, dying of -thirst and hunger, who had been lost in the woods, and had covered -twenty leagues to make their escape. They recounted things almost -unbelievable. They had seen Belgian villages as flaming torches, and -they told their experiences little by little, with a remnant of horror -in their eyes, and an expression of bravery on their faces. We gave -them drink. They scarcely stopped their march, but took the bottles or -glasses offered, and emptied them while continuing on their way. The -fear of being taken bit at their heels. “Save yourselves!” they cried -to the women, “they are coming!” - -After they were gone, the people gathered in large groups, seeking -further information on the highroad. The road was clouded with dust -and alive with movement, where other fugitives, more hurried than -the first, pushed their way, and threw out, in passing, bits of news -still more alarming. Haggard peasants explained that the Germans were -pillaging houses, ravaging everything. From these strange reports one -would have believed himself transported into another age, carried back -to the period of the great migrations of peoples. - -“They have taken away my daughter,” wailed a woman in tears, “and have -set fire to the farmhouse.” - -“They shot my husband!” cried another, “because he had no wine to give -them.” - -The terror of the populace increased and spread. Mothers went to their -houses, gathered together some clothes and their daughters, then -followed the throng of fugitives. Old men started out on foot. The -threatening flail swept the country, even before it was seen, preceded -by a groan of agony and of fear as the thunder-storm is preceded by the -wind. - -And we soldiers, with no exact knowledge of the situation, we awaited -orders and completed our preparations for resistance. We lifted the -drawbridges, we put in place the ladders, the tubs of water to put out -fire, the tools to clear crushed roofs and arches. We never thought -of flight. We had a sort of pride in remaining at the last stand, -in protecting the retreat of all the others, and we strove to give -encouragement to the civilians departing. But we were eager for news, -and seized upon all rumors. - -About four o’clock in the afternoon a rumor passed like a gust of wind. -Some outposts came running: “They are here!” They told of the attack -on their position five kilometres away. Five of their number had been -killed, six taken prisoner by the Germans. This time the invasion -was rolling upon us. We almost touched it. We felt the hot breath of -battle, we were going to fight, we were going to offer resistance. - -This was an impression more than a certainty. Explosions could be heard -in the distance: the engineers were blowing up bridges and railroads, -in order to create obstacles and retard the advance of the enemy. The -foe seemed to arrive everywhere at the same time. He was discerned -on the right and on the left, at each cross-road, advancing in deep -columns, and preceded by a guard of cavalry, the terrible Uhlans, who -were plundering everything in their way. - -We felt, rather than saw, the nearness of the invaders. We could do -nothing but wait. In spite of the efforts exerted by the officers to -quiet the men, there was among them an uncontrollable restlessness: -inaction was intolerable. - -It was a great relief to be able to accept, with several comrades, -a piece of work outside the fort. This had to do with blowing up a -viaduct. We set out, much envied by those left behind. We advanced -with customary precaution, following one point of light carried by -an advance-guard. Naturally, this position was taken by Amelus, the -habitual volunteer, followed by Yo, the giant, whose muscular force -inspired confidence in every one. - -We had not far to go. At the railway-station, we learned that the last -train had just left, taking away the portable property of the station, -and all the people who could pack themselves into the coaches. There -was no longer, then, any assurance of rapid communication with the -rear. The struggle was really commencing. - -Our destination was scarcely two kilometres away. It was a -railway-viaduct crossing a valley. We arrived quickly. The blast of -powder was prepared in an arch by the engineers; our part was only to -watch and protect the operation. A sharp detonation, an enormous cloud -of smoke, the whole mass swaying, splitting, falling, the reverberating -echo, and the route is severed. The trains of the invasion will be -compelled to stop: there is an abyss to cross, which will make the -assailant hesitate perhaps an hour. Although our work was swiftly -accomplished, it seemed that it must be effective. We had nothing to do -but regain our fort and await events. - -However, it is late when we arrive. Night has fallen. On our left, an -immense glow stains with blood the leaden sky: it is Fourmies which -is burning, fired by the enemy. It is a French town which is the prey -of flames, the first one we have seen thus consumed before our eyes, -in the horror of darkness; while on the highroad rolls constantly the -flood of refugees, carts, wagons, carriages, all sorts of conveyances -of town and country, jumbled together with bicycles and pedestrians, -the turbulent throng of a province in flight, of a people driven by a -horde. - -In subtle ways the fort itself has changed character. It breathes war. -Sand-bags are placed about the walls, sentinels watch on the ramparts, -orders are given and received under the arches. Our comrades ask -anxiously: “What have you seen?” We give an account of our exploit, -while eating a hurried bite, then we imitate our comrades, and, -following the order received, we take up our sacks and prepare all our -accoutrement. - -There is still some joking, at this instant. Yo attempts some of -his raillery, Amelus once more pours vituperation on the army, but -their pleasantries fall without an echo. We are grave. The unknown -oppresses us. We are attentive, and await the slightest order of our -superiors. The commandant calls the officers together. The conference -is prolonged, and we know nothing precise in the half-light of our -fortress chambers. What is going on? Will we be attacked this evening? -Will the defense be long? We exchange opinions and assurances: “There -are two hundred rounds of ammunition apiece!” - -Two hundred rounds! That means how many hours of fighting? Shall we be -reinforced? Are there troops in the rear? And in front? No one knows. -Those who affirm that there are troops in front of us meet a slight -credence, which gives way immediately to doubt and then to a certainty -to the contrary. Numberless contradictory pieces of information clash -together, mingle, intercross: - -“There is fighting at Maubeuge.” - -“The enemy is withdrawing on the Meuse!” - -“Yes, he has lost all his cannon.” - -“But he is advancing on us here!” - -All these statements jostled each other in the general uncertainty. -Suddenly, at the door of the chamber, I saw our lieutenant, a splendid -soldier, upright and frank. He was speaking to one of my comrades. -Scenting a special mission, I approach them. I am not mistaken. -“Silence!” says the officer, “I need six resolute men, and no noise.” - -“Take me, lieutenant,” I ask. - -“If you wish.” - -“And me, too,” begs Amelus. - -“All right, you too, and Yo. Meet me immediately in the courtyard, with -your knapsacks.” - -We meet in a few minutes. My friend Berthet rushes in. “Wont you take -me, too?” “Certainly. Come quickly.” - -And now we are outside the fort, with knapsack and gun. We are -delighted with this godsend, without knowing what it is all about: at -least we are moving about, doing something, and that is the main thing. - -“Be careful,” commands the lieutenant, “to the right! Forward, march!” - -We leave by the postern gate. We are on the embankment. The night is -dark, the heavens are black except where the blood-red reflection of -burning towns marks the path of the Germans. In silence we make our way -down the steep slope of the fort. - -“Halt! Load!” - -We fill the magazines of our rifles. Ten paces farther on we meet -the last sentinels. The password is given, we proceed. We go toward -the town, as far as the highroad, where the flight of the distracted -populace continues. Amidst a tangle of conveyances, pedestrians slip -through mysteriously and hurry by. They jostle us, then make way for -us in the throng. At last we stop. The town is only a hundred metres -distant, without illumination, but much alive, full of the hubbub of -the last departing civilians. - -“Listen,” says the lieutenant, “this is your errand: a group of Uhlans -has been reported about eight hundred metres from here. At this -moment they must be occupying the civilian hospital. They must not be -permitted to pass. Two men will hide themselves here, two others there. -The others will guard the cross-road. In case you sight them, give -them your magazine and fall back on the fort to give the alarm. Do you -understand? Go to it!” - -In such moments, one’s intelligence is abnormally active: one -understands instantly, and each man seems to take his own particular -rôle by instinct. I advance with Berthet to take the most forward post: -it is where adventure is most likely. The others leave us, to take -their own positions. So there we are, he and I, alone as sentinels, at -the edge of the highroad--the road which is the path of the invasion, -where rolls unceasingly as a torrent the stream of fugitives. - -“You tell me what to do,” says Berthet, “I will take your orders.” “It -is very simple,” I respond, “one knee on the ground. In the deep grass -you will not be seen. For myself, I am going onto the road itself. I -will stop any one who looks suspicious. Don’t worry, and don’t let -your gun go off unless you hear me fire.” “Very well.” “Oh, another -thing! If we are attacked, we will fire, then run for the fort without -following the road. Our companions will fire, and we must cut across -the fields. Do you agree?” “Yes.” - -I leave him, to take my post just at the edge of the road, eyes and -ears on the alert, finger on the trigger. A host of memories crowd my -brain. How often in other days have I stood guard in just this manner! -I recall similar hours which I experienced in China, at Tonkin, in the -Sahara. I feel once more the intense poetry which is inspired by such -a vigil: a poetry incomparable to any other; a poetry in which alert -action is mingled with the strangeness of night, with the thousand -noises of a stirring populace, with the imminence of danger, with -visions crowding up from the past, with all that surrounds us and all -that flees from us. Less than a fortnight ago, at this hour, I used -to write my daily article. My young wife, in our dainty dining-room, -was rocking the baby to sleep. Or I was correcting proof on my -forthcoming book, and she came to sit near me, her fingers busy with -some fine needlework. She always placed on my desk the flowers from -the dinner-table, and I thanked her for being so good, so pretty, so -loving and thoughtful, by a swift stolen kiss on her rosy finger-tips. -I read to her the last page I had written. She smiled and approved. -Our confidence was complete. She had faith in my ability, I rejoiced to -know that she was mine. We were so happy---- - -To-day, with loaded gun, with every nerve strained, I lie in wait for -an advancing enemy. My wife is far away. She has shelter, at least. -Without doubt she dreams of me, as I dream of her, and she trembles -and she fears the future, the danger, death. My brothers--where -are they?--and their wives, and our parents, and all my dear ones, -like myself, like all of France, thrown into war, into danger, into -suffering. And all the children, and all the helpless women, and old -men, all counting on us, on our stoutness of heart, to defend and to -save them. - -My meditations did not in the least interfere with my watchfulness. -From time to time I stopped a passer-by. - -“Halt there!” - -“We are French.” - -“Advance slowly, one by one.” - -The poor creatures were terrified and bewildered. - -“We are trying to escape!” - -“Pass on.” - -After a bit I return to see Berthet. - -“Anything new?” “No, nothing.” “Supposing you look around more at the -left.” “All right.” - -I resume my place. All at once, I hear the clatter of horses’ hoofs. -Berthet rejoins me. “Do you hear that?” “Yes. It must be they. Don’t -forget. Fire, then run across fields.” - -The cavalcade approaches, is clearly audible. With eyes strained, I can -still see nothing in the blackness. Suddenly I catch the glitter of -helmets. - -“Halt, there!” - -“Gendarmes!” cries a voice, “don’t shoot!” French gendarmes, in retreat! - -“Advance slowly, one by one.” - -The troop halts. One horseman advances, stops at ten paces from my -bayonet. - -“I am a brigadier of the gendarmes, brigade of Avor. I have not the -password.” - -The voice is indeed French. I recognize the uniform--but I still fear a -possible trap. - -“Command your men to pass, one by one.” - -The order is executed without reply. Some ten men file by. - -“Look out for yourselves,” says the last horseman, “the Uhlans are at -our heels.” - -“Thanks for the information. Tell that to the officer whom you will -meet about a hundred metres from here.” “Good luck to you.” - -_Ouf!_ Berthet and I both grow hot. The watching brings us together, we -remain together. One feels stronger with company. - - * * * * * - -It begins to rain--only a mist at first, then a steady rain. The poor -fugitives tramp along, miserable, driven ghosts, weird figures in the -blackness of the night. Some of them give scraps of information in -passing. - -“They are at the chapel.” - -“They are arriving at Saint Michel.” - -“There are twenty Uhlans at the _mairie_.” - -Our lieutenant makes his round. “Nothing new?” “Nothing, sir.” “Very -well, I am going to look about, as far as the town. I will be back in -about fifteen minutes.” “Very well, sir.” - -He disappears, swallowed up in the darkness. We wait. It rains harder -and harder. The water runs in rivulets on our shoulders, trickles down -our necks, soaks our shirts. From time to time we shake ourselves like -wet spaniels. There is nothing to do but wait. It would not do to -seek shelter. Besides, there is no shelter. When one is a sentinel in -full campaign, one must accept the weather as it comes. If it is fine, -so much the better; if it is frightful, too bad! It is impossible to -provide comforts, or conveniences. If the sun burns you or the rain -soaks you, if the heat roasts you or the cold freezes you, it is all -the same. The strong resist it, the weak succumb: so much the worse! -One is there to suffer, to endure, to hold his position. If one falls, -his place is filled. So long as there are men, the barrier is raised -and put in opposition to the enemy. “_C’est la guerre._” That is war: -a condition in which only the robust man may survive; where everything -unites madly to destroy, to obliterate him, where he must fight at the -same time his adversaries and the elements which seem to play with him -as the breeze plays with the leaf on the tree. - -However, the night was advancing. The Great Bear, intermittently -visible between the clouds, had already gone down in the sky, and we -were still there. The crowd still surged on, as dense as ever. The -people came from every quarter. Very few were gathered into groups. -Here and there some worn-out soldiers were seen, who asked information -and vanished in haste. In the background of the dark picture of the -night were the burning villages and towns, but their flames were -subsiding, their ruddy glow was waning. The fires seemed to have -reached the end of their food, exhausted by a night of violence. Sudden -puffs of sparks rising with the smoke already foretold their extinction. - -Berthet, my comrade, was pale in the twilight dawn. “You have had -enough of it?” I say to him. “Oh! no,” he responds, “it is nothing but -nervousness.” - -The most critical moment was approaching: the dawning of day, that -troubled moment when fatigue crushes the shoulders of the most valiant, -when the vision confuses distances and blurs objects, when all one’s -surroundings take on a strange, uncanny appearance. Dawn, lustreless -and gray, the dawn of a day of rain, rising sulkily, drippingly, coming -pale and wan to meet men broken by an anxious vigil, is not a pleasing -fairy, is not the divine Aurora with fingers of light; and yet, it -brings solace. With its coming the vision is extended; it pierces the -fog, identifies the near-by hedge, the twisted birch, the neighboring -knoll of ground. Day breaks. The shadows disappear, objects regain -their natural aspect, and the terrors created by the night vanish. - -Thus it was with us. I was pleased with Berthet. He had carried -himself well, and I told him so. That pleased him. He was a boy whose -self-esteem was well developed, who could impose upon a rather weak -body decisions made by his will. - -“I was afraid of only one thing,” he said, “and that was that I might -be afraid.” I smiled and answered: “But you will be afraid. It is only -fools who know not fear, or deny it. Every one knows fear. Even the -bravest of the brave, Maréchal Ney himself, knew it well.” - -At this moment our lieutenant returned from his hazardous expedition, -without having observed anything remarkable, and there was nothing -for us to do but wait for other sentries to relieve us, or for orders -specifying a new mission. - -Nothing of the sort came, at first. If we had been abandoned in a -desert, our solitude could not have been more complete. As far as the -eye could see, we could not detect a living thing. There were no more -fugitives. We two were guarding a bare highroad where neither man nor -beast appeared. - -At last, some one was seen coming from the fort. It was a comrade -bringing coffee and news. While we were absorbing with delight the -hot drink which seemed to make renewed life throb in our veins, he -recounted the events which had taken place behind us, and in some -manner under our protection. - -“The boys,” he said, “have left. The fort will be blown up. It seems -that we have waited too long already. The Germans have gone by, now. We -are surrounded. No one knows how those animals slip by, but there is -fighting all around us.” - -“No! Is that true?” - -“Truest thing you know. Last night we put mines in the powder-magazine. -There are eight metres of fuse. We will light it on leaving. You are -going to see some fireworks.” - -We did not know what to say, at first. We could not doubt the accuracy -of the information supplied by our comrade, but Berthet’s surprise -was extreme. The most difficult thing, in war, is to be willing to -comprehend nothing of what surrounds you near at hand, and to content -yourself to live as does an animal. Always one tries to reason, to -use logic, and nothing is further removed from reason and logic than -important events in which one is plunged, but of which one sees but an -infinitesimal part, too small to form even an approximate idea of the -whole. - -“How,” says Berthet, “could the enemy pass by in force, without using -this road?” I shook my head. “Who knows?” “I don’t know how it was -done,” declared our comrade, “but they have passed us. As proof, -three kilometres from here they took by surprise a squad asleep in a -farmhouse. The Uhlans arrived without any one suspecting, and made them -all prisoners.” - -A sharp whistle cut short our reflections. Our lieutenant called us. -We joined him and found, at the turn of the road, the entire garrison, -ready for departure. They were only awaiting the signal from the -commandant. The ranks were formed, the captains were mounted on their -horses, the lieutenants and the sergeants were overseeing the last -preparations. - -We took our places in silence, not having slept at all, and having had -the sack buckled on our shoulders for twelve hours in the rain. The -rain had not ceased. The troop was enveloped in it as in a gray veil, -and the wet faces of the men expressed dejection. Their moustaches -drooped, their caps were pulled down, their looks were sullen. Even Yo -himself, with his unvarying good humor, could not find another word -with which to revive the spirits of the men. Only Amelus could be heard -growling somewhat more vigorously than usual. - -Weather has an enormous effect on the morale of troops, as on all -human agglomerations. We were all more or less touched by the malign -influence of the rain. No jest flashed from the ranks as is usual in a -French troop, where bantering springs from the lip involuntarily, where -chaffing is as natural as the air one breathes, as necessary as bread. -A regiment remains alert and strong so long as this spirit of optimism -remains; but at the moment of which I speak, when we were drenched -with rain, when we saw our country invaded, when we knew ourselves -to be surrounded by the enemy, we were morose and feared the worst. -However, it was only necessary that there should be an unexpected peal -of laughter to bring light to every face, and that was what happened -soon after we were given the order to march. - -Indeed, the column was scarcely in motion, when the irrepressible -Yo burst forth with a raucous tone in one of the most ancient songs -of the march, one of those which are transmitted from generation to -generation. Instantly, another voice responded, then another, then a -chorus. And then, in the downpour of rain, on a road so water-soaked -that one sunk to the ankle at each step, it was no longer a surrounded -regiment in flight, but a troop sprightly, gay, and confident and, -like their Gallic ancestors, having nothing to fear but this: that the -weeping heavens might really fall on their heads. - -We had not been on the march an hour when a terrific explosion was -heard, reverberating overhead. It was the mined fort which was -blowing up. All the work of those last days was flying into the air -in a re-echoing crash of bricks, ironwork, shells, and guns. Our -labor was wiped out. Nevertheless, it had not been in vain. Thanks to -its existence, the German army which had faced us had been retarded -twenty-four hours in its advance. Indeed, their advance-guards had -encountered that garrisoned fort, and had been obliged to await the -arrival of artillery sufficient to reduce and take it. This delay had -permitted the last French troops to retreat without trouble. They -were safe when the fort, henceforth useless, blew up. It left nothing -for the hand of the enemy, and its mission was accomplished. A battle -would have added to our work nothing but blood. Our chiefs were wise in -sparing that. - -It was not until later that we knew all this. At that moment we did -not look so far. We pursued our way singing, in a deluge of rain, -overtaking distracted fugitives along the route: exhausted old men, -women carrying and leading children, who moved aside to make way for -us, then stumbled in our wake. We passed through villages already -deserted, a forsaken countryside where the rain beat down the fields -of barley and ripe wheat. On we went. In passing, we gathered fruit -from the trees. At the fountains and springs we drank water made turbid -by the rain. We sang. We heard, somewhere, the roar of the cannon. We -had no idea where it thundered so. It seemed ahead of us and behind -us. As we saw nothing terrifying, as there was no visible evidence of -a battle, we advanced constantly, quite light-hearted, without knowing -that we were passing through one of the great battles of the beginning -of the war, one of the decisive struggles which did much to retard the -advance of the enemy; that our column, quite ignorant of events, was -thus marching freely across the battle of Guise. - -That, at foundation, is not so impossible as might appear. Shortly -after, we had occasion to verify such zones of silence in the midst -of violent action. Yes, one may be in the midst of battle and not be -aware of it. Even at Austerlitz the guard had not yet charged, half the -troops had not broken a cartridge, when the battle was won. - -This time our battle was to be gained by our legs, and consisted -solely of marching. And we marched. And we took no account of fatigue, -nor that the men who hastened along the road were all unaccustomed to -marching. One month before, all of us were civilians. Some were in -offices, bending over books; others sold dry goods, others were at -work-benches or in construction-yards. We were required to make an -unprecedented effort, to which none of us was trained. We were asked -to march for hours, for a day, for a night, none knew how long. We -must advance, cost what it might, follow an unfamiliar road, avoid -ambuscades, regain the rear of our army, rejoin other formations which, -farther on, were grouping under orders identical with our own. - -We went on. The officers had their orders, we followed them. And we -sang to drive away fatigue, to forget misery, to escape the thought of -the heavy knapsack, of the cartridges dragging on our shoulders, of all -the military harness, so useful but so heavy, which weighed down each -step of the soldier. We crossed fields of freshly ploughed ground. We -climbed slopes, descended hills, traversed plains. We went straight -toward the south, covering on foot the route by which we had come -to the fort in the train; a route which had become interminable, cut -only by a pause every fifty minutes, when one could stretch his aching -limbs, could pierce the swollen blisters on his heels, could break a -crust of bread or drink a swallow of water. - -Some civilians followed and attached themselves to us in the hope of -protection. There were women who marched close to the ranks, others who -confided their infants for a stage to near-by soldiers, still others -gave up, exhausted, and fell on the stones, with eyes rolled back, full -of terror and a sort of reproach. They felt themselves abandoned, too -worn out to follow longer, given over to all the tragic misery of the -invasion. And we turned our eyes that we might not see, in an agony -of soul that we must leave them, that we could not help them, that we -could not take them with us; ourselves crushed by the burdens of the -soldier, hard pushed to arrive at a destination still so far away, at -the spot selected for the halt, for rest, for sleep. - -We went on, and fatigue began to weigh upon us. Some comrades suddenly -quit the ranks, threw down their sacks with a wild gesture, and fell -to the ground. They were the physically weak, those first overwhelmed -by the burden, whom the enemy would gather up in his advance and take -away prisoner, an easily won booty. The underofficers tried to make -these men rise and continue their way, without much success. They were -at the end of their strength, incapable of further effort. They gave up -and fell. They accepted whatever fate awaited them. They had struggled -to the extreme limit of endurance. One had marched for several hours -with the soles of his feet entirely blistered away from the flesh; -another had persisted though suffering intolerably from hernia. Some -had foam on the chin. Several attempted suicide. Their firearms were -taken from them and were given to another man to carry for a time. The -latter soon threw them away because of their weight, first breaking -them that they might not be of service to the enemy. Every one began to -relieve himself of superfluous articles. We threw away linen and change -of shoes; then rations. We emptied our pockets; discarded our jackets. - -We marched, and marched, and marched: a march without end. There was no -pause, no aim, no goal. We marched. We sought the horizon, and must -push on still, as one horizon stretched away and gave place to another, -which again must be passed as the first. The day lengthened. The road -was never-ending. One after the other the hours rolled on, and still -we marched. We encountered vehicles stuck in the mire, which no one -attempted to help out of the ruts. We encountered horses in the last -throes of agony, struggling one last time to move one foot before the -other, then stiffening in death. We encountered automobiles in flames, -others in smoking ashes. We encountered encampments of poor wretches, -waiting at the edge of the road for a better hour. We encountered lost -children. Here and there we came upon a house pillaged, devastated, -bare, where remained no crust of bread, where even the wells had been -emptied of water. With difficulty one could draw from them a little -muddy liquid. The men chewed some beet-roots torn up in a field, to -allay the burning thirst. Then night approached. We still marched. The -twilight spread her veil of mist and blood. We marched. The shadows -fell. We marched. Night came. We marched. We stumbled on the stones -which seemed to rise from the road; over the wagon-ruts which cut it, -on the slopes which bordered it. We marched. There were unexpected -stops, when the column, suddenly halted at some point forward, folded -back upon itself like a telescope. The men jostled and swore. Wagons -were crushed, horses fell, in an indescribable confusion. Some soldiers -fell, and did not rise again. Then the movement resumed. We marched -again, and marched, and stopped, and went on. - -There was no more singing. There was no more talking. Occasionally an -oath. We discarded knapsack, clothing, food, even letters, in hope of -relief, and marched on toward our goal with groans. - -At last we stopped. We were in the midst of a black plain, lighted -only by a few dim fires, where the mud was almost knee-deep. We threw -ourselves down, broken, inert masses, without strength to spread a -blanket on the ground, asleep before we touched the earth. We had -covered seventy kilometres in one forced march, and no longer heard the -cannon. - - * * * * * - -Thus we slept, like brutes, until morning. It was not long. The early -light shone on a marsh made humpy by the bodies of men sleeping under -the mist. There were soldiers of all departments of service; Zouaves, -infantry, cavalry, artillery, fallen where they happened to be, without -order, and all but a few still sleeping. These few had lighted large -bonfires, where they warmed themselves. The light of the fires also -attracted many women, children, and old men, who stretched toward -the grateful warmth limbs stiffened by cold. The fires were fed with -branches of trees, broken parts of wagons, anything ready at hand -without too much effort to gather. - -The result was a more or less comforting warmth for the benumbed -creatures who crowded around, in a surprisingly promiscuous assemblage. -Some were heating soup made from heaven knows what, others attempted to -dry their shirts and blouses, soaked by sweat and rain. The rain had -ceased, but the sky remained gray, covered with hostile clouds. The -vision was limited by a low-hanging fog. On the road, the procession -of retreat continued to roll, disordered, in nervous haste and at the -same time slow. The underofficers reassembled our troop. We must start -again, enter the column surging along the road, resume the flight, -take up the march, press on still farther, and gain ground. - -With the new day the cannon again began to roar. It seemed quite near, -although one could not say exactly where the thundering came from. -One felt hunted down, without knowing the location of the enemy who -pursued so relentlessly. So the ranks were formed. Those who still had -knapsacks lifted them again to the shoulder, and again we marched. - -The first steps were difficult. Every joint was stiff, every muscle -ached, and we swore with every stride. Soon we warmed up to the -exercise and advanced more easily. The pace was set for five kilometres -an hour, and every one followed. - -Yo had found some wine, no one knows where. He poured a drop in the cup -of each of his neighbors, and it seemed quite refreshing. We managed to -keep going the entire morning. After a repose of two hours we started -again, always toward the south, always pursued by the cannon, which -seemed to move even faster than did we. We neared Vervins. The outlying -parishes indicated it at each kilometre, and we were only surprised -that the enemy had preceded us. It was nevertheless true. He went -like the wind, regardless of broken bridges, obstructed roads, opened -ravines. However fast we went, he went too fast even for us to follow. -He was ahead of us and behind us. He was reported on both sides of us. -He seemed to be everywhere. - -This is the way of the retreat. However rapid it seems, it is exceeded -in speed by the enemy. Every difficulty retards the troops in flight; -obstructed roads, slow-moving army wagons, necessary destruction. -The enemy pushes on. He sends forward his cavalry quite indifferent -to the condition of the land. He takes strategic points, he occupies -mountains, he bars passes. We must make a détour to cross a river over -which he leaps. We must save munitions which weigh heavily and impede -our course. We must watch for a safety which he disdains. He comes -and breaks the embryonic resistance which he encounters, overthrows -battalions already in rout, sweeps away regiments already disorganized. -You believe he is behind, he is really in front. You go to the right, -he is there. You return to the left, he has forestalled you. Those -hours of torture, when difficulties accumulate to impede flight, when -the mother’s weakness detains the son, when the weight of a child is a -crushing burden! Those hours of agony, when all about is burning, when -terror is spread abroad, when only menace is seen on every hand! Those -who have lived through such hours will never be able to efface them -from the memory. - -We arrived at Vervins, already attacked by the enemy, but defended by -a screen of troops with some cannon. From the distracted town, where -the detonations rocked the houses and made the window-panes rattle, -one could watch the battle. Some aeroplanes were flying about overhead -like great birds of war. They were the first military aircraft, -still incomplete and badly armed. From them the observer could see -but little, and he was obliged to descend to earth to bring his -information. Such as these machines were, they interested us much, and -seemed to fulfil in the air a remarkable mission. - -Beyond this observation, the sight did not prevent some of us from -seeking provision. It was already very difficult to find food in -that town, where an army had passed. Practically nothing was left. -The shops had wound up their business and their owners were preparing -for flight. Everywhere were piled up furniture, scattered straw, torn -paper. Nothing kept its usual course. One paid no matter what sum for -two spoiled eggs. Berthet achieved a veritable triumph in discovering a -pound of almond chocolate. - -However, the soup was cooked on the kitchen-stoves in the houses. The -quartermasters distributed meat and bread, at least as much as they -could procure from the commissariat wagons which had stopped at the -edge of the town. Some wounded men, returning from the fighting-lines, -mingled with the men carrying wood and water. Some artillery wagons -went through the streets at full speed, vainly searching some munitions -gone astray. - -In this general turmoil there came to hand an unfamiliar newspaper: -it was the _Bulletin of the Army of the Republic_, which the minister -of war had just established, and which was distributed to the troops. -Every one, eager for news, obtained a copy and turned its pages -rapidly, in the hope of gaining some definite knowledge of events. -We read some reports of victorious progress in Alsace. The reading -gave us some comfort and strengthened our courage. All was not lost, -then, since the enemy was retreating over there! We exchanged words of -confidence, we reassured each other: Germany would be beaten, that was -certain. The Cossacks were invading Prussia, and our retreat signified -nothing: we were at a disadvantageous point of the field of action, -that was all! The enemy, hard pressed elsewhere, was going to retreat -in his turn, and would be pursued to Berlin. - -Laughter became contagious, and some joyous souls could not refrain -from boasting. Our fatigue fell from us; we were again serene. - -None the less, it was necessary to continue the movement already -initiated, retreat still further, resume the march as soon as night -had fallen, gain in all haste a point at the rear which had been -indicated to our chief officers. We again took the highroad. It was -still crowded, but only by the troops. The fugitive civilians were -obliged to yield it to the army wagons and infantry, and themselves -march across fields. They could be seen in long files, like migratory -tribes, stopped by natural obstacles, entangled by hedges and hindered -by watercourses. We passed without giving them aid; there was no time -to stop. We were directed toward Laon, which we must reach at all cost, -in order to organize the resistance before the arrival of the enemy. - -Laon was far away, and the road was long, and the sack was heavy, and -the march was at a bruising pace. We braced ourselves for endurance. -Our faces, with several days’ growth of beard, were streaked with sweat -and dirt, were drawn and haggard from fatigue. We marched all night -without arriving at our goal, then all day. It was evening when we -reached the citadel perched on its rock, dominating a vast stretch of -plain. We were installed in an entirely new barrack, and went to sleep -without eating. We were not hungry, which was well, as there were no -provisions. I threw myself on a bed and fell asleep like a clod. It -would be light to-morrow, one could see clearly to-morrow; one could -wash to-morrow, one could eat to-morrow. - -That was the way of it. All night the exhausted troop slept without -sentinels, stomach empty, mouth open, in whatever position they -happened to fall, utterly incapable of any defense. If the enemy -had come, he could have swept away at a single stroke and without a -struggle ten thousand men. There was not one of us who could have fired -a shot. - -This haste was important. It gave time to catch our breath. The army -having escaped the German pursuit, saved its quota and could reorganize. - -“Look at that steep bluff!” said Berthet to me the following morning. -“It seems impregnable, does it not? Nevertheless, in 1809 Napoleon’s -Marie Louise Battalion took Laon by storm, from this side, and made a -bayonet charge up those steep slopes, and dislodged the enemy.” - -As for us, we must first descend the declivity. The enemy was -approaching. His scouts and advance-guards flashed through the plain -in every direction. He gushed from the woods, he streamed along the -roads, he inundated the fields. He came from everywhere, as if the -entire earth had vomited Germans. They were innumerable as a cloud of -locusts. It was more like a plague than an army. It was a barbarian -horde pouring itself over our country and forcing us to retreat again; -always retreat, always faster, without looking back and without -offering resistance. - -We set out once more, madness in our eyes. Would it never end, this -flight? What was happening? What were our armies doing? Were we going -to fall back as far as Paris? or perhaps still farther, as far as -the Loire? We no longer knew what to think. We no longer possessed -speech or ideas. The chiefs knew no more than the men. They no longer -attempted to explain. Our lieutenant carried the knapsack of a man gone -lame, and marched chewing a cigar. Our commandant went up and down the -length of the column with a sombre air, and no one dreamed of singing. - -These were the first days of September. The air was still hot -and stifling. Some men, made giddy by the sun, fell in crumpled -masses. Sweat ran off our bodies, rusted the arms in our hands. A -suffocating dust filled the air and covered faces and clothing with an -ever-thickening layer. Throats were parched, eyes haggard, shoulders -bleeding. - -Berthet fell. I helped him up, he fell again. He could go no farther, -and I feared that I would see him die there of exhaustion. I rubbed -him, made him drink a little mint. Then I put him in the shade and went -foraging. I discovered some water and a fresh egg, which I made him -take. He swallowed it, only half conscious. Then I saw a resurrection. -He sat up, light returned to his eye and color to his cheek. - -Thus he was saved; but how many remained on the route, easy prey for -brutal German soldiers, and how many died, their names unknown! The -plains of Thierache and of the Aisne alone know how many fell by -the way, victims of exhaustion, during the great retreat, when the -foul enemy already scented Paris and believed it within his grasp; -superhuman retreat, which spread for the foe the snare of the Marne, -that miracle which the passing centuries will hold in remembrance. - -Such was the retreat, from my view-point as a humble soldier of the -ranks, from my position as an atom lost in the immense movement. Others -will recount its strategic value; others will explain its grandeur. I -have seen only what I have here related, I, a little cog in the huge -tragedy, and I am proud to have lived those hours. Other great hours -were to follow, but those passed through were not the least wonderful. - - - - -IV - -WAITING - - -We took with us on our retreat some prisoners captured at Guise, during -our frenzied flight; some dozen men, whom the gendarmes conducted, -handcuffs on wrists. They excited much curiosity. - -These soldiers did not give a very proud idea of the battle, nor of -the enemy army. They were poor devils, dressed in gray, whose boots of -tan leather alone drew attention. These looked very well, but were too -narrow for the feet, and several men limped in a ridiculous manner. - -Chained with them marched some civilians, marauders or spies, also -being conducted to the rear. One of them attempted escape one night. -Immediately retaken, one hour later he stood before a court martial, -whose sombre appearance is graven on my memory. - -It was a simple village house, with green shutters. A sentry stood -at the door. Through the open windows one could see the tribunal in -session, and the accused defending himself. The trial was brief and -tragic. Five officers were seated in a commonplace dining-room, with -an extension-table for a desk, at the end of which two clerks were -writing. At the end of the room, in front of the buffet, some gendarmes -guarded the accused. The contrast between the austere scene and its -setting was striking. There a man was being judged, there his life or -death was the subject for decision; and the cannon were roaring, quite -near, and the retreating army was filling the village street. - -I saw the man plead his cause, standing, gesticulating. The judges -listened attentively and gravely. Not a muscle of their countenances -moved; they seemed made of wax. Their caps made splashes of scarlet -and gold on the table. On the wall behind the presiding officer hung -a naïve picture of a country fête. The hanging lamp appeared to have -been in the way: it was unhooked and put in a corner. I could plainly -hear the voices, though I could not distinguish the words. The accused -implored. He clasped his hands and fell on his knees. Then he uttered a -cry.... The gendarmes dragged him away. His place was taken by another -prisoner. - -The next day, when we were leaving, he was missing. He had been shot at -sunrise. - - * * * * * - -We finished the retreat by railway, finding a train which had come as -far as a broken bridge and was turning back on its route. We were shut -up in the carriages three entire days. Though it seemed an interminable -journey, nevertheless it ended with our return to our starting-point. - -This return, of a fantastic duration (our whole trip could be made -in eight hours in time of peace) occupied the first days of the -battle of the Marne. Yes, while the destiny of the world hung in the -balance, while the most formidable struggle the earth had ever seen -was in progress, we were packed into boxes on wheels, we were shunted -about and loitered on the rails like so much useless merchandise. -Our train moved, stopped, went into a station, departed, stopped -again. We remained for hours on grassy tracks where no train had -passed for months. We borrowed unfamiliar routes, we lost our way -on unknown switches. Sometimes we stopped in a tunnel, or in the -midst of a deserted countryside. Sometimes we halted at a town where -the inhabitants crowded about us, bringing provisions of all sorts: -bread, wine, meat, and fruit, and fêted us in a thousand ways. The -people questioned us eagerly. The greater number had a son or brother -in the army, and naïvely asked news of them. We had no information -whatever, but exchanged assurances of an early victory. In spite of -what we had seen, our confidence remained unbroken, and we gave much -comfort to those who saw only disaster ahead. We maintained that the -French advance continued constantly in Alsace, that the Germans were -retreating everywhere, that the Russians were galloping on Berlin by -forced marches. We were certain that Germany was rushing to suicide, -and our certainty was eagerly demanded in exchange for the presents -received. The sympathy of all these people was touching. It seemed -as though we were all one family with these, our own French people, -who were giving us so hearty a welcome. We felt so grateful for their -reception that we would have liked to embrace them all. - -Then the train started. We exchanged hearty adieus as we went -away--only to stop a little farther on for another lapse of time. After -three full days of this we reached our destination. We had traversed -half of France, and were now going to recuperate for new hardships. - -Our camp was located in a little village buried in verdure, in the -midst of a calm countryside, as far from the war as possible. Very -little news reached this out-of-the-way spot; newspapers were old when -they arrived. The populace lived as usual, groaning a bit to keep in -countenance, but not suffering any real inconvenience. - -We were soon bored to death. In spite of the daily exercises, in spite -of the drills, in spite of the preparations and small side comedy of -war, we longed for the tempest, for the great whirlwind which was -sweeping away our brothers over yonder, toward the east. Only its -echoes reached us. There was the Marne; there was the German retreat; -there was the digging of trenches, the line stretched to the sea; there -was the Yser. - -Yet here we stayed. Time passed heavily. We felt much aggrieved: it -seemed that the war was bound to be too short to offer us a sufficient -revenge. We gave up hope of returning to the front, so long did the -days seem while our comrades were doing the fighting. - -Berthet and I never ceased to fret. Inertia crushed us. We would have -accepted no matter what offer of an errand in order to go away, to have -action, to quit the tranquil country where we were vegetating, to find -again adventure, to run risks: in short, to live. It seemed to us that -we spent months there, stagnating. In reality it was six weeks. - -In that apparent inaction the regiment was putting itself in condition. -One day twelve hundred men were selected for reinforcements to join a -neighboring division of the army. There were touching farewells. Those -who were leaving, feverish with joy, shook hands proudly with those who -remained behind, and who were envious to the last man. None of these, -however, was destined to return unharmed. All were mowed down on the -plains of Champagne in their first engagement, and their places were -filled by new comrades from other camps. - -That also is an aspect of war. One does not keep constantly the same -comrades, nor even the same officers. The army is a living organism -which undergoes constant wear and rebuilding. At first, one gladly -believes that he will always have the same neighbors, that he will be -with the same sergeant, that he will be surrounded by the same faces -until the end. Then one comrade is transferred to another regiment, -another merely disappears. Another is called to a distance: he goes -and never returns. Soon one finds himself the only man remaining of -the original group. The company has not fought, it has not suffered -murderous losses, and still its personnel has been renewed. - -Yo is gone. Amelus is gone. Happily, Berthet remains for me, and I for -him. We will not leave each other. We believe it since we desire it, -and we are almost sure that we will be able to mould the future to our -wish; such is the immense vanity of man. - -Thus we spent our days, soldiers without being soldiers, soldiers of -time of peace, tied down to puerile exercises, to imaginary assaults, -to supposititious battles. We champed our bits. We longed for the -struggle, we awaited our turn with growing impatience. - -It came at last. One evening the order to go forward arrived. The -regiment was ready, solid, high-spirited, complete. It set out: all -felt a secret thrill. At last we were going to the Front, we were going -to know, to fight, and to die! - - - - -V - -LA PIOCHE - - -It is night. It is raining. The train stops at a station. We have -arrived. But where? No one knows. All is black. All is sombre. All is -sinister. All is threatening. We alight from the carriages to stretch -our legs. - -“Silence!” growl the officers. “In two ranks, quick!” Along the -platform we fall in line as well as possible in the dark, our knapsacks -on our backs, and, over all, the rain. - -“Forward.” - -We reach a road; a road that feels hard under the feet. A damp chill -arises from the invisible earth and the rain glues our clothing to our -skins. Our shoes are heavy with mud. We march. Each follows the comrade -who stumbles along ahead, and whom one can hardly see. One hears -only the rustling of the trees, the confused sound of steps, a brief -exclamation, an oath. We go straight ahead where we are led; through -the dark toward the unknown. - -“Silence!” hiss the chiefs, “we are close to the enemy. Not a word; not -a cigarette.” - -A sort of apprehension grips us. The fear of the unknown binds us. It -is not the certainty of danger: it is worse. It is an inexpressible -anguish. One is in danger from invisible blows that will fall unawares. -We mount a hill. At the summit one has a view, a darkly shut-in view, -whose walls of black are pierced by flashes of fire; mere sparks in the -distance. Artillery! This which we look down upon is the Front. There, -below us, at a considerable distance still, they are fighting. With -throbbing hearts, eager to advance, to arrive at the place destined for -us, we peer into the cannon-starred curtain of the night. - -But the march continues to be slow. One slips on the muddy ground, one -skids, one swears. As we go down the hill the stirring sight is blotted -out like dying fireworks, and we are once more in a shut-in road, whose -embankments add to the blackness and cut off all outlook. - -Nevertheless, the confused sounds of the battle carry up the slope -to our marching troop. Somewhere, down there, a lively artillery -duel crashes in fury and the brilliant flashes of light dart their -resplendent triangles into the heavens. Is it there we are going? No -one knows. One feels his heart thrilled and a little shaken by the -nearness. Instinctively one touches elbows with his neighbor, tightens -his grip on his rifle; becomes silent. - -All the time we advance. Occasionally there are stops; sudden, -unlooked-for stops. Then one starts on. Soon we reach some houses. We -are entering the street of a village and the shaded lanterns cast weird -shadows on the walls. The column crowds together. We catch our breath. - -“We camp here,” say the sergeants. - -The orders are sent along the line. There is a moment of rest; then the -squads break up. Every one seeks his place of shelter. We are quartered -in the buildings of a large farm. I and my companions are billeted in -a barn and we stamp our feet on the unthreshed wheat which has been -stored there. Each begins hollowing out a place to sleep. - -“Make no lights,” order the sergeants, “you will be spotted.” - -“Eh, boys!” calls a voice, “where do you come from?” - -And from between the bundles of straw we see the up-lifted heads -of several soldiers. Approaching them, we find that they have been -comfortably sleeping in their straw nests, and that our arrival has -awakened them. We question them: - -“What is this place, here?” - -“It is Taissy.” - -“Ah!” - -“Is it far from the trenches?” - -“Oh, no, mon garçon; only about fifteen hundred metres.” - -Then they tell their story. They are cripples, mostly lame, who are -waiting for vehicles to take them back to the dressing-stations. They -have been in the trenches for a month; they have fought; they give -details of their battles. We do not see them. We hear only detached -phrases which come to us confusedly out of the night. - -“A dirty hole. We lost a heap of men.” - -“There’s a fort up there which we recaptured.” - -“There were three counter-attacks.” - -“Then, a dirty canal full of rotten meat. What a stink!” - -Suddenly some furious detonations rend the air. Every one is silent. We -listen. - -“That’s nothing,” say the old-timers, “it’s only our battery firing. -But if the Boches answer you will see something!” - -“Do they often reply?” - -“Hell, yes! Every day. Half of the village is already pounded to -pieces.” - -“Ouf!” - -It is true. A comrade who has been prowling around outside comes back: - -“The next farmhouse is demolished. The roof is gone and the walls are -like a sieve.” - -“Silence!” growl the sergeants. “Go to sleep. You must fall in at five -o’clock to-morrow morning.” - -The conversations cease. Each one picks out a place, buries himself in -the straw, and sinks into sleep as a ship is engulfed by the waves. - -It is our first night under fire. Perhaps some of us do not find -untroubled slumber, but there is no alarm and to stay awake is useless. -Besides, there is nothing to do but sleep. So we sleep. - -At dawn we are afoot. We can see that the war is not far distant. The -near-by houses are disembowelled, and such walls as still stand are -pierced by great round holes where the shells passed. Certain roofs -seem like lace, their rafters blackened by fire and rain. We are -curious, and run about that we may not miss seeing any of the damage -done by the bombardment. - -“Back to your quarters!” cry the non-coms. “To go out is forbidden.” - -We hardly heard them, and they had to use force to hold back the men -and prevent their scattering in the village streets. The officers came -to the rescue. Then we obeyed. Soon came the order to fall in, the roll -was called, and as soon as the knapsacks were buckled to the shoulders -we started on. We were going to the trenches. - -The cannonade incessantly grew louder. We followed a road bordered -with trees and masked by underbrush; a road leading toward the noise. -Every eye sought for signs of this unknown thing into which we were -marching. They were not lacking. Everywhere broken branches hung from -the trees, and frequently we passed ruined houses whose peasant owners -dumbly watched our marching troop. On we marched. We crossed a bridge -and entered another village, a hamlet entirely deserted, mutilated, -horrible to look at, like a wounded man lying on the ground. Its -houses, after their years of tranquillity, had suffered a terrible -assault. They were riddled with shells; their walls were like a -moth-eaten garment. We could see the interiors still fully furnished; -curtains still hanging at windows where all the glass had been -shattered; half-open buffets, occasionally with their mirrors intact. -Only a glimpse did we catch as we passed. Then we left the ruins and, -for a time, followed a canal. This we crossed by a frail foot-bridge -and found ourselves in a narrow ditch--a communication-trench--the -first we had seen. We descended into the earth, following this narrow -chink which reached to our shoulders and, at times, entirely concealed -us. This boyau wound its way about, turning and zigzagging apparently -without reason. We traversed it in single file, seeing nothing but -the back of the man in front and the two walls of smooth clay cut -perpendicularly to the bottom. - -It was a sight unfamiliar to all: an extraordinary journey, a thing of -mystery, the entering of an infernal region where feelings of humanity -were left behind. - -Suddenly a rapid whistling passed over our heads, which were lowered in -one simultaneous movement. Another followed, then another and, a little -behind us, three explosions resounded with a noise like the tearing of -silk amid a jangling of metals. We had received our baptism of fire. - -We advanced more quickly in an eagerness to reach our underground home. -We bumped the walls, sometimes so close together that our knapsacks -stuck fast, so that we had to tear them loose with a considerable -effort. All the time we shuddered at the nasty whistle of the shells, -which passed to fall and crash behind. One felt that he must escape; -must get out of this place where, if he remained, he was sure to be -mashed like a strawberry in a marmalade. The march quickened so that we -almost ran, staggering against the trench walls at every sudden turn of -its meandering course and always, above us, that terrible screaming and -those crashing explosions. - -Lord! But our cheeks were pale and our looks anxious. Later we stood -it better as we became accustomed to it. This, however, was our first -moment under fire, our first meeting with the foe, and we felt crushed -by the narrow confines of this fissure in which we could only follow -the column--a column without end, which straggled over too great a -length in spite of the efforts of the officers to hurry the men and to -close up the distances. - -Suddenly we emerged into open ground. A railroad-embankment with its -rails in place, its telegraph-poles still standing and occasionally a -flagman’s house still in good condition, hid us from the enemy. At one -bound we glued ourselves to this embankment, flattening our bodies on -the ground; for the German shells continued to lash the air, while out -on the plain gray puffs marked their explosions. - -Some comrades, whose easy gait showed their familiarity with the place, -were already advancing toward us. They motioned to us and pointed out -the dugouts. - -“This way. Don’t stay there.” - -We followed their directions on the run and entered by groups into the -shelters they had indicated. Here, packed together so closely that we -could not budge, we waited for the storm to pass. In the abri were some -wounded on their way to the dressing-station, and we felt the deepest -emotion at seeing the stretchers with their mangled and groaning -burdens. - -At last the firing stopped. We waited for orders. The sergeants were -called together for instruction. Soon they came back and then our -work began. We first laid aside our knapsacks and grouped ourselves -by squads. Then we picked out tools from a long pile of shovels and -pickaxes, and followed the non-coms along the embankment, a little -nervous, it is true, but curious about the work we were to do. - -“Two picks, one shovel,” came the order. “Two picks, one shovel,” -repeated the sergeants as they placed us at our distances. - -“Voilà! You are going to dig here. Loosen the ground with the picks and -clear it away with the shovels. Do you understand?” - -Then we went at the work. It was the beginning of our first trench. -Gradually we heated up; we hacked at the soil; we shovelled it away; -we spat on our hands; we struck again; we wiped away the perspiration. -Occasionally some shells seemed to leap over the embankment and passed, -screeching, on their way. We dodged at the sound and then laughed at -our involuntary movement. Then we straightened up to catch our breath, -and in the moment inspected our workyard and glimpsed the neighborhood. -The embankment of the _chemin de fer_ entirely protected us from the -enemy. At a little distance two rows of trees marked the way of the -canal we had crossed. Between the parallel lines of the canal and the -railroad was a field of beets, humped in places with bodies of men that -one had not had time to bury; while here and there crosses marked the -fallen of the earlier days of the struggle. - -We saw all this at a glance, and quickly bent ourselves back to the -earth and our toil. Our rifles hampered us in our work, and we laid -them on the freshly heaped-up earth, taking care to protect them -from sand. We did not know why they were making us do this digging, -or what good purpose was to be served by our labor; but we worked on -unremittingly, proud to accomplish the necessary task, proud to be at -work and to feel so calm in the midst of war. - -“You are lucky,” said one of the veterans standing near by. “The sector -is calm to-day. You would not have been able to do that yesterday.” - -“Lively, was it?” - -“You’ve said something. But tell me, have you come to relieve us? It’s -not a bit too soon.” - -“We don’t know.” - -“It’s likely that is what we’re here for,” added some one. - -In reality, no; we did not know. They had sent us there and there we -stayed. After all, no one seemed able to give us an explanation, and -we didn’t try to explain things ourselves. They told us to hurry and -we hurried. That was all. In the meantime our tracks were burying -themselves. The ditch was already knee-deep, and by so much it -diminished the stature of each of the diggers. No one stopped us, so -we kept on, digging furiously, as if the final victory depended on our -effort of this moment. - -When evening came and twilight enveloped us in her soft, purple -mantle, the violent note of the cannon barked only intermittently, -and the gusts of bullets, wailing in the air, sounded like swarms of -musical insects swiftly regaining their homes. We believed the hour of -repose was near. But we were mistaken: another task awaited us. It was -necessary to take advantage of the night to cross the embankment, gain -the first line and take our position. - -In these first weeks of intrenched warfare, movements of this sort were -relatively easy. We were hidden in the darkness: we had only to leap -the embankment and move to our places. The enemy replied only when he -heard a noise, and fired quite at random. His commonest field-piece was -the light seventy-seven, which barked loudly but did little damage, -and the workmen of the two camps matched their skill at only a hundred -metres’ distance, without hurting each other very much. - -This evening they placed us behind some trees at a roadside. - -“Fire only on order,” said the officers. “One of our companies is -out in front fixing the wire. If you fire, you risk wounding your -comrades.” - -They repeated their instructions to the sergeants and thus began -our first night at the front. Each one watched as well as he could, -straining his eyes in the effort to pierce the blackness, hearing the -blows of the mallets on the stakes and thrilling at the fusillade. - -A night is long. A night in November is cold. It freezes. We shivered -out there in the dark, but we did not dare to budge. The noise of -shooting was almost constant, and bullets were striking everywhere -about us, ringing on the stones, clipping twigs from the trees or -sinking dully into the soil. Our teeth chattered; we shivered; we tried -to warm our hands by rubbing them. Some rash ones stamped their feet -to restore the circulation, and from time to time we heard a muffled -conversation. We didn’t know where we were nor the distance which -separated us from the enemy. We feared a possible ambush, a surprise -attack maybe, and we pinched ourselves to keep awake. The hours seemed -deadly long. - -At last we saw the dirty gray of dawn overspread the sky and slowly -dissipate the thick mist that rose from the earth. Clumps of trees -and underwood, little by little, took form. No sooner were they fully -visible than a terrible fusillade broke out, lashing the air like a -thousand hisses; a crackling shower of bullets that rolled and rattled -like hail. They cut the branches just above us and made the pebbles -fly. We crouched to the ground; buckling our sacks, gripping our -guns, hunching our shoulders and tensing our legs to be ready for the -expected attack. - -“Get ready to go back,” whispered the sergeants and the order was -repeated along the line. We crept, we crawled like slugs, profiting by -the smallest tuft of grass, the shallowest recess in the ground that -might serve as a shield, but with little hope of escape. - -Some furious discharges of seventy-fives cracked with such rapidity -and precision that they comforted us. We felt sustained and protected -and steadied ourselves. We were annoyingly hampered by our heavy -equipment, our inconvenient cartridge-boxes and all our cumbersome -accoutrement. Suddenly a man was wounded. He cried out, and, losing all -prudence, arose, ran, crossed the embankment and fled to the shelter. -Instinctively we followed his example. On the way another man was -wounded and fell. Two of his companions seized him and, dragging him -between them, struggled to safety, in the shelter of the railroad-bank. -It was finished. We reassembled. We were muddy, bruised, and wounded; -eyes red from loss of sleep, and mouths drawn, but, just the same, we -were content. Thenceforth we were soldiers. We had faced danger. True, -we had not fought, but we were ready. - -Our rôle had just commenced. We had occupied this sector to fit it -up as this novel thing, this underground war, demanded. This task -achieved, we were to be its defenders. It was necessary to dig -trenches that we might no longer watch from the scanty shelter of -trees; to improve on these primitive holes that had been dug, to serve -temporarily, at the beginning of the battle. Therefore we dug trenches. -It was necessary to connect them with communication-channels. Therefore -we dug boyaux. We had to install redans, build firing benches or -banquettes[C] and construct dugouts. All these things we did. We dug -in the earth day and night. We gathered up cubic metres of soil and -threw them out in front to heighten our parapet. We used our shovels -and picks; we sweat; we suffered; we froze. - -The winter rolled on. December brought intense cold. Ice and snow -covered the land, and while we watched the foe, our rifles froze in -the loopholes. We ate when we were lucky. The kitchens were far in the -rear, and when the soup and coffee arrived they were ice-cold. The -service men started early with their mess-pails, but they stumbled -in the trenches and often spilled more of the soup and wine than -they brought. We ate badly; we slept little: we always dug. We never -rested. There were heavy materials to be carried; the stakes for the -entanglements, the spools of wire, the sheet iron, the posts, and the -timbers. There was nightly patrol duty, the hours on guard, the attack -to repulse, endless holes to be bored in the earth. In the daytime -one slept where he could, curling up in the mud at the bottom of the -trench or seeking to avoid the rain by crawling into some fissure. -At night we stole out into No Man’s Land and stalked the foe or dug -a listening-post. We watched the illuminating rockets. We plunged to -shelter when they threatened to expose us to fire. - -We lived there some strenuous hours, some terrible weeks. Some suffered -from trench foot, some froze to death, some were killed. These are -terrible things: these nights on guard, these nights hugging the ground -when on patrol, these nights in the listening-post when the body -chills, becomes numb, and loses all sensation. One goes on detail and -loses one’s way. One falls, dumb with fatigue, and an alarm sounds. One -starts to sleep and an attack rages. - -War is a thing of horror. It is more. The very soil is hollowed out -like dens of beasts; and into these creep human beings. The rain -saturates the trench and rots legs and wood alike. The corpse hangs -on the wire and serves as a target. War is cold, war is black, war is -night. It is, in truth, such a horror that those who have lived these -hours may say: “I was there. But to tell about it is to live it over -again. And that is too much.” - -[Illustration: Emmanuel Bourcier at the front in the sector of Rheims -in 1915.] - -As for us, we suffered. At first we had no dugouts and slept beneath -the open sky. We had no trenches and stalked our foe while waist-deep -in mud. In December’s cold we had no fire. This which we saw, which we -defended, which the foe destroyed, was France. Our land was invaded, -profaned by the German, and we could not retake it. These conquered -forests, these occupied cities, these subjugated plains, these -mountains polluted, were our native soil and we could not regain them. -The sacred homeland was under the boot of the German. Was this the -death-rattle in the throat of the republic? - - - - -VI - -THE GAS - - -The severe winter ran its course. We had worked incessantly. We had -a whole sector to ourselves. First, there was the tangled network -of barbed-wire, a piece of work in which we all had a share. Each -evening, as night fell, a company of men went out on No Man’s Land to -work in the thick, treacherous darkness. One gang dug holes and put -in the posts, another stretched the parallel wires, another attached -the transverse wires. As this required great blows of a mallet, it -made considerable noise, which drew down the enemy’s gun-fire. As -they gained experience, the men went out rapidly, worked swiftly, -and returned to our trenches only when their task was accomplished. -At dawn, the Boches tried to destroy our work of the night before, -by firing many volleys into the network. The damage was never -considerable, and they stopped that game when, imitating them, we cut -their barbed-wire to pieces. - -Under that efficacious protection we contrived openings for listening -and firing trenches. At the first, two men alternated in a constant -lookout, with ear quick to catch any sound, with eyes strained to -observe the most minute sign. Behind them, on the benches,[D] entire -sections, with guns poised in the loopholes, waited and watched -from twilight to dawn, while the others slept, down in the shelters -underground. - -This organization constituted the first lines in the spring of 1915, -when we hoped for an early victory. So temporary did the work appear -to be, we spent no more time and effort on our trench systems than -seemed necessary for immediate purposes. The dugouts were of the -most limited dimensions, really kennels, large enough for two men -to sleep fairly comfortably, but which usually housed six, no one -knows how. One came there overcome by sleep. One threw himself on -the ground without removing his accoutrement, and was asleep almost -before touching the earth. To afford some protection against the -bitter wind, a cloth was stretched in front of the opening. While this -shut out the unwelcome breezes, it also shut in a concentrated, hot -and malodorous steam, composed of the mouldy moisture from the earth -itself, of human perspiration and panting exhalations, of wet leather -and clothing. However, one breathed somehow. When the time was up, -and one went out to resume work or watching, the icy air enveloped -one like a sepuchral winding-sheet, and the night blinded one’s eyes. -One followed the communication-trench, took up gun or shovel, as the -order might happen to be, and became either soldier or laborer; or, -more often, both at once. Everything was done at night. Everything was -dismal, dangerous, frightful. There was no real repose, no relaxation. -The incessant shell-fire added its horror to our other discomforts and -dangers. The shell! that insensate creature of chance, which bursts -over the innocent, scatters its fragments over the plain, and in -stupid indifference crushes a clod of earth or snuffs out the lives of -a hundred human beings. The shell! that monster which comes with a -moaning wail, invisible as a beast of darkness, and dies in a shower of -fire. - -One easily becomes familiar with its sound. At first, every shot was -terrifying. Then we learned to know approximately what course a shell -would follow, at what point it would fall. Then we ceased to listen -to or fear any but those coming our way. No others counted. They were -non-existent. - -Before we reached this point of familiarity, the salvos of that -plaything, the seventy-five, made us shudder. They came so fast that -we scarcely had time to distinguish the individual shots. Immediately -the deadly whistling object skimmed the ground, and the explosion -resounded. Some men turned pale, others paid little attention. - -Berthet and I found much in this life to interest us. We ran about to -see whatever could be seen. As soon as a cannonade began, we went in -that direction for the pleasure of observing it. We volunteered for all -sorts of difficult tasks, tempted by the risk, enticed by the eternal -charm of adventure. He was brave, was Berthet, but knew not how brave -he was. Sometimes I sought to restrain him, at which he was always -astonished. “I wish to know,” he said, “if I will be afraid.” And he -had his way. He went out on the embankment, where he inspected the -horizon regardless of the projectiles which saluted his silhouette as -soon as he appeared. - -We had some magnificent spectacles. One evening there was a bombardment -followed by infantry attack. The German uneasiness had been evident in -the morning. It expressed itself by a storm of projectiles which fell -aimlessly and did little damage. The shells cut the grass, exploded -like a sheaf of fireworks, sent the dirt flying high into the air. It -worried us at first, then, as we found ourselves safe in the shelter -of our deep trenches, assurance returned. Each man went about his -business. Some were detailed to dig a tunnel, one must go to the -kitchens to fetch soup and bread, another cleaned the arms, rusted -during the night by the fog, or in the morning by the dew. All the -same, this violent bombardment troubled our officers not a little; they -feared a surprise. We had a visit from our general toward evening. He -gave some orders, took a look at the loopholes of observation, and -went away apparently content. His calm was most reassuring. - -Calm is not everything in war. The plans of the enemy must also be -taken into account. The Boche artillery became violent. Over our -trenches streamed a fire of shells of all calibers mingled. They fell -tearing away whole banks of earth at once; they exploded thunderously, -in a cloud of dust and stinking smoke. We looked for the worst; we -suspected a close attack, a hand-to-hand clash. Suddenly a great cry -rang out: - -“The gas!” - -It was true. Over there, from the enemy’s lines, came great greenish -balls, rolling close to the earth, rolling deliberately yet swiftly, -rolling straight toward us. Gas! That horrible thing, still almost -unknown, which had been used for the first time only recently on the -Yser. It was coming with deadly surety amidst a tornado of artillery. -Orders were shouted back and forth: - -“The gas! Put on the masks!” - -Each man spread over his face the protecting cloth. The shelters -were closed. The telephone, whose wires ran the length of the -communication-trenches, gave the warning: “Look out! The gas!” - -We did not yet know what manner of horror it was. None of us had -experienced an attack of the sort. We ran to and fro like ants whose -hill has been molested. Some fired their guns at random, others awaited -orders. The frightful, livid thing came on, expanded to a cloud, crept -upon us, glided into the trenches. The air was quickly obscured. We -were swimming in an atmosphere stained a venomous color, uncanny, -indescribable. The sky appeared greenish, the earth disappeared. The -men staggered about for a moment, took a gasping breath, and rolled -on the ground, stifled. There were some knots of soldiers who had -been asleep in their beds when overtaken by the gas. They writhed in -convulsions, with vitals burning, with froth on the lips, calling for -their mothers or cursing the German. We gathered them up as best we -could; we took them to the doctors, who, thus confronted by an unknown -condition, found themselves powerless. They tried the application of -oxygen and ether in an effort to save the lives of the victims, only -to see them die, already decomposed, in their hands. - -The masks had not yet been perfected and were a poor protection. -Some ran about like madmen, shrieking in terror, the throat choked -with saliva, and fell in heaps, in contortions of agony. Some filled -the mouth with handfuls of grass and struggled against asphyxiation. -Others, down in the shelters, sprinkled face and neck with brackish -water, and awaited a death all too long in coming.[E] Over all this -the artillery shrieked in unchained madness. The sky was of steel, -quivering and molten. There were no longer any distinctly heard shots, -but a storm of fire. It roared, it whistled, it exploded without -respite, as if all the furies of hell were yelping, in a thick, -metallic sky. At the left, little by little, an ever-reddening glow -showed the neighboring city of Rheims, which the Boches were bombarding -in a mad rage of destruction. We saw the flames leap up, the houses -kindle like torches and throw toward the sky clouds of sparks and -streams of black and red smoke. Everything seemed flaming and tottering -and falling in a wild delirium. The earth itself opened to swallow the -last survivors. In the trenches the bodies of the dead were heaped, and -twisted or bleeding corpses choked the passageways. - -Fiercely, convulsively, desperately, the comrades who were unhurt -fought at their loopholes. Reinforcements came from the rear in haste, -and took their places. Their eyes were those of madmen, their breath -was panting. - -“The assault will be here in a minute, boys,” I said to my nearest -neighbors. “Look out for yourselves. Have your cartridges ready. You, -there, lift your gun higher, or you will fire badly! And you, aim -toward that corner you see over there!” - -Berthet helped me, with a tragic manner of responsibility; the -underofficers ran from one man to another crying: “Keep cool! We will -get them! Just let them come on!” - -Then the action rushed on even more furiously, more demoniac. In the -midst of the increased cannonade the gun-fire rattled. It commenced at -the left, gained the centre, reached the right. The whole line crackled -like the beginning of a roll of thunder. We could no longer see ahead -of us. We fired as fast as possible, without knowing where, cutting -into space. - -“Here they are! Keep cool!” - -In the dim light a gray mass was oscillating. As it rapidly advanced, -we could distinguish small objects on the plain, like moving blades -of grass. We fired: cries could be heard. We fired more rapidly. The -gas was dissipating, but the night was becoming thick. Our only light -was the blazing city of Rheims and the glow of shells. The pandemonium -increased. One could distinguish only his immediate neighbor, lifting -his gun, firing, recoiling from the discharge, replacing the spent -cartridge with a full one. The pungent taste of burnt powder penetrated -the throat. We sweat. We no longer feared. We pulled the trigger; we -were fighting, we were defending the soil, the trench, the sector, in a -blind rage. _They should not take it!_ They should give up; they should -fall back. We would kill them all rather than permit their feet to -contaminate the spot we were guarding. - -This endured for more than an hour, this insane uproar of shrieking -voices, crashing cannon, cracking rifles; while Rheims, in flames threw -to the wind her streamers of light. - -We had no accurate idea of the battle as a whole. Each man acted for -himself, for the little corner of ground in range of his rifle, for -the piece of trench which he was holding. At one side, the Boches -jumped into the trench, cut the throats of the nearest men, then fell, -themselves stabbed by bayonets. At another point they penetrated -the barbed-wire entanglements, remained caught there, struggling to -free themselves, and were cut to pieces by our fire. Farther on, our -shells crushed them. We were scarcely conscious of it. We elbowed our -neighbors, we exchanged encouragement, we shrieked when we would speak. -We were so intense, so full of fury, that many were frothing when -commanded to desist. The underofficers exhausted themselves in crying -halt, and had to shake each man to awaken him, to bring him to himself, -to make him understand. We felt exasperated. - -However, the cannonade was decreasing in violence. The gun-fire ceased, -reviving only at intervals. The stretcher-bearers ran up, took away -the wounded, picked up the tortured gas victims, whose lungs creaked -like the bellows of a forge. The battle was over. The Boches were -repulsed. In spite of their gas, in spite of the surprise, in spite -of their cannon, they left on the field before us almost a battalion: -sprawling corpses, dismembered like broken puppets; dead men who gaped -at the stars; wounded who soon were dead. Our losses were considerable, -theirs were much greater. Twenty of their number remained with us as -prisoners. Haggard and stunned, they were led to the rear for the -interrogatory. - - * * * * * - -“Well, how has it been?” I asked Berthet, as I gripped his hand. “It -was superb!” he responded. There was a hole in his coat. “Not touched?” -“No, a ball just missed taking me off.” He said it with a calm which -I admired. He concealed from me the fact that he had breathed the -abominable vapors. - -After all, it was only a local action on our line. It was not, in the -generally accepted sense, a battle. All of us have seen much greater -since then. However, on account of the gas, this first engagement is -vividly present in our memory, a recollection never to be effaced. It -was an encounter so strange! That foul vapor which enveloped the earth, -which ate its way into the fibre of the clothing we wore, corroded and -withered the leaves on the trees, and changed the aspect of God’s sane -creation into a distorted image of hell, will remain forever one of -the deepest infamies of the Germans. After contact with this poisoned -cloud, nothing retained its original appearance. The arms were red -without being rusty, the color of uniforms was changed. There were very -few of our men suffering from gun or bayonet wounds, but whole mounds -of those who died in convulsions: poor, twisted dead, who agonized in -dying; so disfigured their own mothers could not have recognized them. -Some of them were wringing their hands, others were swallowing stones, -others seemed to be rammed into the earth like stakes. This was not -war; it was worse. This was not the rain of bullets which pierce the -flesh, or break a skull in passing. This was not the brutal shell, -which bursts to fragments, scatters in a thousand directions and mows -down a group of men as gayly as a child knocks down a house of cards. -This was another matter. It was the very air turned accomplice of the -enemy; blinded eyes, frothing mouth, rotted lungs, a breast on fire; -every effort exerted redoubling the torture; the rescuer struck down -above the man he attempted to save; the officer suffering like his men; -the telephone-operator seized in his shelter, the courier arrested in -his course, all alike smothered and struggling with death. This was a -breath from the depths of hell, this diabolic invention, which that -monster, the German Junker, forced men to choose: weapon of meanness -and treachery, which sets at naught the valor of both defender and -assailant! - - - - -VII - -RHEIMS - - -When the life fantastic becomes the life ordinary, when one is at -the centre of prodigious events which unroll more rapidly than the -picture on the screen, and appear in ever-new guise, the astonishing -thing becomes a natural thing; the unheard-of becomes the expected. -A distortion of sensation is produced; the brain registers only that -which surpasses the climax of what has already been experienced; as on -mountain heights, peaks which have been surmounted appear low, and the -climber feels that only those are high which are still above him. - -Thus it became the ordinary thing for Berthet and me, as for our -companions, to live in the extraordinary and the supernatural. We felt -quite at home in it, and moved at our ease in a situation which, for -him at least, would have been untenable a few short months before. We -had become soldiers like the others, eating, when we could, a meagre -and coarse ration; sleeping when it was possible; in constant danger -of death, but avoiding it apparently by instinct. We lived with no -more care than the beasts of the field; with beards long, hands dirty. -We dug in the earth, as did all the rest; we watched at the parapets -with eyes puffed from lack of sleep. Uncouthness grew upon us, and we -appeared, at dawn, in the glacial cold, muffled up in pieces of cloth -and skins of animals; hairy, hideous, and fearsome. - -We were on patrol duty one night. Creeping about, we passed the -listening-post and advanced on No Man’s Land. Like savages, we stalked -the enemy for hours, trying to surprise some unknown men: soldiers -like ourselves, who might be lost between the lines; men anxious like -ourselves, and like ourselves afraid of death and suffering. Then we -returned, annoyed to come back without having bagged a foe; regretful -that we had not been able to spill some man’s blood. However---- - -“However”--thus we reasoned. - -Often, in the evening, when we were free between periods of sentry -duty, we would delay our share of heavy sleep wherein one forgot -all; when one lay stretched like a beast in a stable, on a little -straw in the depth of a retreat, poorly protected from the wind and -the shells. We would walk the hundred paces of the length of the -communication-trench, conversing. - -The night enveloped us; the night palpitating with the noise of battle. -We could hear the crack of rifles and the roar of cannon. Sometimes -the flying steel whirled over our heads with its weird whistle. Some -corvées passed, heavily loaded, carrying materials for attack and -defense. Habituated as we were to the sight and sound, oblivious to -the familiar racket, we walked quite tranquilly, in spirit far removed -from our surroundings, expanding our thoughts and confiding our dreams. -All sorts of subjects shared our attention: art, history, literature, -politics, we touched upon them all, commented upon all as if we had -been a hundred leagues away from the war, as if no other occupation -had the least claim upon us. The contrast was so vivid, the difference -so striking, that sometimes we stopped and exclaimed in amazement at -ourselves. - -By this time we had no childish vanity in the matter. Our sense of -pride was rather above it. We called no one’s attention to our calm -indifference. No! It was night, we were lost in the shadows, no one -could see us. We were simply relaxing our brains in withdrawing our -thought from the present; in leading it, by means of conversation, -toward the past and the future. - -One particular desire which we held in common was frequently mentioned: -we wished to visit Rheims, which was quite near. Our regiment formed -a part of the troops of coverture of the city. However, we could not -enter the town without permission, and this could not be obtained -without good reason. We finally found an excuse, and the rest was easy. - -One morning, armed with our permit, we set out. The expedition was not -without danger. For several months, since we had occupied the trenches -at the north of the city, we had known that the Boches were obstinately -bent upon its destruction. Every day brought its rain of shells. We -could see the flames shoot up, we could see writhing columns of smoke -mount to the heavens. No matter; the visit tempted us, and the most -violent storm of iron and fire would not have deterred us. - -So we went. We prepared our minds, as we thought, for every -possible surprise; we were not prepared for what we were destined -to find. Approaching by the Faubourg Cires, we entered a ruin. We -saw nothing but demolished houses, entire streets swept by machine -fire, gnawed by flames, blackened by smoke. Tottering façades, -holding their equilibrium by a miracle, supported the skeletons of -apartment-buildings, in whose walls blackened shell-holes seemed -like dead eyes opened on a void. Heaps of plaster and stone fallen -from the walls rendered passage difficult and impeded our progress. -Occasionally, an entire section of wall would swing slowly, balance -for an instant, then fall in a cloud of dust. It was a house in its -death-throes. - -After passing this scene of desolation, we entered a quarter still -intact, where, to our stupefaction, the city came to life again. There -only a few injuries to buildings were visible. Here and there a shell -had wounded a structure. The general appearance of everything was quite -peaceful. The inhabitants followed the usual routine of life with -apparent serenity. Open shops offered their merchandise. Young girls -came and went smiling. A pastry-cook spread out his tarts and nougats; -a stationer displayed his pencils and office supplies; a haberdasher’s -window was filled with collars and cravats. Nothing indicated war. -People went up and down about their business; old women gossiped on -their door-step, and peddlers cried their wares. - -Around the Place Royale, which was absolutely in ruins, cabmen awaited -a fare, stroking the manes of their bony horses, or discussing the -price received for the last trip. In the public gardens mothers watched -their little ones at play, caressing them or scolding them, as if their -entire life were assured, as if no thought of anything unusual entered -their brain. - -Was it bravery, indifference, habit? Who knows? We were dumbfounded. -What! In a city crushed by shells, tortured by fire, subjected to the -most barbarous treatment, how was it possible to be so matter-of-fact? -Could the life of the populace continue in its usual channels, -indifferent to danger, removed from fear, calm as in time of peace? - -We must look closer to perceive under the surface the explanation of -the anomaly; everywhere, people seated or standing observed a patient -discipline in using only one side of the street: the one exposed to the -direct shock of the shells. Only a city long exposed to bombardment -could conceive such a mechanical precaution. It is a protection, -because the shell, in falling, bursts; its splinters fly in the -opposite direction to that taken by the projectile. - -We soon saw the working out of the principle. Attracted by an open -shop, we made some purchases at our leisure. A sinister shriek crossed -the sky, and a racket followed. “They are bombarding,” calmly remarked -the young woman who served us. She listened. “It is at the cathedral.” -Then she continued, most unconcernedly: “Let us see! Some braid? It is -at the other counter. You get the buttons here, and the wool and the -thread. Is that all you wish? That makes a franc sixty.” - -Another roar, this time nearer. The street was immediately deserted. So -quickly that a stranger could not observe the action, every passer-by -disappeared. Every one went underground, somewhere, into an open -cellar. It happened as naturally and quickly as in ordinary times when -people find shelter from a sudden shower. They knew that the hour to -seek cover had arrived. The shower of steel would last until evening, -and would not cease until a new quarter was obliterated. It was the -turn of one _faubourg_, therefore the others would escape this time. -Consequently, outside the zone attacked, existence might continue as -usual. - -Already the rescue squads were running in the direction of the falling -shells, as resolute and well disciplined as when at drill. Duty called -them. They responded, “Present,” without fear or hesitation: down there -people were dying under the ruins of their homes. The stretcher-bearers -rescued the injured in the midst of the tumult. If they had been -praised for their heroism, they would have resented the praise as an -insult. - -When recovered from our first astonishment, Berthet and I set out. This -martyred city, so tragic and so calm, seemed to us superhuman. We found -it beautiful. We felt a desire to weep, to cry out, as we looked at its -reddened walls, its yawning windows and wrecked roofs. We went about -gently, as one walks in a place of suffering and sorrow. In our rather -aimless wandering, reverent as in a sacred place, we came suddenly in -front of the cathedral. - -It rose before us like a queen, at the turn of the street. The lofty -façade, stained by fire in shades of gold and blood, lifted its proud -head to the sky. The towers were like two arms stretched imploringly -toward heaven: one reddened by fire, the other clothed by the centuries -in the blue veil which shrouds ancient monuments. Between them the -shattered rose-window seemed to moan distractedly: a silent sob. That -dumb mouth in that fire-reddened face seemed to cry with such hatred, -with such anguish, that we stopped, gripped by the sight. - -It was there that the great Crime had written its name! There, where -France had inscribed the most sacred things of her history; there, by -the cradle of the nation, on the book always open, the assassin had -left his thumb-print; his infamy remained inscribed in each gaping -wound, on each fallen statue. The high towers attested to heaven the -execrable violence. The roof was gone, like the scalp which the savage -tears from the head of his victim. The eyes of God could search to the -flagstones and judge with one glance the foul deed. - -Outside the church the _Place_ was gloomy, but sublime. By an effect of -fatality, it had become the dwelling-place of the holy relics driven -from the interior. The tabernacle was no longer in the heart of the -cathedral, but scattered in fragments around it: the choir encircled -the church. Fragments of stained-glass replaced the organ-pipes, and -the wind moaned through the leaden groins, and chanted the dirge of the -sacred spot. - -Cathedral! Church thrice holy! The murderer tried to destroy thee: -he has given thee eternal life. He tried to gag and choke thee: -but the voice from thy tortured throat resounds higher and clearer -throughout the world. In his stupidity he believed he could annihilate -thee: instead, he has glorified thee. Cathedral! A song in stone, a -hymn--hymn too ethereal for the human ear to catch; a poem of beauty -and light, which the sodden Boche thought to efface, but which stands -resplendent, a witness of his shame, before humanity and eternal -righteousness. Divine, immortal cathedral! Men have never created a -human prayer more sublime than art thou, bombarded. The German shell -believed it had power to destroy thee. It has crushed thine arches and -broken thy wings. Thou hadst no need of wings to soar. As a spirit of -light thou hast floated above the city; now thou rulest over the city -the war, and France; as a symbol, thou art resplendent over all the -world. Rheims, thou wert the shrine of France; broken, thou art become -her emblem. Thou art no longer ours alone. Thy majesty rises unshaken, -triumphant, a divine intelligence facing savage cruelty; a barrier -touched, but not destroyed, defying bestiality. - -We had no words to express our emotions. We walked about, in silent -exaltation. From its purple shroud, still smoking, the enormous -basilique spoke to us. Great scenes in history were enacted in its -sacred precincts: all the sacred kings, the noble sons of France; -Clovis baptized by St. Remy; Charles VII led by Jeanne d’Arc, whose -bronze image still defies the enemy from the porch of the church; -Charles X, last king anointed in this august place--all, all were there -as restless phantoms; powerful, saintly, silent, looking on. We were -satiated with emotion, bewildered by a hundred beauties: the light -through the broken arches, the fragments of art treasures in the dust -at our feet, the scintillating glass on the flagstones. We went away, -fairly giddy with its impassioned grandeur. - -The increased cannonade directed our course. It was impossible to -remain longer. We crossed the forsaken park and made a détour around -the deserted station. Behind us lay a city of silence, but her -martyrdom continued incessantly. Shrill whirrings made the air quiver. -Shells growled above the roofs, leaped the streets, crossed the -squares, threatened, fell and exploded. There was a sudden crash of -collapsing floors and of tumbling masonry. A quarter, somewhere in the -city, was being pounded to dust and débris; an entire quarter was being -hammered out of existence. Clouds of plaster filled the air; great -stones crumbled. - -Families were unable to escape. Their homes, which should have -sheltered them, were thrown wide open to the brutal dangers of the -street. The invalid’s bed tottered in the ruins, the baby was thrown -from its cradle. The old man died at the side of the youth, the wife -in the arms of her husband, the child at its mother’s breast. The -criminal extermination, determined upon and planned, was completing -its frightful work, was blotting out a city, was beating to death a -country. The Boche, squatting on the commanding heights, aimed his guns -with ease, made sure of his fire and picked out his prey. He struck -practically without risk to himself, sure to hit a target in the chaos -of roofs, to demolish and to destroy. A town--what an immense quarry! -The shell may fall where it will: it is sure to kill. The explosion -will burst in some window, will cross some bedchamber, will find some -victim. A town is a quarry more easily sighted than a battery. It is -huge, it is immovable, it cannot reply. One can destroy it without -danger to oneself. - -Therefore the shells fell unerringly; only the flames and smoke made -reply.... - -We paid it no further attention. - - * * * * * - -My poor Berthet, charming companion, and sharer of so many -unforgettable experiences, was unable to follow the regiment through -all its struggles. One day, while in the Rheims sector, he suffered -severely in a gas attack and the physicians ordered him to the rear for -treatment in one of the resting-camps. Gradually the soft air of France -healed his tortured lungs and started him on the path of recovery. The -German poison had, however, severely shaken his constitution and the -cure was slow. He was unable to rejoin us for the tragic trials at -Verdun. - - - - -VIII - -DISTRACTIONS - - -Existence in the trenches is characterized by a monotony that soon -becomes a burden. It is made up of waiting and work: work in which a -man is by turns dirt-digger, sentinel, carpenter, and porter. There -is much time for rest and repose. It is a special type of life, which -recalls that of the sieges of olden days, when armies sat long months -at a time facing each other. One does not fight all the time. The vigil -is constant, but the struggle is not. There is the incessant watching -of the field in front, the unrelaxed tension of stalking the enemy; and -at the rear the staleness of inaction. - -What is there to do? Sleep, certainly. Then find amusement, for the -time is long. The hours move slowly, night follows day and day night -without bringing change. Therefore, one must exercise his ingenuity. - -One writes a lot of letters. There is always a relative to enlighten, -or a sweetheart to console, or a mother to entertain. Letters arrive -which are read and reread. Then the newspapers bring their limited -ration of news. We discuss their contents. We learn that the submarine -warfare is extending; that the Zeppelins have gone over England; that -the Bulgars are attacking the Roumanians; that a great parliamentary -speech has explained to the world the causes of the upheaval. Thus we -kill a few more minutes. Then ennui returns: dull tediousness that puts -the thumbscrews on the brain; homesickness for the distant fireside, -for the old life renounced for war; yearning for the past, still near -and yet so far. One wanders about and knows not what to do. One fellow -has some playing-cards and opens a game. We smoke, and dream, and -sew, and clean our arms. We await our turn at sentry duty. It rains. -We yawn. The sun comes out, one risks his life to pay a visit to his -neighbors. The picturesque ceases to be, by reason of familiarity. -One sees nothing of that which at first fixed his attention. The deep -trench where crazy grasses hang is a road only too well trodden. The -mess is stale, the card-game stupid. One is bored to death and utterly -worthless. - -Then the inveterate wag intervenes. He sings, he “joshes.” He brings -a laugh. The dying conversation revives. Those who were dozing sit up -again and take notice. Circles form. Each one tells a story, and the -long faces spread into smiles. Torpor is banished for a moment. The -man who was cutting a cane with his pocket-knife exhibits it. It is -fine and much admired. The man who hollowed out an inkstand from a fuse -brings it forth. His work is curious, dainty, and ornamental: bravo! A -painter is there, an artist, who brings out his album; he has a hundred -drawings, warm with color. Each man would like to possess a copy. That -is the end: there is nothing more. All this is too brief, and the time -is too long. We cast about for something new. - -In a hut some one installs a museum. It is a collection of souvenirs -of the field of battle. The gathered trophies hang on the walls. A -Boche helmet is near a freakishly twisted splinter. A German trooper’s -sword-belt hangs near a saw-bayonet. There are cartridge-boxes, -fragments of guns, the button of a tassel from the sabre of a buried -German officer. Every one is interested in the work and brings his -contribution to enrich the collection. It does not belong to any one -in particular, but is owned jointly. It is the pride of the sector and -the joy of the regiment. It receives the _casse-tête_ picked up after -the last hand-to-hand scrimmage with the Boches; a reservoir of liquid -fire, whose bearer lies somewhere near the trench that he sought to -enter; some fragments of grenades--anything which one might pick up on -a kilometre of ground furrowed by projectiles, dug up by shells, or -ploughed by cannon-balls. Curious conglomeration! Glorious scraps of -iron! Mute witnesses of the fury of men, implements of their ferocity! - -At another spot some man who loves the cultivation of the land cares -for a wee patch of garden. A garden, yes, that is what I said. In the -midst of the trenches. He has planted some pansies, a sprig of stock, -and three clumps of pinks. He waters them every morning, and watches -them carefully. Woe to any careless foot that might crush them! These -flowers, in the sombre surroundings, breathe perfume and poetry. - -At another spot a fight between a dog and a rat is pulled off. A -lieutenant sets a fox-terrier on a promising hole of the rodents. -A group of men look on eagerly. One, armed with a pick, enlarges -the opening. Another removes a stone which was in the way. The dog, -trembling with excitement, sniffs, paws, digs, buries his nose -in the earth, scratches, reaches the animal at the bottom of his -retreat--seizes him! Good dog! He shakes the rat furiously, breaking -his back. The victor is applauded and petted. - -Simple distractions, these! I will pass them by quickly. There is -the man who makes chains of welded wire; the one whose hobby is -photography. One mysterious fellow amuses himself with cookery. There -are some secret pursuits, like that of the inveterate hunters, who -place game-traps at twilight and at dawn endanger their lives to go -out to empty them. There are fishermen who drop lines in the canal. A -hundred avocations are followed on the edge of the war, side by side -with the service, in range of the cannon and punctuated by shells. - -I had my occupation, as well as the others, you may be sure. -I published a newspaper: a great affair. A newspaper, in the -trenches--that savors at once of a trade and of an adventure. Title: -_The War Cry_, appearing once a month. Every month, then, I had a -problem: to get paper. An obliging cyclist had to bring it from the -village on the day fixed. He left it at the foot of a sapling, no -matter what the uproar overhead; no matter how large the edition of -shrapnel messages from the Germans. Oh, honest pulp, intended for a -simple life, into what scenes of adventure art thou thrust! - -In one trench the print-shop was twenty feet underground. It was -illuminated by three night-lamps, set in a triangle. At another place -the shop was on a level with the surface of the ground, and the -bombardment scattered sand and pebbles over the proof. At another -time it was installed in a bedroom of a ruined house. As there was no -roof to catch the rain, it fell in large tears on the printer and the -printing. No matter! The number was issued, illustrated. It was eagerly -sought, and the copies circulated briskly, carrying gratuitous joy, -smoothing knit brows, bringing a laugh, and, finally, carrying to the -rear the gayety of the front. - -When I look back upon these labors, they seem to me childish. In their -place, they were amazing. The Great Tragedy held us constantly in its -clutch. The man who was polishing a ring for his fiancée did not finish -it: that very evening a ball or a piece of shell shattered the work and -destroyed the worker. The man who was carving a walking-stick was a -mutilated wreck before his work was finished. The danger was incessant. -In these occupations we sought distraction from the thought of it all, -but one could never ward off that which fate held in store for him. -It was an intermission snatched from ennui; a truce; and when one was -doing fairly well, thinking no more of physical discomfort and mental -anguish, suddenly the cannon barked, the alarm was sounded, and the -dance of hell was on again! - -“Outside: trench thirteen!” - -Then we ran. We left the rings and walking-sticks and the newspaper. -_The War Cry_--It was the real war cry now. The Boche had come upon -us by stealth. It might be night or day, morning or evening. He -slid, he crept, he crouched, he jumped into our trench. We must -hack him to pieces with grenades. Then we must put up again a fallen -splinter-shield, reconstruct an observation-post, open again a -filled-up trench. The shells came like gusts of wind, the shrapnel -flew, smoked, and stunk. - -Or, at another time, it was our turn to leap out, run to the assault, -take a trench, hold it, and guard it. - -It was necessary, from time to time, to go to the rear that we might -enjoy some real security and relaxation. - -The relief! Who will ever adequately sing its praise? It came at night, -ordinarily. Two or three days before the event the sector saw strangers -arrive for a visit, officers and sergeants, who looked around and took -instructions. This is the way they were shown about: - -“Look out at this point. This part of the trench seems to be in easy -range of the guns.” - -“This is a bad corner. Torpedoes hit it every morning. Go by quickly -over there, for you can be seen.” - -“Every man who passes this spot is saluted by a bullet. We have some -wounded every evening.” - -They took notes, made observations and inquiries. We looked upon their -activities with satisfaction. They were the forerunners of comrades -who were about to come, in their turn, to enjoy a period in the open -country--underground. They never came too soon. Already we were making -up our packets, putting our affairs in order, buckling our knapsacks, -filling our side-bags. - -We departed fewer than we came. We left some chums in the earth, under -humble mounds marked with a cross. There was one man surprised when -on patrol--he was carried back dying in the arms of his companions. -Another, disembowelled by a grenade, fell at his post without a cry. We -had known these men, we had loved them. One was gay, one was grave. All -were loyal comrades whom we would never see again. When killed they had -remained all day lying at their posts. A cloth was thrown over them, -concealing the face and partly covering the body. In the evening when -the shadows fell, we put them in their graves. - -It was very simple. If possible, the section surrounded the grave, a -rough excavation hollowed in the dirt thrown up from the trenches. -Sometimes, not always, some one murmured a prayer. The body was -lowered, and the dead went his way saluted as a hero by the cannon. -That was all. It was sad and impressive, simple as an unpremeditated -gesture. Some one put a bunch of field-flowers on the fresh mound. The -soldier’s cap was placed on the wooden cross. Then into a bottle was -slipped the name of the departed--dead that France might live, fallen -at his post of honor. Immediately we returned to our places, to watch -and to fight. To-day it was he. To-morrow it would be one’s self. - -The relief came by following the communication-trenches. Curious -concerning their new post, the fresh arrivals asked many questions: - -“Pretty nifty here, isn’t it?” - -“Where are the kitchens?” - -We informed them as rapidly as possible. We wished that they would -arrive more quickly. It seemed as if we would perish in waiting for -them, and that the danger increased by their coming. They made a lot of -noise. They went back and forth, they talked. Surely the Boche would -hear them and let loose his cannon. - -In fact, that is what often occurred. Then the brutal shells added to -the disorder. Ignorant of the shelters, lost in the thick darkness, -the new arrivals flattened themselves out where they could. Their -non-commissioned officers reassembled them and led them on in jostled -disorder. It seemed that the confusion would never end, that we would -have to stay there, all mixed together like tangled thread from an -unwound spool. It seemed that the deadly hammering would annihilate us -all, down in the earth. Then the officers brought order from chaos. The -first line took their places. At the posts of listening the new men -replaced the old. - -“Notice that recess: that is where the Boches send their love-tokens.” - -“Do you see that black pile over yonder? Behind it is a German -machine-gun.” - -Down in the shelters the new men were making themselves at home, the -departing men were gathering up their belongings. - -“Good luck to you!” - -“Don’t worry about that!” - -Then we set out. We reached the line of supply, and crossed a clearing -filled with artillery. We could breathe more easily. We were going -away, toward repose. At last, in the darkness, we found the road. -Conversation began, pipes were lighted. We were getting farther away -from the tunnels, from the depths of the earth, and from death. Though -still menaced by shells, we felt liberated. We came to a demolished -village occupied by moving shadows: men who remained at the rear, in -the accessory service of food supply and munitions. Lanterns bobbed -here and there. Some horses hitched by the road switched their tails -in friendly salute. We went on. We met an ammunition-train going at -full speed in a terrible racket of wheels and oaths. Still we marched. -We descended a slope. Over yonder lay the Promised Land, spared by the -gods of war: where the crops were growing; where the houses had roofs, -the villages had inhabitants, the barns had straw; where there was wine -to drink, girls to look at, and merchandise to buy. It was all there. -We knew it. The recollections of our former visit came to mind. One -hoped to find the cantonment running on as in the last sojourn; la mère -Laprot, who knew so well how to cook an omelet, and big Berthe, whose -teeth were so white when she smiled. - -One gave an energetic hunch to the knapsack. One recognized every tree, -every turn of the road. We were getting nearer. One more pause and we -would be there. We must still climb a bluff, steep as a ladder, leading -to the plateau. We climbed--for everything can be overcome. - -At last we arrived. The village awaited us with open arms. We entered, -and were at home. - -The shed was hospitable as ever. We felt of the straw, and laid aside -our accoutrement. The arms and leather trappings made a little pile at -the head of each man’s place. Blankets came out of the knapsacks. How -delicious to stretch at full length on the straw! A few moments more -and a hundred sonorous snores, deep and diversified, blended their -antiphones under the worm-eaten roof. - -Life entered the village with the troops. From early morning the -streets swarmed. Wagons lined up under the trees and unpacked -their loads. Horses chewed their hay while switching their tails -contentedly, or enjoyed long drinks at the trough. The blacksmith -hammered the glowing horseshoes in the midst of a smoky haze. The -buffets were full. The cold-meat shop was invaded. The grocer was -besieged until he emptied his boxes. It was a rush, a battle, an -assault. - -“Some sausage!” - -“Some thread!” - -“Some soap!” - -“How much for this cheese?” - -“I’ll take that box!” - -The coins jingled. Happy laughter responded to happy smiles. Wine -flowed. At the river laundry the surface of the stream was billowy -white with the suds from well-washed clothing. With a drum for a chair, -the barber was busy with his razor. At another place shower-baths -completed the work of renovation. New faces emerged, fresh-skinned -and wide-eyed. The exuberant joy of youth burst forth into gay cries -and bodily freedom. Visits were exchanged. The smoking kitchens were -sending out delicious odors. The non-coms were kept busy hunting for -their men who had disappeared, flown away. - -By noon, however, the troop was again in order. In the square the -soldiers were in line, with arms polished and garments clean. The roll -was called. Their appearance was noted, their losses of equipment were -made good. The report was read. We learned that such an one was cited -for bravery, that the general was pleased, that we would remain eight -days without molestation. - -Then the gayety increased. We organized to make the most of our -vacation. Some men with a bright idea arranged a theatre and prepared -a concert. Two sawhorses supported the stage, which we trimmed with -leaves. We draped the flag of the _mairie_ overhead. The programme was -quickly arranged, as we had a considerable talent in the regiment. - -On the day appointed for the performance chairs were placed for the -higher officers, the chief of the battalion, and the captains. The -privates noisily disposed of themselves as chance permitted. There -were spectators roosting on the wheels of carts, others perched on -straw-stacks; wherever a body could hold its equilibrium, there was a -body. An improvised orchestra opened the entertainment. Then several -singers followed with comic songs. The applause was tumultuous, as -high spirits mounted higher. We forgot the war, at that moment, and -its suffering and privation. A ballad touched our deeper sentiment. -A monologue was punctuated with laughter. The hilarious faces of the -spectators told of their pleasure--the joy of living, with youth and -health. We relaxed our tense nerves, and became human beings again. -There were no more shells, no more mud, no more guard duty, no more -fatigue. The tragedy had paused; and, if one had not heard the growling -rage of the cannon bent upon its work of death and destruction, one -would have believed that there could be no more pleasant existence. - -On other days there were games in the open air. Like children freed -from school the men ran in the meadows, tussled in a game of prisoner’s -base, or played leap-frog. The suppleness of body, the litheness of -movement, were such as to inspire admiration. These were no longer -soldiers, but graceful athletes, with agile muscles and solid torso. -Under the trees gently waving in the breeze, with the clear sky of -France above a charming countryside, the scene evoked the picture of -the athletic games of antiquity. Not even the group of philosophers was -lacking, walking up and down and arguing. - -Thus the hours ran on, peaceful and all too short. The troop took a -fresh breath, renewed its spirit, calmed excited nerves, found new -courage and a magnificent enthusiasm. The cruel remembrance of dark -hours, of horrible spectacles, of losses, became dim. We found again a -vibrant love of life. The soul-sickness which had grown upon us at the -parapets, under the shells, melted away in the new environment, in the -joy of a recreation dearly won. - -The week of vacation was completed. They were new men, refreshed and -invigorated, who fell into line when the hour arrived. In the darkness -we retraced the road by which we had come. We were returning to the -battle, we were re-entering the tunnels, the dugouts, the redans, -the trenches, the parallels. Now we were the relief, in our turn. -We took our place. We brought back with us arms, food, replenished -cartridge-boxes, new men to fill the vacancies in our ranks. More than -that, we brought back valor, patience, faith, and a spirit reborn. - -We entered again the domain of death, again we began the agony. - - - - -IX - -THE BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE - - -A year had passed. The Marne and the Yser had gone into history. We -knew that enormous preparations were in progress behind our lines. They -are always known. The symptoms are perfectly visible. The artillery -is massed, the various operations are pushed more vigorously, new -precautions are taken. - -Vague rumors are afloat. Every one wishes to appear informed, and the -strangest forecasts, the most absurd reports are passed from mouth to -mouth, originating no one knows where. - -“We are going clear to the Rhine, this time!” - -“What! do you think? As far as the Meuse, and already----” - -“The cavalry is massed at the rear; and if the cavalry passes, the line -is already smashed. Then, _mon vieux_, how far do you think we’ll go?” - -The war was changing its aspect. Germany, checked at the Marne, seemed -to have an unsuspected force. Her regiments were renewed continuously. -They seemed to spring from the ground, an uncounted host, capable -of breaking over any barrier. Unprepared France, in accepting the -combat, profited by the period of “digging in,” to cast big guns and -manufacture shells. A colossal effort galvanized her hope. People -repeated the famous words of Joffre: “Je les grignote.”[F] - -We were confident: Germany could not win. She would be beaten as soon -as we could collect guns and ammunition in sufficient quantities. Some -words of the generals came down to the ranks. Gallieni had said: “They -are in the trenches--they are lost!” - -We believed it, we were sure of it. The humblest cook, in his smoky -_abri_, spattered with his sauces, his blackened face beaming with -smiles, had no more doubt of it than the major-general in his -automobile. - -Many furloughs had been granted. Each man had been allowed to visit -his family, and had spread assurance of success in return for the -festivities his friends had prepared for him. No doubts found lodgment -in the minds of the people. On tenter-hooks the country awaited -victory. Trembling old mothers believed it, tearful wives put faith -in it, fathers felt convinced of it. At last we would be avenged, we -would punish the enemy’s infamous arrogance, we would chastise him, we -would crush him. We were going to crunch him by an enormous pressure, -overthrow his system of trenches, advance, break his line; and then, -with one burst of valor, we would hurl him back whence he came--into -his deep forests, as far as the Rhine; perhaps still farther, to his -lair. Every one knew the good news, counted on it, awaited it with -impatience. - -People liked the bearing of the soldiers. All were delighted to see -them so robust, so hardened; more alert than at the beginning, more -viril, more manly. The warrior’s helmet graced his forehead like an -aureole. The men were fêted and showered with tokens of affection. Long -trains brought them home--so ardent, and young, and splendid; shouting -their joy in the stations, passing through towns with the air of a -victor. How the women admired them! They were treated (in advance) -as liberators. Those sober people who still were apprehensive of the -outcome, who reckoned up the future and calculated the chances, were -looked upon with a reproachful eye. This time it was certain: we would -pass! - -The opening came the 20th of September. A furious storm of artillery -saluted the dawn, and set the thunder rolling. It was a prodigious -simoon. The sky cracked with the terrible, hot breath; the earth itself -bubbled. A deluge of red-hot iron fell. It was more than a noise: it -was a tempest, a gigantic roaring, the forge of Vulcan in full action; -an entire sector of the front bursting into flame. What a fantastic -tornado! All calibers of shells shrieked together. No single voice of -cannon could be distinguished in the concert. They were blended in -one roll, as if a god had sounded the charge on a gigantic drum. The -avalanche of steel fell on the enemy’s breastworks, spattered over the -intervening space, let loose billows of smoke, dust, and flames. The -very earth seemed to cry out to heaven, as it was pounded to powder and -scorched by the fire. Entire sections of trench walls leaped into the -air; a giant plough turned over the tunnels. A heavy cloud formed, -grew thicker, rolled over the battle-field. The passing hours augmented -the uproar. No sooner did the climax appear to be reached than the -tumult increased afresh. - -Massed near the field of carnage, the bivouacked troops were in -readiness. Each company had its rôle, and each was ready. Each knew at -what hour to join the dance. They were going to pierce through, they -would pass! Comrades exchanged encouragement and last promises. All -hoped to survive, and pursue the routed foe in a sweeping victory. - -Our regiment, like others, awaited the call. It had no active part -in the festivity, but was present. This was for us a poignant grief. -In our sector, not a sound. The cannon were as silent as if every -living thing had become a mere spectator of the drama. As the roaring -increased in volume from minute to minute, we listened. We divined the -scene. We could follow it in the clouds, and in the sounds carried by -the breeze. We were like curious, listening neighbors who hear the -people next door quarrel and fight. The Germans opposite us remained -silent also, and listened, like ourselves. - -Battle of Champagne! It had not yet a name. It held all the hope of -France, a single, united, colossal WILL. For five days France could -only listen to the panting of an army in travail, and held her breath. - -The 25th of September, at 9.15 in the morning, the first line left the -trenches; bounded forward, hurled themselves on the enemy. Another -line followed, and another, and another. Less than an hour later, -everywhere, even well back at the rear, messages of victory came. The -telephone passed on the joyful news, distributed it to the end of its -lines. In our ranks, where we awaited our turn with arms at rest, we -breathed with high-swelling hope. We defied the enemy, that day. We -looked at his lines, marked his location. To-morrow, perhaps, we would -be where he was to-day. We would command his crushed-in shelter, his -hiding-places opened by the shells; we would be the victors, and he -would be driven before us. Oh, yes, we were quite sure. Already, with -pricked-up ears, we could perceive the advance. Our cannon pierced his -lines. It roared elsewhere than was usual; already, opposite us, the -German had turned. - -And yet--no! The accursed race has the tricks of a cowardly beast. -To the chivalrous courage which offers itself for an open test of -prowess, the Boche opposes stealthy ambush, burrowing in the ground. -For the noble _élan_ of our men, for their impetuous passion, for their -valor, the Teutonic sneak sets a snare: close to the ground, about -a foot high or less, a fine copper-wire was concealed in the grass, -and electrified. Our heroes were ensnared in that web. In vain their -assaults were renewed. In vain they accomplished a hundred exploits. -Close to the earth the traitorous wire caught their ankles, sent the -electric shock through their legs, threw them down and burned them. - -But we--we were still ignorant of all this, and we awaited our turn. In -the falling night we saw the neighboring sky light up. The enemy’s fear -was read in the number of his rockets. He was afraid of our sortie, of -our onslaught and the outcome. - -Ah! Those hours! Those days, those four days of superhuman effort! -In what a fever we passed them! At any moment we could become -participants, and yet we remained there, inert, champing our bits. We -talked, that we might shake off our impatience; that we might hear -words, though their import went unnoticed. We talked without knowing -what we said, merely to hear ourselves say something. We waited for our -cue: nothing came! Near us our comrades were fighting in a veritable -furnace; they were living the apotheosis of supreme minutes, living the -glory of combat, amidst an uproar of shells: in suffering of the flesh -and in the beauty of sublime Adventure. We envied them. We mounted to -the extreme edge of the embankments, to the parapets of the trenches, -that we might see farther and follow more closely the movement of the -drama; that we might breathe the odor of battle and grasp its splendor. -We looked at the fire-reddened sky, where a hundred lightnings flashed -and a hundred thunders rolled. We desired, with all our souls, to enter -the strife, and at last force back the intrenched enemy--intrenched in -our land, in our soil. - -Since then many a battle has been fought. We have had Verdun, we have -had the Somme, we have had the Aisne, we have had almost each day a -unique page of history. Most certainly; but it was at this time that -we learned our lesson. We learned that patience is the weapon _par -excellence_ in a war such as this; whereas, at that time we still -conserved intact the old faith in French ardor. It was the first shock -following the Marne, after the defense of the Yser. It was the first -hope of breaking through. We were near it, so near we could almost -touch it, but we did not attain it. We were ready for death itself, but -the sacrifice was unavailing. The sacks loaded for the forward march, -the filled cartridge-cases, weighed heavily and more heavily when we -knew that the line remained where it had been, that the breach was not -sufficient, that an insignificant wire had stopped our onslaught and -protected the German. - -Nevertheless, the results were worth the effort. We counted our -prisoners by hundreds, we gathered from them much information. Yes; but -the gain was as nothing, so great had been our hopes. We were bound to -accept another hibernation, dig in the earth again, dig oftener and -longer; look forward to a war of greater duration, more murderous; -recommence the effort, accept not months, but years. - -The war ceased to be a human struggle. The mass of material became -appalling. It was no longer a shock of arms, but an industrial clash: -the machine substituted for the valor of a man, the contrivance become -demoniac. Cannon were made in enormous calibers. Old pieces were -replaced by huge-throated monsters, and one guessed that the wily -German, girt for supreme effort, was preparing something more, which -would make the early part of the war seem like child’s play. - -This is why the present war is impossible of narration. It is no longer -a battle of a certain date. It is not, as in former times, a moment -in history, the clash of two wills, the shock of two armed bodies of -men. It is a period in a century. It involves, not two peoples, but the -world. It is not a turning-point, but a transformation. It is almost a -state of society: “C’est la guerre.” - -Later, in an unforeseen epoch, in the year ----, it will be taught the -children as two dates: the war began August 2, 1914; it ended ----. -All the tragedy, all our cries, our furies, our agonies, our suffering -and death--all this, without name, blurred and indistinct, will be -contained between two numbers, and will mark two eons: that before the -War, that after the War. We will have fought and we will have wept; our -bodies will have been broken and our hearts will have bled, without -our being able to say, “It happened as I have told it,” for we will -not know just how it happened. We will be obliged to call to mind the -first day when grenades were used; the day torpedoes came to light; -the advent of the four-hundreds. Facts will be mixed in our troubled -memories. We will no longer recall all that happened to us. To be more -explicit, to create a truer picture, we will say: - -“At the Marne, we used rifles.” - -“In Champagne, we threw bombs.” - -“At Verdun--such cannon!” - -“On the Somme the shells flew so thick they met in mid-air.” - -“And then--and then, America came!” - - - - -X - -VERDUN - - -Those who have not been actively engaged in the war cannot form any -conception of it. When they hear a combatant speak of it, they say: - -“Then you fight all the time?” “No.” Whereupon they think: “Then in the -firing-line one is not really in much danger.” - -Ah, not so fast, good people! In this war, this new, present-day war, -the vigilance is continuous, the hand-to-hand struggle is not. Shells -fall unceasingly, but the open battle, the assault, is not without -interruption. Fortunately. - -Thus it was that after the German check, after the Crown of Nancy had -withstood the foe’s attack, since the Marne in fact, the sector at -Verdun remained quiet. - -It was a particularly good point. Here and there a sprinkle of shells, -then nothing more. There was fighting everywhere else, in Flanders, in -Artois, in Champagne, even in the Woëvre district, but not at Verdun. -The sector was so calm, that the only guard left there consisted of -Territorials, mostly older men. They worked without too much effort, -these fathers of families; without much disturbance, doing general work -of repairs about the fortifications, pipe in mouth, almost at peace in -the midst of war. In the winter of 1915 they shivered a little with -the cold; but the forest was near by, wood was abundant, and the cold -caused no great suffering. In the evening, down in the deep trenches, -in the well-heated huts, or in the powerful forts, such as Douaumont, -Vaux, Vachereauville, they basked in the heat as on a sunny day. They -looked at the falling snow and the landscape sleeping under its white -blanket. They swept the snow with branches of trees, blew on their -fingers a little, accepted their slight discomfort in patience. - -December passed, unusually cold; then January came, bringing the new -year. One more year gone, one less to come! Soon the beautiful days -would come, the spring, and--who knows?--perhaps peace. Germany was -tired of it all, near the end of her resources, and would give in. -Every one had his own definite idea on the subject. According to one, -peace would come before the end of June. Another thought the war would -last well toward the end of July. No one imagined that the following -winter---- - -February entered. At the listening-posts one received a surprise: one -noticed signs of life and activity among the enemy. - -“They are unloading iron.” - -“They are doing a lot of talking.” - -Bah! The Boches were putting their affairs in order. For more than a -year the opposing lines had been looking at each other without any -great exchange of blows. They felt quite well acquainted. The fellows -opposite were taking good care of their own bones. Some said they were -only the Landsturm, who were hibernating over there. - -In the town of Verdun the usual life continued. The cafés were so -crowded they turned people away; concerts and theatres were in full -swing; everywhere there was great animation, on account of the presence -of troops in increased numbers. One could not find a vacant room -to rent, and the price of provisions soared. All the towns and even -villages, where so many troops were spending their money, were infected -with this fever of success, of easy money, of the riches which rolled -in. Verdun was no exception to the rule. The citadel was choked with -troops: officers and privates, drinking and laughing. To be sure, when -the war goes well, there is no need to be austere. - -February reserved its own surprise. The short month, which amounts to -nothing at all, so short that it seems crippled, this one-armed month, -displayed in this particular year the malice of a dwarf. - -Suddenly the German line burst into flame. It was like a spark on a -train of powder. Twelve hundred cannon, perhaps more, crashed in chorus. - -“_Alerte!_ To arms!” - -Ah! Yes! Ground, hacked, mutilated, overrun, those easy-going papas, -the Territorials, fought the best they could; but the Argonne was -the accomplice of the Boche. The drive became irresistible. With -the shell-power of this massed artillery, the lines were broken and -obliterated. Under the storm of shells the trenches were levelled. -It was not an artillery battle, nor merely a violent attack. It was -rather an avalanche of explosives. The molten torrent, crackling with -sparks, fantastic, inhuman, swept all before it. All the massed Krupp -guns in diabolic fury spat their clots of flaming blood. The torn, -disembowelled earth leaped into the air and fell in dust. A bitter -smoke filled the air, dense on the plain and dense on the mountain -summit. Douaumont became a forge, Vaux was a fiery cyclone. Thavannes -was a scarlet glow, le Mort Homme was a continuous roar, and Verdun -heard the approaching thunder in apprehensive dread. - -At the call for reinforcements the regiments came in all haste, to bare -their breasts to the cannon. Fiercely the units clung to their ground, -placed their batteries, intrenched themselves, and offered stubborn -resistance. The enemy still advanced. The adversary was not an army -division but all Germany, with the dynasty, the Crown Prince, the old -Haseleer at their head. The defenders were again faced by the terrible -order, “Conquer or die,” as on the Marne and the Yser. Once more that -game was played. Once more it had the upper hand. Destiny, impassive, -looked on. - -Three kilometres of retreat brought the French to the Côte de Poivre. - -The Boche had orders to take, at all costs, the “strongest citadel of -France.” That success would mean the death of our country. It meant -all France exposed to the foe, Paris captured, Defeat. It meant Crime -triumphant, history violated, supremacy of brutal might, humanity’s -bonds reforged. It meant the flower of the Revolution crushed and -Liberty in chains. It meant the Kaiser’s boot on the neck of the world. - -“Do you wish aid?” came the message from England, already preparing to -send succor. France responded proudly: “No! I can hold my ground.” - -And she held it. The world knows it. - -An innumerable host, coated in dirty gray like a repulsive animal, -rushed on in its heavy, obstinate bravery; as an infuriated bull with -lowered head madly charges his foe, so the German brute in his blind -rage hurled himself toward us. In the path of the Hunnish Horde stood -French valor. THEY SHALL NOT PASS! Nor did they. But--what a struggle! - -All the slopes which form the heights of the Meuse and are the ramparts -of Gaul, resounded as a monster forge. There Vulcan had set up his -furnaces. Such a battle is too great to be recounted. It is the story -of Thavannes, whose immense tunnel of approach sheltered a whole -battalion at a time. It is the story of the fall of Douaumont; then the -siege of indomitable Vaux, dauntless, resisting, panting, quivering -like a drum. There the shells fall at the rate of ten per minute. -Raynal is commanding there: that is enough. Ten times the German hurled -his force against the fortifications, and ten times he fell back, -baffled. The garrison stood its ground in a furnace of the damned. New -men entered by a breach, followed a narrow path, found the postern -gate, and leaped in. For every man who came, came a shell. Overhead -twenty airplanes circled about, directing the fire, like vultures above -the eagle’s nest; while the cannon on the surrounding heights converged -their fire. - -Vaux! Heroic name, name never to be forgotten! Vaux, a rock burned -by acids, by powder, by the fires of hell. Vaux held out five days, -six days--eight days! The sky at night was a hot glow. The earth was -one continuous roar of explosions, enveloped in billows of smoke. -In that inferno men fought unto death. Trenches, shelters, stone, -and earthworks were wiped away by the shells; the battle left the -protection of the ground and swung into free space. - -The regiments were brought from the rear. They were supplied with -food and ammunition by a whole army of camions, which looked like an -immense serpent twisting along the road. Beyond Verdun the men entered -directly into the furnace. Their units melted in the very act of going -to the relief of their comrades at the firing-line. No matter! They -advanced, leaping from one shell-hole to another, up to the lines where -the survivors of the preceding regiments still held the assailant at -a distance. They were one man against ten. Of a hundred who set out, -only fifty arrived. They felt the reassurance given by the strength -of Vaux. Vaux hammered by blows--but Vaux still living, still French, -withstanding the tempest and defying the German. One felt there the -heart of steel in the fortress of rock. In addition to the battle all -about was the spectacle of a mass of masonry holding an army in check. - -Vaux fell. Only thirst ended its resistance. The enemy, stupefied to -count the handful of heroes who had thus held them at bay, rendered -the captives the highest honors. The Commandant Raynal kept his sword; -the Crown Prince, in humility before such glory, was glad to pay him -homage, and asked to be presented. - -Vaux fell, but Verdun was not taken. There huge shells fell -unceasingly. The German loves the easy targets: a cluster of houses, a -town, is an object hard to miss. In the town, then, the storm swept the -streets. Entire quarters went down in dust. Like Rheims, like Soissons, -like Ypres, like Liége, Verdun was the victim of the Huns. People took -refuge in the citadel, in its enormous subterranean chambers of massive -masonry. There, where the stone corridors were damp as cellars, night -and day both soldiers and civilians found shelter. There young mothers -nursed their babes, there people of all conditions lived as best they -could; there, underground, helter-skelter, all piled together. They -could hear the shells of the Hun falling on the city, the houses -crumbling, the wounded shrieking. - -All France and all the world had their eyes on Verdun the inviolable; -on Verdun surrounded by flames, in the vortex of action; on Verdun, -which did not weaken. Without respite, the Teutonic masses were hurled -to the assault. Like a sea of mud they poured upon the outposts of the -city. They were beaten down by grenades, shells, machine-guns, fire, -shot, and powder; and They did not pass! - -All about were scenes most thrilling. It would be impossible to recount -them all. We must choose only one or two. - -One day, then, of date unrecorded (Verdun held out eight months!), a -troop going up to the fortress of Thavannes found the railway below -and followed it. They came to the tunnel and entered, although it was -already much encumbered. In vain did the gendarme on guard try to -oppose their passage: the newcomers were too many. They numbered about -six hundred. Above them the battle raged. They were intending to stop -for breath, then go on up the slope and take their posts, where Death -awaited them. - -No! They will never go so far. They seek a reprieve for an instant in -the tunnel, but Death comes to meet them. In the long black cavern -are piles of ammunition in transit. There are soldiers, and wounded -men, and mules, and general confusion. Some one, man or beast (no one -knows which), hits a case of explosives. In the dark tube there is a -flash, an uproar, a cloud of smoke: four hundred bodies lie mangled -and scorched, as when the fire-damp explodes in the depth of a mine. -The living make their way out as best they can, leaving the dead and -wounded. The two hundred who escape reform their line, mount the hill, -enter the real furnace: this other episode did not count. It was an -extra, for good measure. The accident could not prevent the fulfilment -of the task before them. What were left of the battalion went where -their order sent them. Four hundred fell on the way. Too bad. Orders -are orders: they are carried out by the remnant.... - -This is only one instance in a thousand. - - * * * * * - -We all had a great curiosity to see the famous precincts where the -strife raged so violently. It was almost with joy, therefore, that we -received our call. The day the order arrived the news ran quickly -through the ranks: “We are going over there, boys!” “Over there” meant -Verdun. That was understood. We hastened to get ready; we arranged -knapsacks; put our affairs in order. The vans were loaded, the horses -hitched. In the canteens we drank to Victory, to the Return, to Good -Luck. Eyes glistened behind the smoke of pipes, and we jostled and -laughed. Even those who feared the terrible adventure and dreaded death -concealed their uneasiness and cloaked it with smiles. On the other -hand, many danced for joy, happy to have a part in the fight, to be in -full action. - -All together, pell-mell, happy and unhappy, we were punctually on the -spot appointed for the automobiles to receive us when evening arrived. -The entire convoy waited behind a hill. The drivers, muffled up in -pelts, chatted while waiting for us. They looked fantastic in the dim -light. Only two or three lanterns winked and blinked in the night. One -was dimly aware of a file of conveyances lined up along the edge of the -road, like great beasts asleep; the going to and fro of the officers -of the convoy, and their colloquy with the colonel. It was all more -felt than seen. One could distinguish only shadows; one heard the tramp -of men, the dull murmur of low-voiced talking, sometimes an exclamation -or a stifled oath. - -Then orders were transmitted by cyclists. The first battalion set out. -Hurriedly each section climbed into the autos. These ought to have -carried twenty men each, but twenty-five and even thirty were piled -in, somehow, with their arms, their luggage, their knapsacks, their -side-bags, their canteens. As soon as a company was loaded in the -captain gave the order to go. One by one the cars fell into line. The -motors coughed and plunged forward like a dog unleashed. Then ten more -machines received a new company, and departed in their turn. They also -were swallowed up by the night. - -When my turn came, by some chance I was assigned to an auto with the -officers, where we were much less crowded than in the large vehicles -of the privates. I therefore expected to gain some further information -concerning our destination. In this I was disappointed, as the officers -knew very little about it; besides, from the time the motor started -and the auto was on its way no further conversation was possible. We -could not hear each other, even when nearly shouting, and we had enough -to do in resisting the bumps which threw us against each other. We -inhaled the dust: a thick, heavy dust, raised by the wheels. It soon -covered us completely. One could feel it coating his face, and small -grains of sand rolled between one’s fingers. We could not see, for the -curtains were drawn down tightly, and it was very dark. We travelled as -in an interminable tunnel, with no light whatever, with no knowledge of -what we were passing or of the country we were traversing. Sometimes -there were sudden stops. The quickly set brakes brought us to a -standstill with a jerk. We asked the driver: “What is the matter? Where -are we?” He scarcely answered, for he knew no more than we. His order -was to follow the auto in front of him, and to keep his machine twenty -metres behind, that he might avoid a collision in case of a too-sudden -stop. He followed his orders, and knew nothing more. He did not even -know the road we were travelling. The car which led the procession -carried the chief officer of the convoy. Probably he was the only man -besides our colonel who knew our destination. - -Thus we journeyed four hours before dawn. As the pale light invaded -our rolling apartment little by little, we saw how completely we were -covered with dust. We were white from head to feet, like a miller -dredged in his flour. Our clothing was white, our hair, our faces, -our arms. We appeared grotesquely like veritable old men. We looked -each other over and laughed. Then, as there was nothing more to fear -from the dust, a lieutenant raised a curtain. We found ourselves on -a winding road in a charming, gently-rolling country. Small trees -formed tiny groves on the hillsides, and the whole landscape was quite -different from that we had just left. - -Suddenly the captain made a gesture. He had perceived an airplane, -soaring directly over us in a most disquieting manner. It was flying -too high for us to distinguish, even with glasses, whether it was -French or German; but its manœuvres were suspicious. It had command -of the road, and seemed to be preparing to fire on the convoy. In -fact, that was exactly what happened, a few minutes later, when the -flyer suddenly came lower and opened fire with his mitrailleuse. The -automobiles increased their speed and lengthened the distance from one -to another. Nevertheless, the aviator could move much faster than could -we, and he circled above us like a vulture over his prey. Fortunately, -he had no bombs, and his aim was too uncertain to inflict much damage. -As it was, he wounded several men, and would have wounded many more -if the special guns for the purpose had not opened fire on him, or -if three French planes had not appeared on the horizon. At sight of -them he made a hasty escape, amid our shouts and jeers. Our wounded -were rapidly cared for by a surgeon, and shortly after were placed in -the first field-hospital encountered on the road, amid the ruins of a -village. This village gave us the first knowledge of our whereabouts. -We were entering the valley of the Woëvre, and Verdun lay beyond the -hills. The roll of the cannon had become audible. - -After a short halt we set out again. This time we entered the field -of action. It was evidenced by the constantly increasing number of -convoys encountered. Long lines of camions were climbing toward the -battle, loaded with munitions or food; or, like our own, with men. The -road became very wide, encroaching some distance into the fields. Some -soldiers, in the stream of conveyances, threw pebbles under our wheels -without as much as lifting their eyes to look at us: they had seen so -much already that the spectacle of troops going under fire interested -them not at all. - -With our advance the scene changed rapidly. We saw some autos -overturned in a ditch and burning. Some dead horses stretched -their rigid legs in the air. Under some tents men bustled about -with stretchers, instruments, and boxes. These were the temporary -dressing-stations, where the men wounded on the route were cared -for: any who had met with accidents from vehicles, as well as those -who had been hit by shell-splinters--for we had entered the zone of -projectiles, and stray splinters reached even that far. The scene -became indescribable. It was a mob, where one felt nevertheless a -discipline, a sense of regulated, methodical order. We were in the -side-wings of the battle, in the midst of its movable stage-settings, -among the stage-hands, machinists, electricians, and supernumeraries, -whose activities are unseen by the public, but who make it possible for -the performance to go on and be brilliant. Long trains of horse-drawn -caissons followed each other at full speed. Field-ambulances, marked -with large red crosses, slipped into the moving stream. Vehicles of -every sort, gray with dust or mud-bespattered, rumbled, creaked, rolled -along, stopped, started, stuck in the ruts, freed themselves. The -moving line looked like the folds of a fabulous serpent. - -The voice of the cannon increased in power and volume. It was like -hearing an orchestra of inferno. The ear received only a tremendous, -continuous roar, like the rolling of thunder which never ceases. - -We could see the earth tossed high like a geyser when a shell struck. -We breathed the pungent odor of the battle. We were getting into it -now. Most of the houses were demolished. The buildings still standing -all bore the marks of war, with great ragged holes in walls and roof, -with stains of powder and fire. Enough of them remained in close rows -to indicate the streets leading into the town. We crossed the Meuse and -found ourselves in the city. It appeared deserted. We looked curiously -up and down the streets, without finding any sign of life whatever, -except an occasional hurrying soldier, a cyclist, or an automobile -racing at full speed between the silent houses. We made some détours, -crossed squares, and skirted gardens. The whole city lay open to our -view; and above the roofs the massive silhouette of the citadel spread -its protecting wings. - -The locking of wheels gave us a jolt: we had arrived. Glad to tread -the ground once more, we leaped down and entered an abandoned factory, -where we were to camp. The windows had long since lost their glass, -but the roof remained. It was a fragile protection against shells, -but quite adequate against wind and rain. Along the walls was stacked -dirty straw, broken to crumbs by the many sleeping troops. That was our -bed. It would be for many their last sleep before the sleep of death, -for the orders came immediately: we would mount to the first lines at -nightfall. - -The march into the battle was at first simple. We advanced in the -descending shadows, we left the town behind. Before us the heavens -were streaked with the light of explosives. We marched by sections, in -silence. We marched straight ahead, with heart beating quickly, mouth -dry, brain a blank. In spite of myself, I set my teeth and gripped my -hands. We could not distinguish the road we trod, but were dimly aware -sometimes of trees stripped bare, of low ruins, of puddles of water, of -general débris. We simply followed the man in front, scarcely turning -the head when a flock of shells fell at the right, or left, or ahead. -We only knew we were in the zone where they fell. We heard the hoarse -shriek of the projectiles high in the air, and the chorus of cannon -re-echoed in each breast. We no longer felt the chill of the night air. -We knew not if we breathed. The farther we went, the more difficult -did the walking become. We stumbled over the uneven ground, ploughed -up by the shells; but we were not yet in the place of torment, and the -missiles spared us. We passed many moving shadows: couriers, orderlies, -estafettes, officers, wounded, we knew not what. They were only dark -objects moving about in the night, outlined by the glow of the -projectiles; instantly swallowed again by the shadows and giving place -to others. We knew nothing about them. We knew only one great fact: -that we were always advancing toward the fire; we were approaching the -first lines, where the conflagration raged at white heat. - -Then--we were in the midst of the shells. The frenzy was on. The -wounded cried out. We held together the best we could. We entered -chaos. Whirlwinds of explosives enveloped us. They were above, around, -beneath. The very earth leaped up and lashed our faces and hands. -Violent gusts of hot wind shook us. We ran. We joined some other -comrades. We could not proceed in lines, but moved in groups. There -were no longer any usable trenches. They were torn open, crushed in, -filled up, making any advance in them impossible. Therefore we marched -in the open, and we advanced. We would leap into a shell-crater, catch -our breath for a second, look out for another hole, and hurl ourselves -into it as quickly as possible. The rain of steel enveloped everything, -in a tumult unbelievable. We scarcely knew if we lived; we certainly -thought no more about death. The fixed, absolute, imperious idea, -the only surviving thing in our consciousness, was to arrive at our -destination, where we could give our service. We felt that we were near -the spot and must attain it. - -We often lost our way. The officers looked for the road, asked the -direction, shouted orders. We understood as best we could. We ran at -full speed, threw ourselves flat on the ground, sprang up and ran -again. We knew only one thing: we _must_ succeed in reaching our -appointed post, we must reach the firing-line: we could not stop, we -could not rest, until we found the location of the regiment we were -sent to relieve. - -For three hours we plunged across the jagged fields. The ground rose -and fell and rose again. Sometimes, behind a pile of earth, we found -some men. We shouted some questions. They knew nothing to tell us, as -they were not of the regiment which we sought. They were out of breath, -like ourselves; or they were wounded, or they had just been relieved, -or they had just arrived and were themselves seeking their post, or -they were hopelessly lost and joined in with us. If they were officers, -they questioned us: - -“What regiment?” “Where are you going?” “What division?” “What army?” -“Have you seen such and such a regiment?” “No.” “Yes, at the right.” -“Over at the left.” “Make room there!” - -Some ambulances charged past. We saw some first-aid stations in full -operation, with wounded shrieking all about. Some couriers, out of -breath, shouted instructions: “Go straight on. Your regiment is two -hundred metres from here, near the canal.” - -Finally we arrived, under such a hail of bullets, machine fire, and -shrapnel that we were not even conscious of danger. We found some men, -half buried in holes, who went away and left us. They melted into the -night. - -We had reached our post on the firing-line, in an unknown plain, which -seemed to be flooded with dead bodies, as a fallow field is a riot -of corn-flowers and nettles. We had no idea how we had succeeded in -reaching the spot. - -There was nothing more to do but fight and in our turn, wait for the -Relief, or for Death. - - - - -XI - -THE TOUCH OF DEATH - - -I have no intention, in writing this work, to describe the entire war. -It would be an impossible task, and I do not suppose that any author -who is a contemporary of the immense tragedy would have the presumption -to attempt it. To undertake such a task with success, it would be -necessary to wait until many years had effaced the secondary details, -leaving in the foreground only the principal facts. Then, too, each -person sees the war in his own way, from his own point of view, and -can relate neither the ensemble nor the particular detail after the -same fashion as his neighbor. It is all a question of individuality in -handling such a subject. That which one is able to tell is merely a -résumé of certain brief instants lived in the furnace; in long waits, -which are told by a few words, but which lasted for months. We must, -then, leave to the future historians the literary task of enclosing in -a single book the story of the events which have upset and transformed -the world; as Homer’s Iliad in its brief pages narrates the War of -Troy, which lasted ten years. All that the writer of the present day -may depict are separate minutes of the time in which we lived, and -the sensations of a man who is only one of the hundred millions of -combatants. Therefore I cannot add much to what I have told concerning -Verdun. - -We remained there four days. So short a time! and yet in this brief -space a regiment melted away as the iron melts in the crucible. Four -days under fire, and two battalions disappeared. When our relief came, -scarcely one-third of our number survived; and of that third not one -could tell clearly just what had passed. We had lived, though we knew -not how, under the rain of steel, of flames, of flying earth, of -splintering shells, of breaking stones; knocked about, thrown to the -earth, rising only to fall again; eating little, drinking less; without -sleep, without rest, battered and torn, but still clinging to our post. - -Automobiles had brought us, automobiles took us away. We were gray -with dust when we came; we went away looking like blocks of earth. -Nothing about our uniforms was recognizable. Mud and clay blotched our -faces and hands, matted our hair and beards, stiffened our shirts, -weighed down our clothing. We had all grown old. Our eyes were sunken, -our features drawn, our lassitude was extreme. Nevertheless, we almost -ran when permitted to go away. We knew that the danger pursued us, -and we mustered enough energy to escape. Again we ascended the hills, -descended the slopes; again we saw the same spectacles we had seen in -coming. It was our turn to cry to the arriving troops: “Count your -bones, boys, it is getting hot!” - -Yes, it was getting hot! The surging flood of Germans beat upon the -French fortress like sea-breakers upon a rocky coast. The uproar -increased. It seemed that the utmost limits of the possible must be -reached, but each day those limits receded. Each day more cannon -crashed; each day the explosions were faster and more furious; each day -the storm augmented. One made his escape as from a horrible nightmare. -Our ears hummed. Our nerves, strained to the breaking-point, vibrated -and quivered like the strings of a violin. We could have dropped in our -tracks from suffering and weakness. - -However, an immense pride sustained our waning physical force. -Mud-bespattered, thin, repulsive, we resummoned our stamina when we -heard a command, at the edge of a ruined village; a general was looking -at us. Instantly, backs straightened, heads lifted; bayonets were -fixed on gun-barrels. Our troop, panting with exhaustion, but proud, -impeccable, filed past that man, our chief, whose clear eyes were fixed -upon us. We understood each other. Without words, without speech, our -faces told him, “We have given our lives; ‘They’ have not passed!” and, -without a word, his look responded: “I know it.” - -We had our reward. Somehow our physical pains disappeared. Our effort, -our sacrifices, our fears, our wounds, had been of service; the baffled -enemy was stumbling without progressing, was crumbling away. Verdun -held, and behind her protecting arm France still lived. - -Just the same, the time had come to seek the automobiles. We could -not hold control of ourselves except when on our feet. The instant -we stopped moving about, the instant we were seated, or reclining, -no matter in what position we relaxed for a single second, we were -asleep. Neither jolts, nor knocks, nor sudden stops interrupted our -giant sleep. We slept without a remnant of physical sensation. We -slept violently, as heavy and inert as dead men. We slept with all -our body, all our heart and soul; fists clinched, mouths open; shaken -about, wholly unconscious, carried away less like men than like parcels -of cloth, earth, flesh, and accoutrement. We no longer had names or -personality. We were nothing but clods, utterly at the end of our -vitality. - -Thus we crossed the country, passing bivouacs where troops were -encamped, roads where convoys were mounting toward the battle-line, -forests where cavalry were awaiting their call. The noise of the -cannon diminished to a distant rumble, became faint, and was lost. We -slept on. Occasionally, a man stretched himself, changed position, and -plunged again into oblivion like the rest. Some, in their dreams, cried -out disconnected words, mumbled, or wept. A madman in my carriage -suddenly leaped out and plunged into the blackness of the night. He -was not missed until the next day. Three camions had passed over him, -leaving him nothing but a mangled rag on the road. - -At last we reached our destination, and came to life again. A camp -was ready to receive us--a camp so new and fresh we thought it almost -elegant. There were Adrian barracks[G] of unpainted spruce, with water -for drinking and water for washing; with coffee prepared, fresh bread, -hot soup, and abundance of clean straw. We knew that the horrible -inferno was at an end for us; at evening a train would take us each to -his own family to enjoy a furlough. - -To come out of the abyss of hell and arrive at his own hearthside is -an emotion too deep for a mortal man. He knows not if he is living in -reality or in a dream. He goes on mechanically. He is hairy, barbarous, -dirty, hideous. He is black, and torn, and bruised, and ragged. He -reeks of powder, blood, and earth. He trembles. He is conscious of a -sensation of joy--he feels it without comprehending it. - -Before long the train will be in the station. His wife will be there -with his mother, his father, and others who are dear. They will take -him in their arms. They will hold him, they will press him to their -hearts. He will feel the sweet thrill of their touch; he will receive -their caresses, will hear the familiar voices. His heart beats fast. A -feeling of faintness sweeps over him; he puts his hand before his eyes. -He speaks to his neighbor. He laughs. He drinks a little, he smokes. -He suddenly feels smothered. It must be his great-coat which bothers -him; he pulls it off. He holds imaginary conversations with himself. -He gesticulates. He recounts what he has seen, what he has done, what -he has said; the death of his comrades, the frightful wounds of his -dearest friends. He strives to classify his recollections; he yawns, -he gives it up. The battle still crowds his brain, obsesses him, holds -him, fills his entire consciousness. The other men are like himself. -Some laugh, some sing, some sleep. - -The special train rolls away--passes stations, traverses pleasant -country, arrives at towns, whistles, snorts, runs smoothly, flies over -the rails, carries him on and on. The man is dumb with amazement: a -field where reapers are binding the grain enchants him; a glimpse of -a garden where a woman is hanging up washing moves him to tenderness. -A house intact astonishes him. The panorama passes before his window, -is gone, is repeated. It is not yet the country, the province, where -he was born, but that is approaching. Familiar names are seen at the -stopping-places along the track. In an hour the train will reach -his station. He can no longer sit still. He rises, fusses with his -clothing, sits down, gets up again. The train no longer is going fast -enough. It is stopping. What for? Now it goes again. Good. There it -is stopping again! This is deadly. Villainous train! Villainous trip! -Villainous life! - -At last it is his own country, his own town, his own station ... and -the train is stopping! Yes, the family are all there, running to meet -him. The man leaves the carriage; he falls into their arms; he leans on -their shoulders. Tears are on his cheeks; his mind is benumbed, he can -only look. There is father, there is mother, there is wife and child. - -“Well, well! How are you?” - -“Ah, yes, all right,”--somewhat abstractedly. - -He pulls himself together, recovers his strength and composure. He -stands erect, proudly. He is bruised, stained, and dirty; a dreadful -object, at once repulsive and sublime. He is in the midst of his -doting, distracted family, who forget all the questions they had -planned to ask about himself and the war, and can only ask: “Are you -hungry? are you thirsty? are you warm?” He does not know if he is or -not. He feels no need of anything. He goes with them. He recognizes the -land, the road, the trees, and the houses. He breathes deeply. What -delicious air! He is hurried along. As he passes the neighbors exclaim: - -“There he is!” - -He is safe and whole, he is brave and noble. He wears on his breast the -Croix de Guerre. He is petted. He is washed and cleaned and mended and -taken out for a promenade. He tries to tell his story, but he tells it -badly: he has not the words for it. He knows not how to express all -the misery endured, the bodily suffering, the horror of the battle. He -tells little fragments of stories, and already he is forgetting the -most terrible features. The struggle which was beyond all comprehension -seems small when he tries to recount it. It becomes nothing more than -a local fight with grenades, a patch of ground occupied in the night, -a brook crossed--a thing of shadow and of mystery. It is no longer -grandiose. It really was a catastrophe: it becomes a mere fist fight. -However, they listen, they ask questions. He must repeat and go into -detail. And he, who has escaped the jaws of death, who by a miracle -has come out of the destruction, who feels with strangeness the new -pulses of life, he runs about to see his friends, he shakes the burden -from his thought, he amuses himself--and finally is aware that the time -has passed like a flash of lightning and he must again depart. Then -the anguish again lays hold upon him; for that which he could not tell -clearly he knows only too well. No fibre of his being has forgotten it. -His flesh creeps at the thought of entering again the bath of blood, -of noise, of war; the long vigils in the trench, the whistle of the -shells, the infantry attack. - -He goes to join his regiment. He is loaded with delicacies, tobacco, -and presents. He has new socks on his feet and a new sweater on his -back. He is made over, he is a man again. He is sad, but he goes: there -is no other way. - -Once more he is at the front with all its horrors. He is in a sector -of great commotion, where ruins pile upon ruins; where the very earth -under his feet explodes; where a fresh drive is being pushed; where -no minute is without its danger. There is the patrol toward the -enemy’s lines, the life underground, the sky shot with airplanes, the -shrapnel overhead and the mine under feet. There is the torpedo coming -with its ugly growl; there are all the changing forms in which death -beckons--the Grim Monster which prowls and shrieks; there is the agony -renewed. - -The attack is resumed. The attack, yes. “C’est la Guerre.” There is no -longer, as in former days, a battle of a single day, wherein one is -either victor or vanquished, where the outcome is decisive. The attack -of to-day is one of the rôles in the drama of life, like being a -soldier. Yes, it is life itself. - -We made an attack, then, on a certain day, toward Mont Cornillet, -which stood out before us like a volcano of chalk. The German and -French artillery were crossing their shell-fire. Below, the French were -holding. The position was hardly tenable after it was gained, and we -were trying to enlarge and strengthen it a bit. My regiment, entirely -reformed and equipped, formed a part of the advancing force. Each man, -grown wise from his experience in war, could estimate the distance, -and the effect of the firing. It was going well. It was hard, but -the firing was good. Perhaps we would suffer less this time than on -former occasions. Perhaps once more we would return alive. But then, -what matter? One is a fatalist in such moments. Destiny will decide. -A man is nothing, can do nothing. He is a mere atom, a drop of water -in the ocean, a grain of sand in the desert. He goes where the wind -drives him. If he is lucky, he comes back alive; if he is unlucky, he -returns to the bosom of the earth. It is all very simple, clear, and -clean-cut. The sacrifice was made long since. Once for all, the very -first time, he has said: “What will come, will come.” He has left his -home, he has marched, he has fought, he has suffered. Some men have -been killed, others only await their turn. Infinite Fatality holds them -in her hand. Those who believe in God, and that God brings solace, have -their comfort always with them. They piously attend religious service -when they can, wherever the chaplain sets up his altar: in a crushed-in -chapel of a demolished village, or in a barn without a roof, or in the -trench itself. The man who believes in nothing has no greater fear of -death. - -Certainly, were it not for the war, one would have lived otherwise. -One would have lived in a world of work, with its pains and pleasures, -founding a family and rearing his children. One would have lived as -lived his father; one would have had a wife like his mother; one would -have pursued happiness. But this dream is one of peace. Now, “C’est la -Guerre.” The giant struggle passes the control of men, and its unknown -end is still far off. One no longer fights merely for his home, his -land, his own well-being. One feels that these things have become -dwarfed in the tremendous world tragedy, and that at the foundation it -has to do with great principles, ideals, and human destiny. - -The soldier in action does not see so far. The immediate, the concrete, -demand his close scrutiny; but he feels that the war is waged for all -the human race, and that his blood will not flow in vain. Emancipation -is coming. Man is throwing aside autocratic authority; he has -reached his age of majority and wishes to be free. Society impels -and guides him. He is no longer the soldier of a people, he is the -soldier of a principle. He fights for the triumph of ideals that are -noble, ideals that are just, ideals that are free. He assists at the -ghastly death-throes of an autocracy which can live only through his -enslavement. He knows the price of a revolution: some men must die that -others may live. He accepts it. He knows not just how great must be his -sacrifice. He knows only that he is resigned. - -I saw all this among my comrades. I gathered it in their discussions: -for we talk, at the front. The squad argues, reads the newspapers, -makes its comments, follows the trend of events when it can. But--when -the “Coup de Chien” comes; when the unit enters an engagement; when -one fills his cartridge-box or receives his case of grenades; when -one goes over the top, to storm the enemy’s parapets and rush to -the assault, all else disappears, is wiped out. There remains only -exaltation and the act of the moment--a sacrament. - -The zero hour is passed from one to another in advance. The attack will -be at ten o’clock. A half-hour before, each man is in his place. The -artillery fire is redoubled. The German knows that his last minutes -have come. As for ourselves, we are attentive and impatient. The -anguish of the drive puts our nerves on a tension; eyes take on a hard -look, hands grip convulsively. One wishes he could start, leap to the -surface, cross No Man’s Land on the run, and drop into the opposite -trench. The half-hour drags on slowly. - -The hour strikes. With one leap, furiously, the first wave bounds -forward, spreads, and crosses the intervening space. The second line -follows. We of the next line look and listen. They cry out--they go -on--they are running--they arrive! We start. The others are already -upon the German. The grenades crackle and snap. The machine-guns spit, -the airplanes hum, the shells burst. Forward, forward! We run at full -speed. Each knows his rôle. Each knows his act, his allotted piece of -work. Each is strangely lucid. The movement is admirable. All is going -well, everything is working out with precision. We will gain our point. -With an infallible glance the soldier knows the outcome, and in that -moment he judges his chief without error, without appeal. - -The trench is taken. The shelters are crushed in, the dead are lying -all about. Pale and haggard prisoners run toward us, huddled together -with up-lifted arms to give themselves up: - -“Gut Franzose! Kamarad! Polones, Polones!” - -They are Poles: big and little, tall and short; a whole troop. They -shrink, now. They would like to run. They are anxious to get away -from the place, for the miserable creatures cling to life and fear -the shells, their own shells, the German shells, which follow each -other in gusts. We drive them on. They go as captives. Three pass, a -Frenchman follows, then three more prisoners and another Frenchman, -with gun ready. The procession follows the wrecked trench, leaps over -the débris, reaches the open space between our lines. Now there is -less danger. The prisoners are parcelled off by twenties and are led -to the rear. They stop at the first post where wounded are cared for. -The stretchers are taken up and carried by the same men who made the -wounds, by these men now quite docile, who, dressed in dirty gray made -still more dirty by the ground, march with their burden, fearful, but -at heart happy: for them the war is over. - -It will continue for their conquerors who still live. Death has once -more made her choice. The prisoners are safe. Those others who took -them will die perhaps to-morrow, on this same ground or on another. -Satiated to-day, the Grim Monster is reserving them: they are kept for -a coming feast of death. - -How well they know it! but they care not at all. They are tired and -happy. They wander about the captured trench and gather up little -nothings: fragments of clothing, pieces of arms, splinters of -cartridges. They go to and fro; or, impassive, they choose a corner and -go to sleep, indifferent to the shells, to the battle which is dying -out; indifferent to to-day and to-morrow. - -They know their task is accomplished. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - - -[A] The trial of Mme. Caillaux for the murder of the editor of _Le -Figaro_.--TRANSLATOR. - -[B] “Les compagnons--ceux avec qui on rompt le pain.” - -[C] The banquette is about eighteen inches above the pathway at the -bottom of the trench. The men stand here when firing or when on -guard.--TRANSLATORS’ NOTE. - -[D] The trenches were about seven feet deep. On the forward -side was a step, or ledge, on which the men could stand when -shooting.--TRANSLATORS’ NOTE. - -[E] It has been found that water must not touch the skin for many hours -after suffering a gas attack. The chemical action of the water rots -the flesh. For the same reason the “poilu” is now clean-shaven: the -poison of gas remains in a beard for days, and perspiration adds to the -dangers of inhalation.--TRANSLATOR. - -[F] Literally, “I am gnawing them away.” - -[G] Adrian barracks are made in sections, which enables them to be put -up or taken down quickly.--TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE GERMAN SHELLS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Under the German shells</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Emmanuel Bourcier</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translators: George Nelson Holt</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Mary R. Holt</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 12, 2022 [eBook #68301]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: David E. Brown and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE GERMAN SHELLS ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<h1>UNDER THE GERMAN SHELLS</h1> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_0"></span> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i006.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="caption">The author at Camp Grant.<br /> - -The American soldier is Divisional Interpreter Umberto-Gagliasso.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<p><span class="xxxlarge">UNDER THE<br /> -GERMAN SHELLS</span></p> - -<p>BY<br /> -<span class="large">EMMANUEL BOURCIER</span><br /> - -MEMBER OF THE FRENCH MILITARY COMMISSION TO AMERICA</p> - -<p>TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH<br /> -BY<br /> -GEORGE NELSON HOLT<br /> -AND<br /> -MARY R. HOLT</p> - -<p><i>WITH PORTRAITS</i></p> - -<p><span class="large">NEW YORK<br /> -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> -1918</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1918, by</span><br /> -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> -<br /> -Published May, 1918</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_publogo.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">PREFACE</h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Life</span> is a curious thing. In time of war Life -is itself the extraordinary and Death seems the -only ordinary thing possible for men.</p> - -<p>In time of war man is but a straw thrown -into the wide ocean. If the tossing waves do -not engulf him he can do no more than float -on the surface. God alone knows his destiny.</p> - -<p>This book, <i>Under the German Shells</i>, is another -instance of war’s uncertainties. Sent by my -government to America to join the new American -army as instructor, I wrote the greater -part of the book on the steamer which brought -me. The reader will, perhaps, read it when -I am dead; for another steamer is about to -carry me back to France, where I shall again -be “under the German shells,” before the book -will see the light.</p> - -<p>This is the second work which I have written -during the war. The first, <i>Gens du Front</i>, appeared -in France while I was in America. I -wrote it in the trenches. The second will appear<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[vi]</span> -in America when I shall be in France. -The father will not be present at the birth of -either of his two children. “C’est la Guerre.”</p> - -<p>My only wish is that the work may be of -use. I trust it may, for every word is sincere -and true. That it may render the greatest -service, I wish to give you, my reader, a share -in my effort: a part of the money which you -pay for the book will be turned over to the -French Red Cross Society, to care for the -wounded and assist the widows whom misfortune -has overtaken while I have been writing. -Thus you will lighten the burden of those -whom the scourge has stricken.</p> - -<p>I hope that you will find in the work some -instruction—you who are resolutely preparing -to defend Justice and Right and to avenge the -insults of the infamous Boche.</p> - -<p>I have no other wishes than these for my -work, and that victory may be with our united -arms.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Emmanuel Bourcier.</span></p> - - - -<p>     <span class="smcap">Camp Grant</span>, December 16, 1917.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - - -<table> - - -<tr><td class="tdr"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td> THE MOBILIZATION</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td> THE INVASION</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21"> 21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td> THE MARNE</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50"> 50</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td> WAITING</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93"> 93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td> LA PIOCHE</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101"> 101</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td> THE GAS</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120"> 120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td> RHEIMS</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_134"> 134</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td> DISTRACTIONS</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_148"> 148</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td> THE BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE     </td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166"> 166</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td> VERDUN</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_177"> 177</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td> THE TOUCH OF DEATH</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_200"> 200</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -</div> - - -<table> -<tr><td>The author at Camp Grant</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_0"> <i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> - -<tr><td>Emmanuel Bourcier at the front in the sector of Rheims -in 1915        </td><td class="tdr"> <i>Facing page</i> <a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> - -<p class="ph2">Under the German Shells</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">I<br /> - - -<small>THE MOBILIZATION</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">ONLY those who were actors in the -great drama of the mobilization of -July, 1914, in France, can at this time -appreciate clearly all its phases. No picture, -however skilful the hand which traces it, can -give in full its tragic grandeur and its impassioned -beauty.</p> - -<p>Every man who lived through this momentous -hour of history regarded its development -from a point of view peculiar to himself. According -to his situation and environment he -experienced sensations which no other could -entirely share. Later there will exist as many -accounts, verbal or written, of this unique -event as there were witnesses. From all these -recitals will grow up first the tradition, then -the legend. And so our children will learn<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> -a story of which we, to-day, are able to grasp -but little. This will be a narrative embodying -the historic reality, as the Iliad, blending -verity and fable, brings down to us the -glowing chronicle of the Trojan War. Nevertheless, -one distinct thing will dominate the -ensemble of these diverse accounts; that is, -that the war originated from a German provocation, -for no one of Germany’s adversaries -thought of war before the ultimatum to Serbia -burst like a frightful thunderclap.</p> - -<p>At this period there existed in Europe, and -perhaps more in France than elsewhere, a -vague feeling that a serious crisis was approaching. -A sense of uneasiness permeated the national -activities and weighed heavily on mind -and heart. As the gathering storm charges -the air with electricity and gives a feeling of -oppression, so the war, before breaking forth, -alarmed men and created a sensation of fear, -vague, yet terrifying.</p> - -<p>To tell the truth, it had been felt for a long -time, even in the lowest strata of the French -people, that Germany was desirous of provoking -war. The Moroccan affair and the -incidents in Alsace, especially that of Saverne,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -made clear to men of every political complexion -the danger hanging over the heads of all. No -one, however, was willing to believe what -proved to be the reality. Each, as far as possible, -minimized the menace, refused to accept -its verity, and trusted that some happy chance -would, at the last moment, discover a solution.</p> - -<p>For myself, I must admit this was the case. -Although my profession was one that called -me to gather on all subjects points of information -which escaped the ordinary observer, -in common with the rest I allowed my optimism -to conceal the danger, and tried always to -convince myself that my new-found happiness -need fear no attack. I had “pitched my tent.” -At least, I believed I had. After having circled -the globe, known three continents and breathed -under the skies of twenty lands, my wanderlust -was satiated and I tried to assure myself -that my life henceforth was fixed; that nothing -should again oblige me to resume the march -or turn my face to adventure.</p> - -<p>Alas! human calculations are of little weight -before the imperious breath of destiny.</p> - -<p>I closed my eyes, as did all my countrymen;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -but to shut out the storm was impossible. -Mingled in all the currents of public -events I felt the menacing tempest and, helpless, -I regarded the mounting thunder-clouds. -All showed the dark path of the future and -the resistless menace of 1914.</p> - -<p>I see again the Paris of that day: that -fevered Paris, swayed by a thousand passions, -where the mob foresaw the storm, where -clamors sprang up from every quarter of the -terrible whirlpool of opinions, where clashed so -many interests and individuals. Ah! that -Paris of July, 1914, that Paris, tumultuous, -breathless, seeing the truth but not acknowledging -it; excited by a notorious trial<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> and -alarmed by the assassination of Sarajevo; -only half reassured by the absence of the President -of the republic, then travelling in Russia; -that Paris on which fell, blow after blow, so -many rumors sensational and conflicting.</p> - -<p>In the street the tension of life was at the -breaking-point. In the home it was scarcely -less. Events followed each other with astonishing -rapidity. First came the ultimatum<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -to Serbia. On that day I went to meet a friend -at the office of the newspaper edited by Clemenceau, -and I recall the clairvoyant words -of the great statesman:</p> - -<p>“It means war within a month.”</p> - -<p>Words truly prophetic, but to which at that -moment I did not attach the importance they -merited.</p> - -<p>War! War in our century! It was unbelievable. -It seemed impossible. It was the -general opinion that again, as in so many crises, -things would be arranged. One knew that in -so many strained situations diplomacy and -the government had found a solution. Could -it be that this time civilization would fail?</p> - -<p>However, as the days rolled on the anxiety -became keener. One still clung to the hope -of a final solution, but one began little by little -to fear the worst. In the Chamber of Deputies -the nervousness increased, and in the corridors -the groups discussed only the ominous -portent of the hour. In the newspapers the -note of reassurance alternated with the tone -of pessimism. The tempest mounted.</p> - -<p>At night, when the dinner-hour came, I returned -to my young wife. I found her calm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -as yet, and smiling, but she insistently demanded -the assurance that I would accompany -her to the seaside at the beginning of the vacation. -She had never before asked it with such -insistence. She knew that, in spite of my desire, -it was impossible for me to be absent so -long a time, and other years she had resigned -herself to leaving with her baby some weeks -before I should lay aside my work. Generally -I joined her only a fortnight before her return -to Paris. This time a presentiment tortured -her far more than she would admit. She made -me repeat a score of times my promise to rejoin -her at the earliest possible moment. In -spite of my vows she could not make up her -mind to go, and postponed from day to day -our separation. At last I had almost to compel -her to leave; to conduct her to the train -with a display of gentle authority. She was -warned by an instinct stronger than all my -assurances. I did not see her again until thirteen -months later.</p> - -<p>Abruptly the storm broke. It came with -the suddenness of a thunderclap. The happenings -of this period are a part of history. -It is possible, however, to review them briefly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>It was announced that the President of -the republic, abandoning his intended visit to -the King of Denmark, would return precipitately -to Paris, just as the Kaiser, terminating -abruptly his cruise along the Norwegian coast, -had returned to Berlin.</p> - -<p>I went to the station curious to witness this -historic return. The approaches were black -with people, and an unusual force of police -protected the entrance. The interior was decorated -as usual with carpets and green plants, -but most unusual was the throng there -gathered. One noticed, in addition to the -numerous officials, many notables little accustomed -to going out of their way to see -affairs of this sort. I still see clearly the gray-clad -figure of M. Edmond Rostand, the distinguished -author of <i>Cyrano de Bergerac</i>; the -eager face of M. Maurice Barrès, and many -others.</p> - -<p>The presidential train arrived precisely at -the announced hour. The engine, covered -with tricolor flags, had scarcely come to a stop -amid clouds of steam, when the parlor-car -opened and the President appeared. He was -immediately followed by M. Viviani, at that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -time president of the Council of Ministers, -who had accompanied M. Poincaré on the -Russian visit. The two advanced to M. Messimy, -minister of war, shook his hand and then -those of the other officials. I looked with -deepest interest on these men on whom fate -had placed a responsibility so sudden and so -heavy. They appeared calm, but it appeared -to me the countenances of both were pale as -if they realized the gravity of the moment -and the weight of their trust. Whatever their -feeling, only the most commonplace words of -greeting were uttered, and the group at once -proceeded to the exit.</p> - -<p>Here something out of the ordinary occurred. -Though I should live a hundred years, the scene -would remain undimmed before my eyes. In -my memory there is no similarly indelible -picture, in spite of the fact that in the course -of my ten years in the army I had witnessed -a considerable number of remarkable spectacles. -Even at the funeral of President Carnot, -or that of President Félix Faure, even at -the visit to France of Czar Nicholas II, even -at the Congress of Versailles after the election -of President Poincaré or any of the great public<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -events of our national life, I had not seen anything -with so dramatic a note as the occurrence -of this instant.</p> - -<p>Leading the procession, the President came -close to the barrier which restrained the crowd -of privileged persons, who had been allowed -to enter the station. Not a sound had been -made, when, sudden as a lightning-flash, the -silence was rent by an intense cry from thousands -of throats. It swelled immediately, was -taken up by the throng outside, echoing and -reverberating, till it became a tonal torrent, -capable, like the clamors of the Romans, of -killing the birds. And this cry was:</p> - -<p>“Vive la France!”</p> - -<p>It was so strong, so powerful, and, in these -circumstances, so poignant, that there was a -wavering, a hesitation on the part of all. Even -the horses attached to the carriages, and those -of the cavalry guard, seemed to thrill at its -fervor.</p> - -<p>While the carriages filled and the escort, -with sabres flashing, took its place, the same -acclamation, the same cry, deep and powerful, -continued to roar, in its fury demonstrating -better than any deed the national will, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -expressing it in a manner so intense and precise, -that any Boches in the crowd (and there -certainly were many) must at this moment -have felt the abyss opening beneath their feet; -that the horrible adventure into which their -Emperor was hurling them was destined to -hasten their fall rather than assure their triumph.</p> - -<p>Through this crashing human concert the -escort moved forward. The crowd, however, -was so dense that the carriages were not able -to open a passage, and it was as in a living -wave, with men and horses in a confused mass, -that they reached Rue La Fayette, where at -last they were able to disengage the presidential -cortège from the still shouting throng.</p> - -<p>In the crowd left behind, a remarkable patriotic -demonstration spontaneously developed -under the leadership of two noted deputies, -M. Galli and Admiral Bienaimé, chanting the -“Marseillaise” and acclaiming France.</p> - -<p>Now let the war come! Unity dated from -this instant.</p> - -<p>From this hour the war imposed itself on -every one. Each Frenchman resolutely prepared -himself. The Miracle, that wondrous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -French miracle which was to stupefy the world -and arrest the enemy at the Marne, this sublime -display of strength on the part of a France -seized by the throat, was born, under German -provocation, at the Gare du Nord, in this furious -shout, in this cry of passionate love:</p> - -<p>“Vive la France!”</p> - -<p>From that evening each family felt itself -warned, each man felt his heart grow stronger, -and each woman lived in shuddering anticipation.</p> - -<p>Throughout the land there gushed forth a -will to battle, an admirable spirit of resolution -and sacrifice, on which the enemy had not -counted, that he had not foreseen, and which -all his power could not conquer. France, insulted, -provoked, assailed, stood erect to her -foes.</p> - -<p>This period was brief. People followed in -the papers the energetic move for peace undertaken -by France and England, but the day -of wavering was past. War, with all its consequences, -was accepted. The national sentiment -was unanimous, and the mobilization -found the public ready in spite of the shocks -inseparable from such an event.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>The most serious of these which I recall, -was the assassination of Jaurès, the great Socialist -leader, in Rue Montmartre. Although -several of the newspapers, and particularly -the Italian press, printed that I was in the -party of the great tribune when he was killed, -the statement was inexact. I learned of the -assassination shortly after it occurred, and -with several of my associates hurried to the -scene. The moment was tragic and the tense -state of public feeling caused an immense throng -to swarm the boulevard. I was able, nevertheless, -to reach the office of l’Humanité and, -with others, to write my name in homage to -the fallen one.</p> - -<p>Already history was on the march. The -national defense was in organization, and each -individual had too many personal preoccupations -to give even to the most legitimate occupation -more than a few brief minutes of -attention. For myself it was necessary to -think at once of the rôle of soldier, which I -was reassuming.</p> - -<p>I hurried to my home. In the empty apartment -I assembled my military equipment with -the skill of an old stager; the compact baggage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -indispensable to the trooper, which should -serve all his needs while taking up the smallest -space, and add as little as possible to the weight -of his burden. The experience I had had in -the trade of soldiering, the expeditions in which -I had taken part (the campaign in China, -where, for the first time, I had as companions -in arms the splendid soldiers of free America; -my journeys into Indo-China and the Sahara), -enabled me to know, better than most others, -the essentials of the soldier’s personal provision; -what must be chosen and what rejected, -and the precise size limits by which a useful -article should be judged indispensable or abandoned -because too cumbersome.</p> - -<p>I provided for myself accordingly without -waiting for the official call. In consequence I -was able to devote my last free hours to some -of my less experienced neighbors. Among -these, two poor fellows interested me particularly. -They were brothers, one of them recently -married, who, by uniting their savings, -had just opened a shop not far from my home. -They had watched with dismay the coming -of the tempest, and questioned me incessantly, -hoping to find in my answers some words of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -reassurance. I was able to give only such -answers as increased their fears, and to add -advice which they would not heed.</p> - -<p>“Imitate me,” I said to them; “the war is -inevitable. Buy some heavy shoes and thick -socks. Provide yourselves with needles and -thread. One always needs them, and too often -one hasn’t them when the need is greatest,” -etc.</p> - -<p>They wouldn’t listen. They continued to -worry and do nothing, refusing to the end to -accept the terrible reality, closing their eyes -to the spectre as if they had a premonition -that they were destined to be crushed in the -torment and both killed; which, as I have since -learned, was their fate within the first month -of the war.</p> - -<p>In the meantime I had to write consoling -letters to my wife, abandoned at the seaside, -amid a populace shocked and bewildered by -the thunderbolt, and lacking definite news to -satisfy the anxious need which saddened each -individual.</p> - -<p>But I was a soldier. I had to rejoin my -command, and I had only enough time to pay -a farewell visit to the home of my parents,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -where my brothers, ready like myself, awaited -me with their wives and children.</p> - -<p>Such an unforgettable repast. The paternal -table surrounded by the group of sons and -grandchildren, each still forcing himself to -smile to hearten the others, each in the bottom -of his heart wondering anxiously what the -morrow would unfold. Several of those who -on this final evening partook of the food prepared -by their mother, or touched their glasses -and drank “A la France,” “A la Victoire,” -will never return. They have fallen on the -field of honor, battling the odious invader, -breasting his blows and giving their lives that -their sons may remain French and free. No -one knew who would fall, who would be alive -a year, even a month later, but one would -have looked in vain for a quiver in any eye or -a tremor in any voice. All were French. All -accepted their duty, however it might present -itself; each in his rank, in his assigned place; -to do simply, without discussion, without hesitation, -whatever the threatened country might -demand of its children.</p> - -<p>We had the courage to laugh, at this last -dinner. We heard our father recall the memories<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -of the other war, that of 1870, in which -he had served as a volunteer, and then we -separated with words of au revoir and not -good-by on our lips.</p> - -<p>We were keenly conscious that everywhere -in France, in all the homes and in all the families, -an identical scene was presented at that -instant. At each table the mother offered -the departing ones a farewell repast; the wives -repeated their vows of affection, and the children -gave their tender love. Every one swore -to make the Prussian pay dearly for his provocation, -to chastise his insolence, to arrest -him, cost what it might, and to defeat him. -One entered the drama without effort and -almost without hatred, because it was unavoidable, -because France called and it was -necessary to defend her. One was sure of the -right, that the cause was just, and without -discussion one obeyed. French blood—the -blood which has flowed in so many wars, the -blood of Bouvines, of Valmy, and of Jena, -the blood of the Revolution and of 1870—surged -in the veins, quickened the pulse and -grimly expressed itself:</p> - -<p>“They shall not pass!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>The night of the second of August seemed -short. For myself, my preparations completed, -I retired early, well aware of the fatigues -to come; a little shaken, it must be -admitted, at the thought of leaving, for a time -which might be long, an abiding-place where -I had tasted so much of pure happiness and -calm joy with my young wife and our pretty -baby.</p> - -<p>Adventure, the great adventure of war, of -journeys, of battles, and of blood: Adventure -left behind so short a time before, as I had -believed, forever, had seized me again and -thrown me as an insignificant atom into the -path of the unknown, breaking all the bonds -whose forming had given me so much joy, and -whose stability had seemed so humanly sure.</p> - -<p>When the hour arrived for my departure, -I contemplated my deserted apartment, and -gave a last kiss to the pictures of my absent -loved ones. Then, in marching attire, my -light sack on my shoulder, I descended to the -street with firm step and heart beating high, -to begin my journey to the front.</p> - -<p>The animation of the streets was extraordinary. -All Paris seemed to have turned out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -to form an escort for the soldiers. These latter -were easily recognized by the stern resolution -of their faces, quite as much as by the accoutrement -they bore. Most of them were accompanied -by parents or friends; those who were -alone were constantly saluted by the crowds -as they passed. Many people offered their -carriages to the soldiers, and others had placarded -their motors with announcements that -they would carry mobilized men to the stations -without charge. Around these machines there -was an ever-increasing crowd.</p> - -<p>I entered this human wave. Immediately -one dropped the manner of civilian life and -became a soldier. By an old French habit, -obligatory in the barracks, all the men replaced -their formal speech by the intimate -forms—<i>le tutoyer</i>—reserved ordinarily for one’s -family and intimate friends.</p> - -<p>Costumes of all sorts were there; the long -coat of the workman, business suits, peasant -blouses, bourgeois jackets with a touch of color -given by the occasional red or blue uniform. -Hair-cuts were in equal variety, from the -tousled head of the peasant lad and the waving -curls of the student to the closely cropped<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -state of those who had anticipated the military -order. At the station all was well ordered. -The trains, requisitioned before our -coming, and with directions clearly indicated -by placards, were quickly filled. Throughout -the cars the men were singing and shouting, -giving assurance of triumph, of prompt return, -and of chastisement for the Boche. The -coaches were covered with inscriptions naïve -and gay.</p> - -<p>“Excursion-train for Berlin.”</p> - -<p>“Round trip to Germany.”</p> - -<p>“Good fellows’ compartment-car.”</p> - -<p>And a hundred others, many accompanied -by satirical drawings, showing occasionally -real talent on the part of the caricaturist. At -the hour fixed all moved forward. All these -men departed, singing; starting on their journey -toward battle, toward glory, and toward death, -while along the way, in the gardens or at the -doors of the houses, the women, the children, -and the old men waved their hands and their -handkerchiefs, threw kisses and flowers, endlessly -applauding, in a warm sentiment of love -and of recognition, those who went forth to -defend them.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>No one, perhaps, of all those who departed, -of all those who saluted, believed that the war -would be long, that it would involve the world -and become what it now is, the battle for human -freedom, the battle to death, or to the triumph -of democracy over autocracy.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">II<br /> - - -<small>THE INVASION</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">A SHORT time before the advent of the -world catastrophe, Mr. Nicholas Murray -Butler, president of Columbia University, -was in France. I had the pleasure of -meeting him in Paris. He gave me the first -copy, in French and English, of the report -of the American commission of inquiry concerning -the Balkan atrocities. This report -was made for the Carnegie Foundation, and -he asked me to spread the knowledge of it, as -far as possible, in my own country. I believed -then that I was doing well in drawing from -this interesting work a comparative study, -which chance, rather than choice, caused to appear -in the <i>Grande Revue</i>, in its number of July, -1914, only a few days before the outbreak of the -great war itself.</p> - -<p>I could not think, in writing this study, that -it would precede by so very short a time events -much worse, and that the Balkan atrocities,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -which were already arousing the conscience of -the civilized world, were about to be surpassed -in number and horror at the hand of one of -the nations claiming the direction of modern -progress: Germany! No, I could not dream -it, nor that I would be so soon a witness of it.</p> - -<p>Let us return to my strict rôle of soldier, -from which I have digressed. The digression -was necessary, however, for it will make more -comprehensible the amazing situation which -the war created for me. At the time the mobilization -took place I was accustomed to the -wide liberty of action, of thought, and of speech -which is usually enjoyed by the writers and -artists of France. In public places as well as -in certain drawing-rooms, I met the most illustrious -personages, both French and foreign, -whose presence gives to Paris much of its -unique charm. My own signature was sufficiently -well known to attract attention, and -life opened before me full of attraction. Suddenly, -from the fact that a demoniacal fanatic -had killed the Archduke Ferdinand and his -wife in the little, unknown town of Sarajevo, -the conflagration flamed forth. I abandoned -everything which, up to this time, had constituted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -the essential part of my life; everything -which had seemed worthy my attention -and care, to become, on the morrow, an unknown, -a soldier of the ranks, a number almost -without a name, without volition of my own, -without individual direction.</p> - -<p>This was, it still is, a great renunciation. -To really grasp its meaning, one must experience -it himself. However, by reason of the -importance assumed gradually by the World -War, by reason of the enormous number of -men called to the colors of every country of -the globe, the feeling which I experienced at -that time has become part of the common lot, -and before the end of the tragedy, the majority -of our contemporaries will have experienced -it to a greater or less degree.</p> - -<p>My order to report for duty directed me to -go to Caen. It is a lovely town in Normandy, -rich in superb monuments, of which one, “Abbaye -aux Hommes,” is an almost unequalled -marvel of twelfth-century architecture.</p> - -<p>I arrived in the evening, after a fatiguing -journey in a train packed with mobilized men, -who had already dissipated all social differences -by the familiarity of their conversation. Immediately<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -on our arrival we entered the barracks. -As there was not nearly enough room -for the throng of recruits, my company received -the order to join another in a temporary -camp, whither we hastened at full speed with -the hope of being able to sleep. This new lodging, -unfortunately, contained no conveniences -whatever: it was a riding-school, where the -young people of the town learned horsemanship, -and which offered us for bedding nothing -but the sawdust mixed with manure which -had formed the riding-track. It must be confessed -that one would need to have a large -measure of indifference to be entirely content -with this lodging. The unfortunate civilian -clothing, which we were still wearing, suffered -much from the experience.</p> - -<p>Dawn found us all up and moving about, -each one hunting, among the groups, those -who, through mutual sympathy, would become -more particularly “comrades,” or, to use a -word more expressive, more characteristically -French, “companions,” those with whom one -breaks bread.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></p> - -<p>The crowd was composed of the most diverse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -types, but the greater number were from Normandy. -Most of these Normans were farmers, -many of them well-to-do; a few were -dairymen and others horse-dealers. The rest -of the company was Parisian. It is the custom -in recruiting the French army to mix with -all the contingents a certain percentage of -Parisians, thus scattering over all of France, -and particularly along the eastern frontier, the -influence of the country’s capital. In the -French army the Parisian has the reputation -of being an excellent soldier; very alert, of -great endurance, light-hearted, and agreeable, -with a keen sense of humor which sweeps -away gloom and dispels melancholy. He is -also a bit hot-headed and does not yield -readily to discipline. The leaders know the -admirable results they can obtain by appealing -to the vanity or the sentiment of the Parisian, -and that he is capable of almost any effort is -freely admitted. They fear, however, his caustic -humor, his facile raillery and his eternal joking, -which sometimes endanger their prestige. At -least, these ideas existed before the war. Under -the fiery tests of these three years, all differences -of thought have melted as in a terrible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -crucible; and there has been brought about -a national unity so intimate and so absolute, -that one would not know how to make it more -perfect.</p> - -<p>Among my new comrades the differences -due to birthplace were quickly noted. By -the costume, the accent, or the general manner -it was easy to identify the native of the Calvados, -of Havre, or of Paris. Already these -affinities played their unfailing rôle, and in -the general bustle the groups formed according -to their origin. In the meantime every -face showed that species of childish joy which -always marks the French when they abandon -their individualities and become merged in a -crowd, as in the army. Their naturally carefree -spirit comes to the surface and colors all -their thought and action. They cease to feel -themselves responsible for the ordering of -their lives, and leave all to the authority which -controls them. This enables them to throw -aside all thought of their immediate needs, and -permits them, at whatever age, to recover a -youthfulness of spirit which is a perpetual -surprise to strangers, and which constitutes one -of their chief racial charms. Released from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -all care, they jest freely on all subjects, and -their spirit of quick repartee, their gifts of -observation and of irony develop amazingly—perhaps -to excess. They are just children, -big children, full of life and gayety, who laugh -at a joke and delight in a song; big children -who will suffer every fatigue and every pain -so long as they can retain their <i>esprit</i>, and -whom one may lead into any danger if one -knows how to provoke their good humor.</p> - -<p>War did not in the least change all this. -While perhaps most of the troop had done -little more than go through the motions of -slumber, and every one had missed something -of his customary comfort, no one seemed tired -when next morning’s reveille came. Each -improvised an occupation. One built a fire -between two stones that he might heat water -for the soup, another prepared vegetables, a -third helped the quartermasters in their accounts, -and still another volunteered to help -arrange the uniforms which were heaped up -in a barn commandeered to serve as a store-house. -In a short time the issuing of uniforms -commenced. In his turn each soldier received -his clothing, his equipment and all the regulation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -baggage. And such scenes, half comic, -half serious, as were enacted when the men -tried on and adjusted their hurriedly assembled -attire! Gradually, however, the long and -short, the lean and rotund, by a series of exchanges, -achieved a reasonable success in the -transformation, and the variety of civilian -aspect gave way to a soldierly uniformity.</p> - -<p>At this period, in spite of all the efforts to -secure a modification of the garb of the French -soldier, the uniform still consisted of the celebrated -red trousers and the dark-blue coat. -This too gaudy attire was a grave error, soon -to be corrected by stern experience. The red -trousers dated from about 1830, and had acquired -prestige in the conquest of Algeria and -the wars in Mexico and Italy. To it also attached -all the patriotic sentimentality aroused -by the struggle of 1870. So strongly intrenched -was it in popular fancy that it had triumphed -over its most determined foes, and this in spite -of the lessons regarding the visibility of the -soldier, furnished by modern combats such -as the Boer War and that between Russia -and Japan. In consequence, the whole French -army, excepting certain special troops such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -as the Chasseurs, the Marines, and a few -others, started for the front in this picturesque -but dangerous costume. On its side, it cannot -be doubted, it had a certain martial pride, a -pride so notable that it was remarked by the -Romans at the time of the conquest of Gaul. -This sentiment of sublime valor makes the -French prefer the hand-to-hand combat, in -which they excel and where each shows the -exact measure of his bravery, rather than the -obscure, intrenched warfare for whose pattern -the Boche has turned to the creeping -beasts.</p> - -<p>Therefore we were clothed in this glittering -fashion. However, as if the visibility of our -uniform had already disquieted our leaders, -they concealed our red head-gear by a blue -muff which completely covered the cap. It -was in this attire that the company formed, -that the ranks aligned and the two hundred -and fifty civilians of yesterday became the -two hundred and fifty soldiers of to-day; two -hundred and fifty soldiers of right and justice. -In like manner millions of others, scattered -through all the depots and barracks where -invaded France was arming herself, girded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -their loins and burnished their arms for the -sacred work of defending their homes.</p> - -<p>Although few details are visible to the individual -lost in the crowd, I feel sure that none -of us even tried to see beyond the affairs of -the moment. Certain things we could not -help knowing: The war had already reddened -our frontiers. Invaded Belgium battled desperately. -Liége resisted. King Albert, his -court, and the Belgian Government prepared -Antwerp for a prolonged defense. Our comrades -of the covering troops on one flank had -invaded Alsace, and on the other had advanced -to Charleroi. In the meantime, we, the soldiers -of future combats, busied ourselves with -preparations for our rôle with hardly a thought -for the struggles already under way, or those -of the future; this future so terrible which -awaited us. We were more occupied in choosing -our comrades than in considering the far-reaching -possibilities of such incidents as the -escape of the German cruisers <i>Goeben</i> and <i>Breslau</i>, -and their subsequent internment at Constantinople. -No, all that we learned from the -newspaper dispatches interested us far less than -the organization of our squads and platoons.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>I had the luck to find some good comrades, -one the son of a celebrated novelist, the other -an artist of some repute, and we three amused -ourselves in observing our new surroundings -and trying to foretell our next military moves. -Our officers engaged our careful attention, as -is natural in such circumstances. Our captain, -as the chief of our company, a brave man, -slightly bewildered by the astonishing rôle -which had suddenly fallen to him, was the object -of our special interest. We had the keenest -desire for a chief who knew his trade so thoroughly -that he would be able to lead us without -trouble in whatever crisis. The soldier is ever -thus. Without saying a word he examines his -officer, measures his qualifications, and then -reserves his confidence until the moment when -it is made certain that this confidence is well -placed and he need no longer fear the necessity -of revising his judgment. This judgment -which the soldier passes on his chief is definite, -almost without appeal, so rare is it -that circumstances will later cause a modification.</p> - -<p>These early days, it is true, did not give -our captain any opportunity to demonstrate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -his valor. Burdened with an important physical -task, that of transforming into soldiers -more than two hundred men who had left the -barracks years before; of clothing each according -to his measure; of answering all the -questions of the higher officers, and of watching -at the same time a hundred little details—he -was so busy that we had relatively little -opportunity to study him. We were already -armed, equipped and placed in the ranks before -we had caught more than a glimpse of -him; and then suddenly came the order to -move the regiment to C——, one of the most -important seaports of France.</p> - -<p>To entrain a regiment of three thousand -men with its baggage, its horses, its wagons, -its stores, and its service, has become mere -play for our strategists of to-day. To call it -a heavy task would make one smile, for it now -appears so simple. At the period of which I -speak, the month of August, 1914, when our -defense was hardly organized and when the -enemy rushed on, driving before him the terrified -populace, it was not, by long odds, the -simple problem of to-day. The railroads were -congested, there was a shortage of cars, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -orders were not always certain of prompt execution.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, in spite of these circumstances, -the regiment entrained, departed, reached its -destination without losing a minute or a man. -We reached our assigned place at the scheduled -time, just as if this tour de force had been -planned for a long time or had been made -easy by habit.</p> - -<p>We arrived thus in our garrison without -knowing each other, but none the less completely -equipped and accoutred, although less -than four days had elapsed since the mobilization -call had been sent to these three thousand -men, most of whom had forgotten all but the -rudiments of their military training. This -miracle of execution was reproduced throughout -our territory, and after three years of war -there has not arisen a single voice to claim -that the French mobilization failed in any -detail, or that in either plan or execution it -fell short of perfection.</p> - -<p>This was in reality a remarkable achievement. -It must be here noted that France -was prepared for the war neither in spirit nor in -material. Most of our citizens were pacifists,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -who refused even to acknowledge the possibility -of a war. Yet, when confronted by -the inevitable, each brought to the task an -abundant good-will and an enthusiastic patriotism -which gave speed and efficiency to -each act of the mobilization. This was in truth -the first step, the beginning of the “Miracle -of the Marne.” It was indeed a miracle, this -splendid co-ordination of good-will and eager -effort into an organization, enormous but almost -improvised, which worked without clash -or creaking, with an almost mathematical -ease that could not have been assured to a -method prepared and perfected by the most -careful study.</p> - -<p>After all, we were not destined to remain -long in our new post. In fact, we were hardly -installed when an order came which placed us -once more on the train, and sent us at last -to the frontier. We were delighted.</p> - -<p>Imagine, for the moment, these three thousand -men recently armed, barely organized -into squads and led by officers as yet unknown, -starting on their way to meet the enemy. It -was for them a veritable <i>début</i>. They were -still unaware of the tricks and brutality of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -German. Very few of us had heard more than -the vaguest discussion of the theories of Bernhardi -and the Teuton “Kriegspiel.” We knew -little of what was happening in Belgium, of -the desperate efforts of the heroic defenders -of Liége, or of the atrocities committed by the -invaders. There was no time to study and -explain the horrors of this war which threatened -to submerge us; no time to instruct the -soldiers; no time even to wait for munitions. -Speed was necessary. We must hasten to -offer our bodies, in the effort to check the black -wave which advanced so ominously.</p> - -<p>It was not a war which came. It was an -inundation. The numberless German host, -rolling on like a wave of mud, had already -covered Belgium, submerged Luxembourg and -filled the valleys of Lorraine. No one knew -if there would be time to check it. The army -of the front was fighting, no one knew just -where. The English army was not yet ready, -the Belgian army, that heroic handful was -giving way, and the French mobilization was -hardly finished. And here we were, rolling -on at full speed along the lines of the Eastern -Railway, to reach as soon as possible the frontier<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -of the Aisne, with two hundred rounds of -ammunition in our pouches and two days’ rations -in our sacks.</p> - -<p>We went where we were sent, passing trains -of terror-stricken refugees; speeding without -stop along the sentinel-guarded way; passing -Paris, then Laon, and finally arriving in the -middle of the night in a darkened city; a -terror-torn city, whose people gathered at -the station to receive us as liberators, acclaiming -our uniform as if it were the presage of -victory, as if it betokened a sure defense, capable -of rolling back the threatening enemy -and giving deliverance from danger.</p> - -<p>Poor people: I see them still in the touching -warmth of their welcome. I see them still, -as they crowded about to offer us refreshing -drinks or bread and eggs, and following us -clear to the fort which we were to defend, and -which they believed would protect the city -from all attacks.</p> - -<p>Here we were at last, at our point of rendezvous -with that grim monster: War. The -men of the regiment began to look about, and -especially I and my two friends, to whom I -was already bound in one of those quick soldierly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -friendships. We were ready to suffer -together, to share our miseries, and to give an -example to others. Because of our social position -and education and our superior training, -we felt capable of indicating and leading in -the path of obedience. However, neither of -my friends was able to follow the campaign -to the end. A weakness of constitution ended -the military career of one, while the other suffered -from an old injury to his legs. At this -early moment neither wished to think of his -own sufferings. They dreamed only of France -and the need she had for all they possessed of -strength and courage. In spite of their good-will -and stoutness of heart, neither of them -was able to endure the strain of military life -for any considerable period. A soldier should -be a man of robust physique and unfailing -morale. He should be able to withstand heat -and cold, hunger and thirst, nights without -sleep and the dull agony of weariness. He -should have a heart of stone in a body of steel. -The will alone is not enough to sustain the -body when worn by fatigue, when tortured -by hunger, when one must march instead of -sleep, or fight instead of eat.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>All these things I knew well. I had served -in war-time. I had marched on an empty -stomach when drenched by rain or burned -by the sun. I had drunk polluted water and -eaten the bodies of animals. I had fought. -I knew the surprises and hazards of war; hours -on guard when the eyes would not stay open; -hours at attention when the body groaned. -I knew the bark of the cannon, the whistle of -bullets, and the cries of the dying. I knew of -long marches in sticky mud, and of atrocious -work in the midst of pollution. I was a veteran -of veterans, earning my stripes by many years -of service, and therefore ready for any eventualities. -My gallant comrades knew little of -all this. Instinctively they looked to me for -instruction, and placed on me a reliance warranted -by my genuine desire to help them, as -well as my long military experience.</p> - -<p>Up to this time, however, the war had not -shown us its hideous face. Our immediate -task consisted of placing in a state of defense -an old, dismantled fort here on the edge of -French territory, and our orders were to hold -it as long as possible, even to death. We were -only a handful of men assigned to this heavy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -task, of which, it is true, we did not realize -the importance.</p> - -<p>Under the orders of our commander we hurriedly -cut down the trees which had overgrown -the glacis, made entanglements of branches, -and helped the artillerymen to furnish and -protect their casemates. Oh, the folly of this -moment, superhuman and heroic! We had -only a dozen cannon of antiquated model to -defend a defile of the first importance, and -there was neither reserve nor second line to -support our effort.</p> - -<p>Before us developed the Belgian campaign. -The battle of Charleroi was under way. In -the evening, after supper, when we went down -to visit the town and find recreation, if possible, -we heard the inhabitants discuss the -news in the papers as tranquilly as if these -events, happening only ten leagues from their -door, were taking place in the antipodes, and -as if nothing could possibly endanger them -and their interests.</p> - -<p>Trains bearing the wounded passed constantly -through the station. Those whose -condition was so serious that they could not -stand a longer journey were removed from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -trains and taken to the hastily improvised -hospitals. This we saw daily, and so did the -people of the town. We saw Zouaves, horsemen, -and footsoldiers return, blood-covered, -from the battle; frightfully wounded men on -stretchers, who still had the spirit to smile -at the onlookers, or even to raise themselves -to salute.</p> - -<p>Still, this town, so close to the battle, so -warned of its horrors, remained tranquil and -believed itself safe. Every day endless motor -convoys passed through on the way to the -front, bearing munitions and food without -disturbing this calm life. Shops were open -as usual, the cafés were filled, the municipal -and governmental services were undisturbed -in their operation, and the young women still -pursued the cheerful routine of their life, without -dreaming of the coming of the Uhlans and -the infamy the German brutes would inflict.</p> - -<p>Thus passed the days. We soldiers organized -our habitation, placed the rifle-pits in condition, -repaired the drawbridges and redressed -the parades.</p> - -<p>Ah! how little we knew of fortification, at -this period, so recent and already so distant!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -How little we had foreseen the manner of war -to which the Germans were introducing us. -We knew so little of it that we did not even -have a suspicion. We expected to fight, certainly, -but we had in mind a style of combat, -desperate perhaps, but straightforward, in -which cannon replied to cannon, rifle to rifle, -and where we bravely opposed our bodies to -those of the enemy. We were confident. We -reassured any timorous ones among the townspeople, -saying: “Fear nothing. We are here.”</p> - -<p>We were stupefied, civilian and soldier alike, -when the French army suddenly gave way and -rolled back upon us.</p> - -<p>In the ordinary acceptation of the term this -was a retreat. The regiments, conquered by -numbers, by novel tactics, and by new engines -of war, drew back from the plains of Charleroi. -I saw them pass, still in good order, -just below the fort, our fort where the work -of preparation continued. Each soldier was -in his rank, each carriage in its place. It was -at once magnificent and surprising. We questioned -these men with the utmost respect, for -we envied them. They came from battle, -they knew what fighting was like, and we could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -see a new flash in their eyes. They were tired -but happy. They were covered with dust -and harassed by fatigue, but proud of having -survived that they might once more defend -their native land. Most of them could tell -us but little, for they had only the most confused -notion of what had happened. They -were witnesses, but they had not seen clearly. -A formidable artillery fire had mown down -their comrades without their seeing an enemy -or even knowing definitely where the Germans -were. They had advanced and taken the formation -of combat, when, suddenly, the storm -broke upon them and forced them to retreat. -They were so astonished at what had befallen -them, that one could see in their faces, almost -in the wrinkles of their garments, the mark -of the thunderbolt.</p> - -<p>They marched in extended formation and -in excellent order, remaining soldiers in spite -of the hard blows they had borne. They kept -their distances, their rifles on their shoulders, -their platoons at the prescribed intervals, the -battalions following each other as in manœuvre -and bringing their pieces of artillery.</p> - -<p>It was an uninterrupted procession, an even<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -wave, which rolled along the road without -cessation. Some stragglers entered the town -and they were anxiously questioned. They -could tell only of their exhaustion and of small -details of the fight, describing the corner of -a field, the margin of a wood, the bank of a -river: the precise spot where the individual -had entered the zone of fire and had seen his -neighbors fall. This one had marched up a -hill, but couldn’t see anything when he got -there; another said his company had tramped -along singing, when suddenly the machine-guns -broke loose and his friends fell all about him; -a third told of joining the sharpshooters, of -throwing himself on the ground and, “My! how -it did rain.” One tall chap recalled that in the -evening his company had withdrawn to a farmhouse -where they paused for a bite to eat, after -which they made a détour. Such were the -scraps of information they gave, minute details -which told nothing.</p> - -<p>All these stories were a jumble. None of -these combatants had truly seen the war. Each -knew only what had happened to himself, and -even that he could not explain. These men -seemed to have just awakened from a nightmare,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -and their disjointed words told us nothing. -We, who listened with such tense interest, -were tortured with the desire to know if the -tide of battle was bringing nearer the chance -to prove our valor.</p> - -<p>We were eager for the fray. All our forces, -physical, mental, and spiritual, hungered for -the combat. Our tasks of the hour were insipid. -This incessant felling of trees, this clearing -away of brush, this myriad of fussy efforts -put forth for the refurbishing of our antiquated -fortress, held us in leash until the place seemed -like a suffocating tomb, whose cave-like quarters -we would never leave.</p> - -<p>In the town the people grew restless as the -French armies fell back. They knew no more -than we of the outcome of the battle of Charleroi, -but as they saw the endless procession -of convoys, of soldiers and of fugitive civilians, -they began to fear the worst.</p> - -<p>The German drive increased in power. -Now, Belgian soldiers began to be mixed in -the swift stream of the fleeing. Hussars, -guides, infantry, and linesmen, clad in picturesque -uniforms, copied from the first French -empire, poured by in disorder. Some were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -mounted on carts; others afoot, were leading -their foundered horses; and these haggard, -mud-covered men brought an air of defeat. -Their faces, sunken from hunger and distorted -from lack of sleep, told a story that sowed -terror and kindled a panic.</p> - -<p>The invasion presented itself at the gates -of the town with an unforgettable cortège. -Fear-stricken men deserted their fields, taking -with them such of their possessions as could -most quickly be gathered together. All means -of transport were employed. Vehicles of all -types and ages were piled high with shapeless -bundles of bedding and of clothing of women -and children. Some of the unfortunates were -pushing perambulators, on which they had -heaped such cooking-utensils as they had hurriedly -gathered up. Trembling old men guided -the steps of their almost helpless wives. Many -had left their tranquil homes in such haste -that they had not taken time even to fully -clothe themselves. With weeping eyes, quivering -lips, and bleeding feet they stumbled on. -One heard only words of terror:</p> - -<p>“They kill every one.”</p> - -<p>“They have killed my mother.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>“They have murdered my husband.”</p> - -<p>“They are burning the houses and shooting -the people as they try to escape.”</p> - -<p>Can you imagine such a sight? And this -never for an instant ceased. Three roads -joined each other at the edge of the town, and -each brought from a different direction its -tales of horror. Along one came the families -driven from the colliery shafts, another brought -the fishermen from the Scheldt, and the third -the bourgeoisie from Mons and Brussels. All -marched pell-mell along with the troops, slept -at the roadside, and ate when some interruption -on the congested route offered the opportunity. -All fled straight on, not knowing -whither.</p> - -<p>I found reproduced in this lamentable exodus -certain spectacles which I had witnessed years -before, but under vastly different circumstances. -Yes! I had seen things just like this, but on -a far-away continent where the fugitives were -not men of my own race. I had seen cities -taken by assault and whole populations fleeing -in terror. I had seen houses in flames and -corpses rotting in the fields. I had seen all the -drama and horror of an invasion and had looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -on with infinite pity. However, nothing in all -that had touched me as did the present. Those -flights had not taken place in my own country. -They were not my compatriots who had been -harried like so many animals, and driven from -their homes like frightened beasts, to be tracked -in the forests or hunted across the plains. They -were, nevertheless, poor, unfortunate humans. -Even in their panic and distress they were -still a little grotesque, owing to their strange -manners and costumes. Their natural abjection -had in it nothing of similarity to the -fierce grief of these Europeans, surprised in a -time of peace and in no way prepared to endure -submission.</p> - -<p>Once when I saw an exhausted old man fall -at the roadside, near our fort, and heard him -beg his companions to abandon him that they -might make better speed, I recalled a scene -indelibly graved on my memory. It was in -China. We were moving toward Pekin in -August, 1900. We pushed back before us the -Boxer insurgents, whom we, with the Japanese -and the Russians, had routed at Pei-Tsang. -One evening when hunger tortured us, some -companions and myself started out in search<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -of food. We reached a farm isolated in the -midst of a rice-swamp, and we entered, just -as armed men, conquerors, may enter anywhere. -There was not a soul in the numerous -buildings of the extensive plantation—or so it -seemed at first. Finally, I went alone into one -of the houses, and there came face to face with -a very old woman, shrivelled and bent, with -straggling wisps of hair, grimacing and repulsive. -She instantly thought that her last -hour had come. I had no bad intentions, but -she could read my white face no better than -I could have read her yellow countenance had -our positions been reversed. She was overcome -with fear, and her fright caused such -facial contortions that I had a feeling of deepest -pity for her. I tried without success to reassure -her. Each of my gestures seemed to her -a threat of death. She crouched before me, -supplicating with most piteous cries and lamentations, -until I, finding no gestures that would -explain what I wanted, left the room. She -followed me as I withdrew, bending to kiss -each footprint as if to express her gratitude for -the sparing of her life.</p> - -<p>At that time I had thought of what my own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -grandmother would feel were she suddenly -confronted by a German soldier in her own -home in France. My imagination had formed -such a vivid picture that I remembered it fourteen -years later when the real scene passed -before my eyes.</p> - -<p>Ah! Free men of a free country! Men -whose homes are safe from invasion, men who -need not dread the conflagration leaping nearer -and nearer, or the lust of your neighbor—fortunate -men, imagine these villages suddenly -abandoned; these families in flight; these old -men stumbling on the stones of the road; these -young girls saving their honor; these children -subjected to the hardships and dangers of such -an ordeal!</p> - -<p>Search your mind for a picture which may -aid you to visualize such a spectacle. For -no pen, no brush, not even a cinematograph -could depict that terrified mob, that throng -pushing on in the rain and the wind; the flight -of a people before another people, the flight of -the weak and innocent before the strong and -guilty.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">III<br /> - - -<small>THE MARNE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap2">AS the result of tenacity and strenuous effort, -our work of defense progressed. -We had been able to build a smooth, -sloping bank all around the fort, to place entanglements -before the principal entrance, and -to arrange such cannon as we had at our disposal. -We put iron-bars in front of the windows -to break the impact of shells, and baskets filled -with sand at passage entrances. We had sufficient -provision to last a month. We built -a country oven that we might bake bread and -not be reduced by famine.</p> - -<p>We were tired, but confident, the enemy -might come now. Each of us knew the spot -he should occupy on the rampart, and we had -not the least doubt of our power of resistance. -The commander redoubled the exercises and -drills, and each day notices were posted near -the guard-house saying that we must hold -the fort unto death, that surrender was absolutely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -forbidden. As for the men, we were -equally determined to offer resistance to the -end.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, we came to know each -other better day by day, and genuine sympathies -grew into solid friendships. In addition -to my two friends of the first hour, I -found myself associated with some excellent -comrades. There was Yo, a splendid young -Norman, strong as a giant, a carpenter by -trade. He was persistently good-natured, and -knew a thousand amusing stories. He had an -anecdote or witticism ready for all occasions. -Then there was Amelus, whom we dubbed -“Angelus.” With his little, close-set eyes, -small features, narrow shoulders, he was as -nearly as possible the physical type of a Paris -gamin. He possessed also the gamin’s quick -repartee and unalterable good humor.</p> - -<p>This man, who was killed later, deserves -special mention. He was an anti-militarist. -That is to say, before the war he constantly -asserted, as a point of honor, in season and -out of season, his hatred of the whole military -business; and detested, without clearly knowing -why, every one who wore an army uniform.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -When I first met him, the war had not yet -changed his habit. He indulged freely in vituperation -of the officers, from the highest to -the lowest; but this veneer covered a truly -patriotic spirit, for whenever an officer asked -a service he instantly offered himself. He -volunteered for every rough job, and although -he was not strong nor of robust health, he managed -to accomplish the hardest kinds of labor, -and would have died of the effort swearing -that he “wished to know nothing about it, -and no one need expect anything of him.”</p> - -<p>This type of man was very numerous in -France before 1914, and experience has proved -that much could be counted on from them, -whenever the occasion arose to put them to -the test.</p> - -<p>Such as he was, with his comic fury, with -his perpetual tirades against the officers, and -still very evident good-will, he amused us -greatly. One heard often such colloquies as -this:</p> - -<p>“A man wanted to cut down trees!”</p> - -<p>“Take me!” cried Amelus.</p> - -<p>“A volunteer to carry rails!”</p> - -<p>“Here I am!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>Once accepted, bent under the heaviest -burdens, he poured out his heart; he cursed -his ill fortune, he pitied himself, he growled -and groaned. That aroused the irony of Yo. -There was a continual verbal tussle between -the two men, the one groaning and the other -responding with raillery, which spread joy -among us all.</p> - -<p>Yes, we laughed. The tragic events which -were closing in upon us, which were drawing -nearer irresistibly, did not yet touch us sufficiently -to frighten us much. We laughed at -everything and at nothing. We laughed like -healthy young men without a care, men who -have no dread of the morrow, and who know -that, whatever may happen, the soup will -be boiled and the bread will come from the -oven when it is needed. We had not yet become -really grave, certainly no one had suffered, -when, our task of preparing the fort -completed, we went to the embankment and -witnessed the ghastly procession of fugitives. -That froze the heart of each of us. So many -old men, women, and children, thrown out at -random, thrown out to the fierce hazard of -flight, stripped of all their possessions! The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -sight was distressing, and the visible horror of -their situation brought tears to the eyes of -the most stolid.</p> - -<p>The hours passed rapidly. The last French -troops fell back, the town was evacuated. -Trains packed to the last inch carried away -every one who could find room. When we -went out in the evening, we found closed the -shops which had been open the day before. -Their owners were hastening to find shelter -and safety.</p> - -<p>The enemy was approaching. We felt it -by a hundred indications, but we did not suspect -how close he had come.</p> - -<p>He arrived like a whirlwind. One evening -we were told to remain in the fort, to take our -places for the combat, to prepare cannon, cartridges, -and shells. During the day an aeroplane -had flown over the fort, and it was a -German machine. Disquieting news preceded -the invader. It was brought by some straggling -soldiers: men panting, miserable, dying of -thirst and hunger, who had been lost in the -woods, and had covered twenty leagues to -make their escape. They recounted things -almost unbelievable. They had seen Belgian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -villages as flaming torches, and they told their -experiences little by little, with a remnant of -horror in their eyes, and an expression of bravery -on their faces. We gave them drink. They -scarcely stopped their march, but took the -bottles or glasses offered, and emptied them -while continuing on their way. The fear of -being taken bit at their heels. “Save yourselves!” -they cried to the women, “they are -coming!”</p> - -<p>After they were gone, the people gathered -in large groups, seeking further information -on the highroad. The road was clouded with -dust and alive with movement, where other -fugitives, more hurried than the first, pushed -their way, and threw out, in passing, bits of -news still more alarming. Haggard peasants -explained that the Germans were pillaging -houses, ravaging everything. From these -strange reports one would have believed himself -transported into another age, carried back -to the period of the great migrations of -peoples.</p> - -<p>“They have taken away my daughter,” -wailed a woman in tears, “and have set fire -to the farmhouse.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>“They shot my husband!” cried another, -“because he had no wine to give them.”</p> - -<p>The terror of the populace increased and -spread. Mothers went to their houses, gathered -together some clothes and their daughters, -then followed the throng of fugitives. Old -men started out on foot. The threatening flail -swept the country, even before it was seen, -preceded by a groan of agony and of fear as -the thunder-storm is preceded by the wind.</p> - -<p>And we soldiers, with no exact knowledge -of the situation, we awaited orders and completed -our preparations for resistance. We -lifted the drawbridges, we put in place the -ladders, the tubs of water to put out fire, the -tools to clear crushed roofs and arches. We -never thought of flight. We had a sort of pride -in remaining at the last stand, in protecting -the retreat of all the others, and we strove to -give encouragement to the civilians departing. -But we were eager for news, and seized upon -all rumors.</p> - -<p>About four o’clock in the afternoon a rumor -passed like a gust of wind. Some outposts -came running: “They are here!” They told -of the attack on their position five kilometres<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -away. Five of their number had been killed, -six taken prisoner by the Germans. This time -the invasion was rolling upon us. We almost -touched it. We felt the hot breath of battle, -we were going to fight, we were going to offer -resistance.</p> - -<p>This was an impression more than a certainty. -Explosions could be heard in the distance: -the engineers were blowing up bridges -and railroads, in order to create obstacles and -retard the advance of the enemy. The foe -seemed to arrive everywhere at the same time. -He was discerned on the right and on the left, -at each cross-road, advancing in deep columns, -and preceded by a guard of cavalry, the terrible -Uhlans, who were plundering everything -in their way.</p> - -<p>We felt, rather than saw, the nearness of -the invaders. We could do nothing but wait. -In spite of the efforts exerted by the officers -to quiet the men, there was among them an uncontrollable -restlessness: inaction was intolerable.</p> - -<p>It was a great relief to be able to accept, -with several comrades, a piece of work outside -the fort. This had to do with blowing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -up a viaduct. We set out, much envied by -those left behind. We advanced with customary -precaution, following one point of -light carried by an advance-guard. Naturally, -this position was taken by Amelus, the habitual -volunteer, followed by Yo, the giant, whose -muscular force inspired confidence in every -one.</p> - -<p>We had not far to go. At the railway-station, -we learned that the last train had just left, -taking away the portable property of the station, -and all the people who could pack themselves -into the coaches. There was no longer, -then, any assurance of rapid communication -with the rear. The struggle was really commencing.</p> - -<p>Our destination was scarcely two kilometres -away. It was a railway-viaduct crossing a -valley. We arrived quickly. The blast of -powder was prepared in an arch by the engineers; -our part was only to watch and protect -the operation. A sharp detonation, an -enormous cloud of smoke, the whole mass -swaying, splitting, falling, the reverberating -echo, and the route is severed. The trains of -the invasion will be compelled to stop: there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -is an abyss to cross, which will make the assailant -hesitate perhaps an hour. Although -our work was swiftly accomplished, it seemed -that it must be effective. We had nothing to -do but regain our fort and await events.</p> - -<p>However, it is late when we arrive. Night -has fallen. On our left, an immense glow stains -with blood the leaden sky: it is Fourmies which -is burning, fired by the enemy. It is a French -town which is the prey of flames, the first one -we have seen thus consumed before our eyes, in -the horror of darkness; while on the highroad -rolls constantly the flood of refugees, carts, -wagons, carriages, all sorts of conveyances of -town and country, jumbled together with -bicycles and pedestrians, the turbulent throng -of a province in flight, of a people driven by -a horde.</p> - -<p>In subtle ways the fort itself has changed -character. It breathes war. Sand-bags are -placed about the walls, sentinels watch on the -ramparts, orders are given and received under -the arches. Our comrades ask anxiously: -“What have you seen?” We give an account -of our exploit, while eating a hurried bite, then -we imitate our comrades, and, following the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -order received, we take up our sacks and prepare -all our accoutrement.</p> - -<p>There is still some joking, at this instant. -Yo attempts some of his raillery, Amelus once -more pours vituperation on the army, but their -pleasantries fall without an echo. We are -grave. The unknown oppresses us. We are -attentive, and await the slightest order of our -superiors. The commandant calls the officers -together. The conference is prolonged, and -we know nothing precise in the half-light of -our fortress chambers. What is going on? -Will we be attacked this evening? Will the -defense be long? We exchange opinions and -assurances: “There are two hundred rounds -of ammunition apiece!”</p> - -<p>Two hundred rounds! That means how -many hours of fighting? Shall we be reinforced? -Are there troops in the rear? And -in front? No one knows. Those who affirm -that there are troops in front of us meet a slight -credence, which gives way immediately to -doubt and then to a certainty to the contrary. -Numberless contradictory pieces of information -clash together, mingle, intercross:</p> - -<p>“There is fighting at Maubeuge.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>“The enemy is withdrawing on the Meuse!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he has lost all his cannon.”</p> - -<p>“But he is advancing on us here!”</p> - -<p>All these statements jostled each other in -the general uncertainty. Suddenly, at the -door of the chamber, I saw our lieutenant, a -splendid soldier, upright and frank. He was -speaking to one of my comrades. Scenting a -special mission, I approach them. I am not -mistaken. “Silence!” says the officer, “I -need six resolute men, and no noise.”</p> - -<p>“Take me, lieutenant,” I ask.</p> - -<p>“If you wish.”</p> - -<p>“And me, too,” begs Amelus.</p> - -<p>“All right, you too, and Yo. Meet me immediately -in the courtyard, with your knapsacks.”</p> - -<p>We meet in a few minutes. My friend Berthet -rushes in. “Wont you take me, too?” “Certainly. -Come quickly.”</p> - -<p>And now we are outside the fort, with knapsack -and gun. We are delighted with this godsend, -without knowing what it is all about: -at least we are moving about, doing something, -and that is the main thing.</p> - -<p>“Be careful,” commands the lieutenant, -“to the right! Forward, march!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>We leave by the postern gate. We are on -the embankment. The night is dark, the -heavens are black except where the blood-red -reflection of burning towns marks the path -of the Germans. In silence we make our way -down the steep slope of the fort.</p> - -<p>“Halt! Load!”</p> - -<p>We fill the magazines of our rifles. Ten -paces farther on we meet the last sentinels. -The password is given, we proceed. We go -toward the town, as far as the highroad, where -the flight of the distracted populace continues. -Amidst a tangle of conveyances, pedestrians -slip through mysteriously and hurry by. They -jostle us, then make way for us in the throng. -At last we stop. The town is only a hundred -metres distant, without illumination, but much -alive, full of the hubbub of the last departing -civilians.</p> - -<p>“Listen,” says the lieutenant, “this is your -errand: a group of Uhlans has been reported -about eight hundred metres from here. At -this moment they must be occupying the civilian -hospital. They must not be permitted to -pass. Two men will hide themselves here, -two others there. The others will guard the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -cross-road. In case you sight them, give them -your magazine and fall back on the fort to give -the alarm. Do you understand? Go to it!”</p> - -<p>In such moments, one’s intelligence is abnormally -active: one understands instantly, -and each man seems to take his own particular -rôle by instinct. I advance with Berthet to -take the most forward post: it is where adventure -is most likely. The others leave us, -to take their own positions. So there we are, -he and I, alone as sentinels, at the edge of the -highroad—the road which is the path of the -invasion, where rolls unceasingly as a torrent -the stream of fugitives.</p> - -<p>“You tell me what to do,” says Berthet, -“I will take your orders.” “It is very simple,” -I respond, “one knee on the ground. In the -deep grass you will not be seen. For myself, -I am going onto the road itself. I will stop -any one who looks suspicious. Don’t worry, -and don’t let your gun go off unless you hear -me fire.” “Very well.” “Oh, another thing! -If we are attacked, we will fire, then run for -the fort without following the road. Our companions -will fire, and we must cut across the -fields. Do you agree?” “Yes.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>I leave him, to take my post just at the edge -of the road, eyes and ears on the alert, finger -on the trigger. A host of memories crowd -my brain. How often in other days have I -stood guard in just this manner! I recall similar -hours which I experienced in China, at -Tonkin, in the Sahara. I feel once more the -intense poetry which is inspired by such a -vigil: a poetry incomparable to any other; -a poetry in which alert action is mingled with -the strangeness of night, with the thousand -noises of a stirring populace, with the imminence -of danger, with visions crowding up -from the past, with all that surrounds us and -all that flees from us. Less than a fortnight -ago, at this hour, I used to write my daily -article. My young wife, in our dainty dining-room, -was rocking the baby to sleep. Or I -was correcting proof on my forthcoming book, -and she came to sit near me, her fingers busy -with some fine needlework. She always placed -on my desk the flowers from the dinner-table, -and I thanked her for being so good, so pretty, -so loving and thoughtful, by a swift stolen -kiss on her rosy finger-tips. I read to her the -last page I had written. She smiled and approved.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -Our confidence was complete. She -had faith in my ability, I rejoiced to know -that she was mine. We were so happy——</p> - -<p>To-day, with loaded gun, with every nerve -strained, I lie in wait for an advancing enemy. -My wife is far away. She has shelter, at least. -Without doubt she dreams of me, as I dream -of her, and she trembles and she fears the future, -the danger, death. My brothers—where are -they?—and their wives, and our parents, and -all my dear ones, like myself, like all of France, -thrown into war, into danger, into suffering. -And all the children, and all the helpless women, -and old men, all counting on us, on our stoutness -of heart, to defend and to save them.</p> - -<p>My meditations did not in the least interfere -with my watchfulness. From time to -time I stopped a passer-by.</p> - -<p>“Halt there!”</p> - -<p>“We are French.”</p> - -<p>“Advance slowly, one by one.”</p> - -<p>The poor creatures were terrified and bewildered.</p> - -<p>“We are trying to escape!”</p> - -<p>“Pass on.”</p> - -<p>After a bit I return to see Berthet.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>“Anything new?” “No, nothing.” “Supposing -you look around more at the left.” “All -right.”</p> - -<p>I resume my place. All at once, I hear the -clatter of horses’ hoofs. Berthet rejoins me. -“Do you hear that?” “Yes. It must be they. -Don’t forget. Fire, then run across fields.”</p> - -<p>The cavalcade approaches, is clearly audible. -With eyes strained, I can still see nothing in -the blackness. Suddenly I catch the glitter -of helmets.</p> - -<p>“Halt, there!”</p> - -<p>“Gendarmes!” cries a voice, “don’t shoot!” -French gendarmes, in retreat!</p> - -<p>“Advance slowly, one by one.”</p> - -<p>The troop halts. One horseman advances, -stops at ten paces from my bayonet.</p> - -<p>“I am a brigadier of the gendarmes, brigade -of Avor. I have not the password.”</p> - -<p>The voice is indeed French. I recognize -the uniform—but I still fear a possible trap.</p> - -<p>“Command your men to pass, one by one.”</p> - -<p>The order is executed without reply. Some -ten men file by.</p> - -<p>“Look out for yourselves,” says the last -horseman, “the Uhlans are at our heels.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>“Thanks for the information. Tell that -to the officer whom you will meet about a hundred -metres from here.” “Good luck to you.”</p> - -<p><i>Ouf!</i> Berthet and I both grow hot. The -watching brings us together, we remain together. -One feels stronger with company.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It begins to rain—only a mist at first, then -a steady rain. The poor fugitives tramp along, -miserable, driven ghosts, weird figures in the -blackness of the night. Some of them give -scraps of information in passing.</p> - -<p>“They are at the chapel.”</p> - -<p>“They are arriving at Saint Michel.”</p> - -<p>“There are twenty Uhlans at the <i>mairie</i>.”</p> - -<p>Our lieutenant makes his round. “Nothing -new?” “Nothing, sir.” “Very well, I am -going to look about, as far as the town. I will -be back in about fifteen minutes.” “Very -well, sir.”</p> - -<p>He disappears, swallowed up in the darkness. -We wait. It rains harder and harder. The -water runs in rivulets on our shoulders, trickles -down our necks, soaks our shirts. From time -to time we shake ourselves like wet spaniels. -There is nothing to do but wait. It would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -not do to seek shelter. Besides, there is no -shelter. When one is a sentinel in full campaign, -one must accept the weather as it comes. -If it is fine, so much the better; if it is frightful, -too bad! It is impossible to provide comforts, -or conveniences. If the sun burns you -or the rain soaks you, if the heat roasts you or -the cold freezes you, it is all the same. The -strong resist it, the weak succumb: so much -the worse! One is there to suffer, to endure, -to hold his position. If one falls, his place is -filled. So long as there are men, the barrier -is raised and put in opposition to the enemy. -“<i>C’est la guerre.</i>” That is war: a condition -in which only the robust man may survive; -where everything unites madly to destroy, to -obliterate him, where he must fight at the -same time his adversaries and the elements -which seem to play with him as the breeze -plays with the leaf on the tree.</p> - -<p>However, the night was advancing. The -Great Bear, intermittently visible between -the clouds, had already gone down in the sky, -and we were still there. The crowd still surged -on, as dense as ever. The people came from -every quarter. Very few were gathered into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -groups. Here and there some worn-out soldiers -were seen, who asked information and -vanished in haste. In the background of the -dark picture of the night were the burning -villages and towns, but their flames were subsiding, -their ruddy glow was waning. The -fires seemed to have reached the end of their -food, exhausted by a night of violence. Sudden -puffs of sparks rising with the smoke already -foretold their extinction.</p> - -<p>Berthet, my comrade, was pale in the twilight -dawn. “You have had enough of it?” -I say to him. “Oh! no,” he responds, “it is -nothing but nervousness.”</p> - -<p>The most critical moment was approaching: -the dawning of day, that troubled moment -when fatigue crushes the shoulders of the most -valiant, when the vision confuses distances -and blurs objects, when all one’s surroundings -take on a strange, uncanny appearance. Dawn, -lustreless and gray, the dawn of a day of rain, -rising sulkily, drippingly, coming pale and -wan to meet men broken by an anxious vigil, -is not a pleasing fairy, is not the divine Aurora -with fingers of light; and yet, it brings solace. -With its coming the vision is extended; it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -pierces the fog, identifies the near-by hedge, -the twisted birch, the neighboring knoll of -ground. Day breaks. The shadows disappear, -objects regain their natural aspect, and -the terrors created by the night vanish.</p> - -<p>Thus it was with us. I was pleased with -Berthet. He had carried himself well, and I -told him so. That pleased him. He was a -boy whose self-esteem was well developed, who -could impose upon a rather weak body decisions -made by his will.</p> - -<p>“I was afraid of only one thing,” he said, -“and that was that I might be afraid.” I -smiled and answered: “But you will be afraid. -It is only fools who know not fear, or deny it. -Every one knows fear. Even the bravest of -the brave, Maréchal Ney himself, knew it -well.”</p> - -<p>At this moment our lieutenant returned -from his hazardous expedition, without having -observed anything remarkable, and there was -nothing for us to do but wait for other sentries -to relieve us, or for orders specifying a new -mission.</p> - -<p>Nothing of the sort came, at first. If we -had been abandoned in a desert, our solitude<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -could not have been more complete. As far -as the eye could see, we could not detect a -living thing. There were no more fugitives. -We two were guarding a bare highroad where -neither man nor beast appeared.</p> - -<p>At last, some one was seen coming from -the fort. It was a comrade bringing coffee -and news. While we were absorbing with -delight the hot drink which seemed to make -renewed life throb in our veins, he recounted -the events which had taken place behind us, -and in some manner under our protection.</p> - -<p>“The boys,” he said, “have left. The fort -will be blown up. It seems that we have waited -too long already. The Germans have gone -by, now. We are surrounded. No one knows -how those animals slip by, but there is fighting -all around us.”</p> - -<p>“No! Is that true?”</p> - -<p>“Truest thing you know. Last night we -put mines in the powder-magazine. There are -eight metres of fuse. We will light it on -leaving. You are going to see some fireworks.”</p> - -<p>We did not know what to say, at first. We -could not doubt the accuracy of the information<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -supplied by our comrade, but Berthet’s -surprise was extreme. The most difficult thing, -in war, is to be willing to comprehend nothing -of what surrounds you near at hand, and to -content yourself to live as does an animal. -Always one tries to reason, to use logic, and -nothing is further removed from reason and -logic than important events in which one is -plunged, but of which one sees but an infinitesimal -part, too small to form even an approximate -idea of the whole.</p> - -<p>“How,” says Berthet, “could the enemy -pass by in force, without using this road?” -I shook my head. “Who knows?” “I don’t -know how it was done,” declared our comrade, -“but they have passed us. As proof, -three kilometres from here they took by surprise -a squad asleep in a farmhouse. The -Uhlans arrived without any one suspecting, -and made them all prisoners.”</p> - -<p>A sharp whistle cut short our reflections. -Our lieutenant called us. We joined him and -found, at the turn of the road, the entire garrison, -ready for departure. They were only -awaiting the signal from the commandant. -The ranks were formed, the captains were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -mounted on their horses, the lieutenants and -the sergeants were overseeing the last preparations.</p> - -<p>We took our places in silence, not having -slept at all, and having had the sack buckled -on our shoulders for twelve hours in the rain. -The rain had not ceased. The troop was enveloped -in it as in a gray veil, and the wet -faces of the men expressed dejection. Their -moustaches drooped, their caps were pulled -down, their looks were sullen. Even Yo himself, -with his unvarying good humor, could -not find another word with which to revive -the spirits of the men. Only Amelus could -be heard growling somewhat more vigorously -than usual.</p> - -<p>Weather has an enormous effect on the -morale of troops, as on all human agglomerations. -We were all more or less touched by -the malign influence of the rain. No jest flashed -from the ranks as is usual in a French troop, -where bantering springs from the lip involuntarily, -where chaffing is as natural as the air -one breathes, as necessary as bread. A regiment -remains alert and strong so long as this -spirit of optimism remains; but at the moment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -of which I speak, when we were drenched -with rain, when we saw our country invaded, -when we knew ourselves to be surrounded by -the enemy, we were morose and feared the -worst. However, it was only necessary that -there should be an unexpected peal of laughter -to bring light to every face, and that was what -happened soon after we were given the order -to march.</p> - -<p>Indeed, the column was scarcely in motion, -when the irrepressible Yo burst forth with a -raucous tone in one of the most ancient songs -of the march, one of those which are transmitted -from generation to generation. Instantly, -another voice responded, then another, -then a chorus. And then, in the downpour -of rain, on a road so water-soaked that -one sunk to the ankle at each step, it was no -longer a surrounded regiment in flight, but -a troop sprightly, gay, and confident and, like -their Gallic ancestors, having nothing to fear -but this: that the weeping heavens might really -fall on their heads.</p> - -<p>We had not been on the march an hour when -a terrific explosion was heard, reverberating -overhead. It was the mined fort which was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -blowing up. All the work of those last days -was flying into the air in a re-echoing crash of -bricks, ironwork, shells, and guns. Our labor -was wiped out. Nevertheless, it had not been -in vain. Thanks to its existence, the German -army which had faced us had been retarded -twenty-four hours in its advance. Indeed, -their advance-guards had encountered that garrisoned -fort, and had been obliged to await -the arrival of artillery sufficient to reduce and -take it. This delay had permitted the last -French troops to retreat without trouble. They -were safe when the fort, henceforth useless, -blew up. It left nothing for the hand of the -enemy, and its mission was accomplished. -A battle would have added to our work nothing -but blood. Our chiefs were wise in sparing -that.</p> - -<p>It was not until later that we knew all this. -At that moment we did not look so far. We -pursued our way singing, in a deluge of rain, -overtaking distracted fugitives along the route: -exhausted old men, women carrying and leading -children, who moved aside to make way -for us, then stumbled in our wake. We passed -through villages already deserted, a forsaken<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -countryside where the rain beat down the fields -of barley and ripe wheat. On we went. In -passing, we gathered fruit from the trees. At -the fountains and springs we drank water made -turbid by the rain. We sang. We heard, -somewhere, the roar of the cannon. We had no -idea where it thundered so. It seemed ahead -of us and behind us. As we saw nothing terrifying, -as there was no visible evidence of a -battle, we advanced constantly, quite light-hearted, -without knowing that we were passing -through one of the great battles of the -beginning of the war, one of the decisive -struggles which did much to retard the advance -of the enemy; that our column, quite -ignorant of events, was thus marching freely -across the battle of Guise.</p> - -<p>That, at foundation, is not so impossible -as might appear. Shortly after, we had occasion -to verify such zones of silence in the -midst of violent action. Yes, one may be in -the midst of battle and not be aware of it. -Even at Austerlitz the guard had not yet -charged, half the troops had not broken a cartridge, -when the battle was won.</p> - -<p>This time our battle was to be gained by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -our legs, and consisted solely of marching. -And we marched. And we took no account -of fatigue, nor that the men who hastened -along the road were all unaccustomed to marching. -One month before, all of us were civilians. -Some were in offices, bending over books; others -sold dry goods, others were at work-benches -or in construction-yards. We were required -to make an unprecedented effort, to which -none of us was trained. We were asked to -march for hours, for a day, for a night, none -knew how long. We must advance, cost what -it might, follow an unfamiliar road, avoid ambuscades, -regain the rear of our army, rejoin -other formations which, farther on, were grouping -under orders identical with our own.</p> - -<p>We went on. The officers had their orders, -we followed them. And we sang to drive away -fatigue, to forget misery, to escape the thought -of the heavy knapsack, of the cartridges dragging -on our shoulders, of all the military harness, -so useful but so heavy, which weighed -down each step of the soldier. We crossed -fields of freshly ploughed ground. We climbed -slopes, descended hills, traversed plains. We -went straight toward the south, covering on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -foot the route by which we had come to the -fort in the train; a route which had become -interminable, cut only by a pause every fifty -minutes, when one could stretch his aching -limbs, could pierce the swollen blisters on his -heels, could break a crust of bread or drink -a swallow of water.</p> - -<p>Some civilians followed and attached themselves -to us in the hope of protection. There -were women who marched close to the ranks, -others who confided their infants for a stage -to near-by soldiers, still others gave up, exhausted, -and fell on the stones, with eyes rolled -back, full of terror and a sort of reproach. They -felt themselves abandoned, too worn out to -follow longer, given over to all the tragic misery -of the invasion. And we turned our eyes that -we might not see, in an agony of soul that we -must leave them, that we could not help them, -that we could not take them with us; ourselves -crushed by the burdens of the soldier, -hard pushed to arrive at a destination still so -far away, at the spot selected for the halt, -for rest, for sleep.</p> - -<p>We went on, and fatigue began to weigh -upon us. Some comrades suddenly quit the -ranks, threw down their sacks with a wild<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -gesture, and fell to the ground. They were -the physically weak, those first overwhelmed -by the burden, whom the enemy would gather -up in his advance and take away prisoner, an -easily won booty. The underofficers tried to -make these men rise and continue their way, -without much success. They were at the end -of their strength, incapable of further effort. -They gave up and fell. They accepted whatever -fate awaited them. They had struggled -to the extreme limit of endurance. One had -marched for several hours with the soles of -his feet entirely blistered away from the flesh; -another had persisted though suffering intolerably -from hernia. Some had foam on -the chin. Several attempted suicide. Their -firearms were taken from them and were given -to another man to carry for a time. The latter -soon threw them away because of their weight, -first breaking them that they might not be -of service to the enemy. Every one began -to relieve himself of superfluous articles. We -threw away linen and change of shoes; then -rations. We emptied our pockets; discarded -our jackets.</p> - -<p>We marched, and marched, and marched: -a march without end. There was no pause,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -no aim, no goal. We marched. We sought -the horizon, and must push on still, as one -horizon stretched away and gave place to another, -which again must be passed as the first. -The day lengthened. The road was never-ending. -One after the other the hours rolled -on, and still we marched. We encountered -vehicles stuck in the mire, which no one attempted -to help out of the ruts. We encountered -horses in the last throes of agony, struggling -one last time to move one foot before -the other, then stiffening in death. We encountered -automobiles in flames, others in -smoking ashes. We encountered encampments -of poor wretches, waiting at the edge of -the road for a better hour. We encountered -lost children. Here and there we came upon -a house pillaged, devastated, bare, where remained -no crust of bread, where even the wells -had been emptied of water. With difficulty -one could draw from them a little muddy liquid. -The men chewed some beet-roots torn up in a -field, to allay the burning thirst. Then night -approached. We still marched. The twilight -spread her veil of mist and blood. We marched. -The shadows fell. We marched. Night came. -We marched. We stumbled on the stones<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -which seemed to rise from the road; over the -wagon-ruts which cut it, on the slopes which -bordered it. We marched. There were unexpected -stops, when the column, suddenly -halted at some point forward, folded back -upon itself like a telescope. The men jostled -and swore. Wagons were crushed, horses fell, -in an indescribable confusion. Some soldiers -fell, and did not rise again. Then the movement -resumed. We marched again, and -marched, and stopped, and went on.</p> - -<p>There was no more singing. There was no -more talking. Occasionally an oath. We discarded -knapsack, clothing, food, even letters, -in hope of relief, and marched on toward our -goal with groans.</p> - -<p>At last we stopped. We were in the midst -of a black plain, lighted only by a few dim -fires, where the mud was almost knee-deep. -We threw ourselves down, broken, inert masses, -without strength to spread a blanket on the -ground, asleep before we touched the earth. -We had covered seventy kilometres in one -forced march, and no longer heard the cannon.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Thus we slept, like brutes, until morning. -It was not long. The early light shone on a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -marsh made humpy by the bodies of men sleeping -under the mist. There were soldiers of all -departments of service; Zouaves, infantry, -cavalry, artillery, fallen where they happened -to be, without order, and all but a few still -sleeping. These few had lighted large bonfires, -where they warmed themselves. The -light of the fires also attracted many women, -children, and old men, who stretched toward -the grateful warmth limbs stiffened by cold. -The fires were fed with branches of trees, broken -parts of wagons, anything ready at hand without -too much effort to gather.</p> - -<p>The result was a more or less comforting -warmth for the benumbed creatures who -crowded around, in a surprisingly promiscuous -assemblage. Some were heating soup made -from heaven knows what, others attempted to -dry their shirts and blouses, soaked by sweat -and rain. The rain had ceased, but the sky -remained gray, covered with hostile clouds. -The vision was limited by a low-hanging fog. -On the road, the procession of retreat continued -to roll, disordered, in nervous haste -and at the same time slow. The underofficers -reassembled our troop. We must start again,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -enter the column surging along the road, resume -the flight, take up the march, press on -still farther, and gain ground.</p> - -<p>With the new day the cannon again began -to roar. It seemed quite near, although one -could not say exactly where the thundering -came from. One felt hunted down, without -knowing the location of the enemy who pursued -so relentlessly. So the ranks were formed. -Those who still had knapsacks lifted them again -to the shoulder, and again we marched.</p> - -<p>The first steps were difficult. Every joint -was stiff, every muscle ached, and we swore -with every stride. Soon we warmed up to -the exercise and advanced more easily. The -pace was set for five kilometres an hour, and -every one followed.</p> - -<p>Yo had found some wine, no one knows -where. He poured a drop in the cup of each -of his neighbors, and it seemed quite refreshing. -We managed to keep going the entire -morning. After a repose of two hours we -started again, always toward the south, always -pursued by the cannon, which seemed -to move even faster than did we. We neared -Vervins. The outlying parishes indicated it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -at each kilometre, and we were only surprised -that the enemy had preceded us. It was nevertheless -true. He went like the wind, regardless -of broken bridges, obstructed roads, opened -ravines. However fast we went, he went too -fast even for us to follow. He was ahead of -us and behind us. He was reported on both -sides of us. He seemed to be everywhere.</p> - -<p>This is the way of the retreat. However -rapid it seems, it is exceeded in speed by the -enemy. Every difficulty retards the troops -in flight; obstructed roads, slow-moving army -wagons, necessary destruction. The enemy -pushes on. He sends forward his cavalry quite -indifferent to the condition of the land. He -takes strategic points, he occupies mountains, -he bars passes. We must make a détour to -cross a river over which he leaps. We must -save munitions which weigh heavily and impede -our course. We must watch for a safety -which he disdains. He comes and breaks the -embryonic resistance which he encounters, -overthrows battalions already in rout, sweeps -away regiments already disorganized. You -believe he is behind, he is really in front. You -go to the right, he is there. You return to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> -the left, he has forestalled you. Those hours -of torture, when difficulties accumulate to -impede flight, when the mother’s weakness -detains the son, when the weight of a child -is a crushing burden! Those hours of agony, -when all about is burning, when terror is spread -abroad, when only menace is seen on every -hand! Those who have lived through such -hours will never be able to efface them from -the memory.</p> - -<p>We arrived at Vervins, already attacked -by the enemy, but defended by a screen of -troops with some cannon. From the distracted -town, where the detonations rocked the houses -and made the window-panes rattle, one could -watch the battle. Some aeroplanes were flying -about overhead like great birds of war. They -were the first military aircraft, still incomplete -and badly armed. From them the observer -could see but little, and he was obliged -to descend to earth to bring his information. -Such as these machines were, they interested -us much, and seemed to fulfil in the air a remarkable -mission.</p> - -<p>Beyond this observation, the sight did not -prevent some of us from seeking provision.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -It was already very difficult to find food in -that town, where an army had passed. Practically -nothing was left. The shops had wound -up their business and their owners were preparing -for flight. Everywhere were piled up -furniture, scattered straw, torn paper. Nothing -kept its usual course. One paid no matter what -sum for two spoiled eggs. Berthet achieved -a veritable triumph in discovering a pound of -almond chocolate.</p> - -<p>However, the soup was cooked on the -kitchen-stoves in the houses. The quartermasters -distributed meat and bread, at least -as much as they could procure from the commissariat -wagons which had stopped at the -edge of the town. Some wounded men, returning -from the fighting-lines, mingled with -the men carrying wood and water. Some artillery -wagons went through the streets at -full speed, vainly searching some munitions -gone astray.</p> - -<p>In this general turmoil there came to hand -an unfamiliar newspaper: it was the <i>Bulletin -of the Army of the Republic</i>, which the minister -of war had just established, and which was -distributed to the troops. Every one, eager<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -for news, obtained a copy and turned its pages -rapidly, in the hope of gaining some definite -knowledge of events. We read some reports -of victorious progress in Alsace. The reading -gave us some comfort and strengthened our -courage. All was not lost, then, since the -enemy was retreating over there! We exchanged -words of confidence, we reassured -each other: Germany would be beaten, that -was certain. The Cossacks were invading -Prussia, and our retreat signified nothing: -we were at a disadvantageous point of the -field of action, that was all! The enemy, hard -pressed elsewhere, was going to retreat in his -turn, and would be pursued to Berlin.</p> - -<p>Laughter became contagious, and some -joyous souls could not refrain from boasting. -Our fatigue fell from us; we were again serene.</p> - -<p>None the less, it was necessary to continue -the movement already initiated, retreat still -further, resume the march as soon as night -had fallen, gain in all haste a point at the rear -which had been indicated to our chief officers. -We again took the highroad. It was still -crowded, but only by the troops. The fugitive -civilians were obliged to yield it to the army<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -wagons and infantry, and themselves march -across fields. They could be seen in long files, -like migratory tribes, stopped by natural obstacles, -entangled by hedges and hindered by -watercourses. We passed without giving them -aid; there was no time to stop. We were directed -toward Laon, which we must reach -at all cost, in order to organize the resistance -before the arrival of the enemy.</p> - -<p>Laon was far away, and the road was long, -and the sack was heavy, and the march was -at a bruising pace. We braced ourselves for endurance. -Our faces, with several days’ growth -of beard, were streaked with sweat and dirt, -were drawn and haggard from fatigue. We -marched all night without arriving at our goal, -then all day. It was evening when we reached -the citadel perched on its rock, dominating -a vast stretch of plain. We were installed -in an entirely new barrack, and went to sleep -without eating. We were not hungry, which -was well, as there were no provisions. I threw -myself on a bed and fell asleep like a clod. It -would be light to-morrow, one could see clearly -to-morrow; one could wash to-morrow, one -could eat to-morrow.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>That was the way of it. All night the exhausted -troop slept without sentinels, stomach -empty, mouth open, in whatever position they -happened to fall, utterly incapable of any defense. -If the enemy had come, he could have -swept away at a single stroke and without -a struggle ten thousand men. There was not -one of us who could have fired a shot.</p> - -<p>This haste was important. It gave time to -catch our breath. The army having escaped -the German pursuit, saved its quota and could -reorganize.</p> - -<p>“Look at that steep bluff!” said Berthet -to me the following morning. “It seems impregnable, -does it not? Nevertheless, in 1809 -Napoleon’s Marie Louise Battalion took Laon -by storm, from this side, and made a bayonet -charge up those steep slopes, and dislodged -the enemy.”</p> - -<p>As for us, we must first descend the declivity. -The enemy was approaching. His scouts and -advance-guards flashed through the plain in -every direction. He gushed from the woods, -he streamed along the roads, he inundated -the fields. He came from everywhere, as if -the entire earth had vomited Germans. They<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -were innumerable as a cloud of locusts. It -was more like a plague than an army. It was -a barbarian horde pouring itself over our country -and forcing us to retreat again; always -retreat, always faster, without looking back -and without offering resistance.</p> - -<p>We set out once more, madness in our eyes. -Would it never end, this flight? What was -happening? What were our armies doing? -Were we going to fall back as far as Paris? or -perhaps still farther, as far as the Loire? We -no longer knew what to think. We no longer -possessed speech or ideas. The chiefs knew -no more than the men. They no longer attempted -to explain. Our lieutenant carried -the knapsack of a man gone lame, and marched -chewing a cigar. Our commandant went up -and down the length of the column with a -sombre air, and no one dreamed of singing.</p> - -<p>These were the first days of September. -The air was still hot and stifling. Some men, -made giddy by the sun, fell in crumpled masses. -Sweat ran off our bodies, rusted the arms in -our hands. A suffocating dust filled the air -and covered faces and clothing with an ever-thickening -layer. Throats were parched, eyes -haggard, shoulders bleeding.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>Berthet fell. I helped him up, he fell again. -He could go no farther, and I feared that I -would see him die there of exhaustion. I rubbed -him, made him drink a little mint. Then I -put him in the shade and went foraging. I -discovered some water and a fresh egg, which -I made him take. He swallowed it, only half -conscious. Then I saw a resurrection. He -sat up, light returned to his eye and color to -his cheek.</p> - -<p>Thus he was saved; but how many remained -on the route, easy prey for brutal German -soldiers, and how many died, their names unknown! -The plains of Thierache and of the -Aisne alone know how many fell by the way, -victims of exhaustion, during the great retreat, -when the foul enemy already scented Paris -and believed it within his grasp; superhuman -retreat, which spread for the foe the snare of -the Marne, that miracle which the passing -centuries will hold in remembrance.</p> - -<p>Such was the retreat, from my view-point -as a humble soldier of the ranks, from my position -as an atom lost in the immense movement. -Others will recount its strategic value; -others will explain its grandeur. I have seen -only what I have here related, I, a little cog<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -in the huge tragedy, and I am proud to have -lived those hours. Other great hours were to -follow, but those passed through were not the -least wonderful.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">IV<br /> - - -<small>WAITING</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">WE took with us on our retreat some -prisoners captured at Guise, during -our frenzied flight; some dozen -men, whom the gendarmes conducted, handcuffs -on wrists. They excited much curiosity.</p> - -<p>These soldiers did not give a very proud -idea of the battle, nor of the enemy army. -They were poor devils, dressed in gray, whose -boots of tan leather alone drew attention. -These looked very well, but were too narrow -for the feet, and several men limped in a ridiculous -manner.</p> - -<p>Chained with them marched some civilians, -marauders or spies, also being conducted to -the rear. One of them attempted escape one -night. Immediately retaken, one hour later -he stood before a court martial, whose sombre -appearance is graven on my memory.</p> - -<p>It was a simple village house, with green -shutters. A sentry stood at the door. Through -the open windows one could see the tribunal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -in session, and the accused defending himself. -The trial was brief and tragic. Five officers -were seated in a commonplace dining-room, -with an extension-table for a desk, at the end -of which two clerks were writing. At the end -of the room, in front of the buffet, some -gendarmes guarded the accused. The contrast -between the austere scene and its setting -was striking. There a man was being judged, -there his life or death was the subject for decision; -and the cannon were roaring, quite -near, and the retreating army was filling the -village street.</p> - -<p>I saw the man plead his cause, standing, -gesticulating. The judges listened attentively -and gravely. Not a muscle of their countenances -moved; they seemed made of wax. -Their caps made splashes of scarlet and gold -on the table. On the wall behind the presiding -officer hung a naïve picture of a country -fête. The hanging lamp appeared to have -been in the way: it was unhooked and put -in a corner. I could plainly hear the voices, -though I could not distinguish the words. The -accused implored. He clasped his hands and -fell on his knees. Then he uttered a cry....<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -The gendarmes dragged him away. His place -was taken by another prisoner.</p> - -<p>The next day, when we were leaving, he -was missing. He had been shot at sunrise.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We finished the retreat by railway, finding -a train which had come as far as a broken bridge -and was turning back on its route. We were -shut up in the carriages three entire days. -Though it seemed an interminable journey, -nevertheless it ended with our return to our -starting-point.</p> - -<p>This return, of a fantastic duration (our -whole trip could be made in eight hours in -time of peace) occupied the first days of the -battle of the Marne. Yes, while the destiny -of the world hung in the balance, while the -most formidable struggle the earth had ever -seen was in progress, we were packed into boxes -on wheels, we were shunted about and loitered -on the rails like so much useless merchandise. -Our train moved, stopped, went into a station, -departed, stopped again. We remained for -hours on grassy tracks where no train had -passed for months. We borrowed unfamiliar -routes, we lost our way on unknown switches.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -Sometimes we stopped in a tunnel, or in the -midst of a deserted countryside. Sometimes -we halted at a town where the inhabitants -crowded about us, bringing provisions of all -sorts: bread, wine, meat, and fruit, and fêted -us in a thousand ways. The people questioned -us eagerly. The greater number had a son or -brother in the army, and naïvely asked news -of them. We had no information whatever, -but exchanged assurances of an early victory. -In spite of what we had seen, our confidence -remained unbroken, and we gave much comfort -to those who saw only disaster ahead. -We maintained that the French advance continued -constantly in Alsace, that the Germans -were retreating everywhere, that the Russians -were galloping on Berlin by forced marches. -We were certain that Germany was rushing -to suicide, and our certainty was eagerly demanded -in exchange for the presents received. -The sympathy of all these people was touching. -It seemed as though we were all one family -with these, our own French people, who were -giving us so hearty a welcome. We felt so -grateful for their reception that we would have -liked to embrace them all.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>Then the train started. We exchanged -hearty adieus as we went away—only to stop -a little farther on for another lapse of time. -After three full days of this we reached our -destination. We had traversed half of France, -and were now going to recuperate for new -hardships.</p> - -<p>Our camp was located in a little village -buried in verdure, in the midst of a calm countryside, -as far from the war as possible. Very -little news reached this out-of-the-way spot; -newspapers were old when they arrived. The -populace lived as usual, groaning a bit to keep -in countenance, but not suffering any real -inconvenience.</p> - -<p>We were soon bored to death. In spite of -the daily exercises, in spite of the drills, in -spite of the preparations and small side comedy -of war, we longed for the tempest, for the great -whirlwind which was sweeping away our -brothers over yonder, toward the east. Only -its echoes reached us. There was the Marne; -there was the German retreat; there was the -digging of trenches, the line stretched to the -sea; there was the Yser.</p> - -<p>Yet here we stayed. Time passed heavily.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -We felt much aggrieved: it seemed that the -war was bound to be too short to offer us a -sufficient revenge. We gave up hope of returning -to the front, so long did the days seem -while our comrades were doing the fighting.</p> - -<p>Berthet and I never ceased to fret. Inertia -crushed us. We would have accepted no matter -what offer of an errand in order to go away, -to have action, to quit the tranquil country -where we were vegetating, to find again adventure, -to run risks: in short, to live. It -seemed to us that we spent months there, stagnating. -In reality it was six weeks.</p> - -<p>In that apparent inaction the regiment was -putting itself in condition. One day twelve -hundred men were selected for reinforcements -to join a neighboring division of the army. -There were touching farewells. Those who -were leaving, feverish with joy, shook hands -proudly with those who remained behind, -and who were envious to the last man. None -of these, however, was destined to return unharmed. -All were mowed down on the plains -of Champagne in their first engagement, and -their places were filled by new comrades from -other camps.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>That also is an aspect of war. One does -not keep constantly the same comrades, nor -even the same officers. The army is a living -organism which undergoes constant wear and -rebuilding. At first, one gladly believes that -he will always have the same neighbors, that -he will be with the same sergeant, that he will -be surrounded by the same faces until the end. -Then one comrade is transferred to another -regiment, another merely disappears. Another -is called to a distance: he goes and never returns. -Soon one finds himself the only man -remaining of the original group. The company -has not fought, it has not suffered murderous -losses, and still its personnel has been renewed.</p> - -<p>Yo is gone. Amelus is gone. Happily, -Berthet remains for me, and I for him. We -will not leave each other. We believe it since -we desire it, and we are almost sure that we -will be able to mould the future to our wish; -such is the immense vanity of man.</p> - -<p>Thus we spent our days, soldiers without -being soldiers, soldiers of time of peace, tied -down to puerile exercises, to imaginary assaults, -to supposititious battles. We champed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -our bits. We longed for the struggle, we awaited -our turn with growing impatience.</p> - -<p>It came at last. One evening the order to -go forward arrived. The regiment was ready, -solid, high-spirited, complete. It set out: all -felt a secret thrill. At last we were going to -the Front, we were going to know, to fight, -and to die!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">V<br /> - - -<small>LA PIOCHE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IT is night. It is raining. The train stops -at a station. We have arrived. But -where? No one knows. All is black. -All is sombre. All is sinister. All is threatening. -We alight from the carriages to stretch -our legs.</p> - -<p>“Silence!” growl the officers. “In two -ranks, quick!” Along the platform we fall -in line as well as possible in the dark, our knapsacks -on our backs, and, over all, the rain.</p> - -<p>“Forward.”</p> - -<p>We reach a road; a road that feels hard -under the feet. A damp chill arises from the -invisible earth and the rain glues our clothing -to our skins. Our shoes are heavy with mud. -We march. Each follows the comrade who -stumbles along ahead, and whom one can hardly -see. One hears only the rustling of the trees, -the confused sound of steps, a brief exclamation, -an oath. We go straight ahead where -we are led; through the dark toward the unknown.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>“Silence!” hiss the chiefs, “we are close to -the enemy. Not a word; not a cigarette.”</p> - -<p>A sort of apprehension grips us. The fear -of the unknown binds us. It is not the certainty -of danger: it is worse. It is an inexpressible -anguish. One is in danger from invisible -blows that will fall unawares. We -mount a hill. At the summit one has a view, -a darkly shut-in view, whose walls of black -are pierced by flashes of fire; mere sparks in -the distance. Artillery! This which we look -down upon is the Front. There, below us, -at a considerable distance still, they are fighting. -With throbbing hearts, eager to advance, -to arrive at the place destined for us, we -peer into the cannon-starred curtain of the -night.</p> - -<p>But the march continues to be slow. One -slips on the muddy ground, one skids, one -swears. As we go down the hill the stirring -sight is blotted out like dying fireworks, and -we are once more in a shut-in road, whose embankments -add to the blackness and cut off -all outlook.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, the confused sounds of the -battle carry up the slope to our marching troop.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -Somewhere, down there, a lively artillery duel -crashes in fury and the brilliant flashes of light -dart their resplendent triangles into the heavens. -Is it there we are going? No one knows. One -feels his heart thrilled and a little shaken by -the nearness. Instinctively one touches elbows -with his neighbor, tightens his grip on his rifle; -becomes silent.</p> - -<p>All the time we advance. Occasionally there -are stops; sudden, unlooked-for stops. Then -one starts on. Soon we reach some houses. -We are entering the street of a village and the -shaded lanterns cast weird shadows on the -walls. The column crowds together. We -catch our breath.</p> - -<p>“We camp here,” say the sergeants.</p> - -<p>The orders are sent along the line. There -is a moment of rest; then the squads break -up. Every one seeks his place of shelter. We -are quartered in the buildings of a large farm. -I and my companions are billeted in a barn -and we stamp our feet on the unthreshed wheat -which has been stored there. Each begins -hollowing out a place to sleep.</p> - -<p>“Make no lights,” order the sergeants, “you -will be spotted.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>“Eh, boys!” calls a voice, “where do you -come from?”</p> - -<p>And from between the bundles of straw we -see the up-lifted heads of several soldiers. Approaching -them, we find that they have been -comfortably sleeping in their straw nests, and -that our arrival has awakened them. We question -them:</p> - -<p>“What is this place, here?”</p> - -<p>“It is Taissy.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!”</p> - -<p>“Is it far from the trenches?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, mon garçon; only about fifteen -hundred metres.”</p> - -<p>Then they tell their story. They are cripples, -mostly lame, who are waiting for vehicles to -take them back to the dressing-stations. They -have been in the trenches for a month; they -have fought; they give details of their battles. -We do not see them. We hear only detached -phrases which come to us confusedly out of the -night.</p> - -<p>“A dirty hole. We lost a heap of men.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a fort up there which we recaptured.”</p> - -<p>“There were three counter-attacks.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>“Then, a dirty canal full of rotten meat. -What a stink!”</p> - -<p>Suddenly some furious detonations rend -the air. Every one is silent. We listen.</p> - -<p>“That’s nothing,” say the old-timers, “it’s -only our battery firing. But if the Boches -answer you will see something!”</p> - -<p>“Do they often reply?”</p> - -<p>“Hell, yes! Every day. Half of the village -is already pounded to pieces.”</p> - -<p>“Ouf!”</p> - -<p>It is true. A comrade who has been prowling -around outside comes back:</p> - -<p>“The next farmhouse is demolished. The -roof is gone and the walls are like a sieve.”</p> - -<p>“Silence!” growl the sergeants. “Go to -sleep. You must fall in at five o’clock to-morrow -morning.”</p> - -<p>The conversations cease. Each one picks -out a place, buries himself in the straw, and -sinks into sleep as a ship is engulfed by the -waves.</p> - -<p>It is our first night under fire. Perhaps some -of us do not find untroubled slumber, but there is -no alarm and to stay awake is useless. Besides, -there is nothing to do but sleep. So we sleep.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>At dawn we are afoot. We can see that the -war is not far distant. The near-by houses are -disembowelled, and such walls as still stand are -pierced by great round holes where the shells -passed. Certain roofs seem like lace, their -rafters blackened by fire and rain. We are -curious, and run about that we may not miss -seeing any of the damage done by the bombardment.</p> - -<p>“Back to your quarters!” cry the non-coms. -“To go out is forbidden.”</p> - -<p>We hardly heard them, and they had to -use force to hold back the men and prevent -their scattering in the village streets. The -officers came to the rescue. Then we obeyed. -Soon came the order to fall in, the roll was -called, and as soon as the knapsacks were -buckled to the shoulders we started on. We -were going to the trenches.</p> - -<p>The cannonade incessantly grew louder. -We followed a road bordered with trees and -masked by underbrush; a road leading toward -the noise. Every eye sought for signs of this -unknown thing into which we were marching. -They were not lacking. Everywhere broken -branches hung from the trees, and frequently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -we passed ruined houses whose peasant owners -dumbly watched our marching troop. On we -marched. We crossed a bridge and entered -another village, a hamlet entirely deserted, -mutilated, horrible to look at, like a wounded -man lying on the ground. Its houses, after -their years of tranquillity, had suffered a terrible -assault. They were riddled with shells; -their walls were like a moth-eaten garment. -We could see the interiors still fully furnished; -curtains still hanging at windows where all -the glass had been shattered; half-open buffets, -occasionally with their mirrors intact. Only -a glimpse did we catch as we passed. Then -we left the ruins and, for a time, followed a -canal. This we crossed by a frail foot-bridge -and found ourselves in a narrow ditch—a communication-trench—the -first we had seen. We -descended into the earth, following this narrow -chink which reached to our shoulders and, at -times, entirely concealed us. This boyau wound -its way about, turning and zigzagging apparently -without reason. We traversed it in single -file, seeing nothing but the back of the man in -front and the two walls of smooth clay cut perpendicularly -to the bottom.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>It was a sight unfamiliar to all: an extraordinary -journey, a thing of mystery, the entering -of an infernal region where feelings of -humanity were left behind.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a rapid whistling passed over our -heads, which were lowered in one simultaneous -movement. Another followed, then another -and, a little behind us, three explosions resounded -with a noise like the tearing of silk -amid a jangling of metals. We had received -our baptism of fire.</p> - -<p>We advanced more quickly in an eagerness -to reach our underground home. We bumped -the walls, sometimes so close together that -our knapsacks stuck fast, so that we had to -tear them loose with a considerable effort. -All the time we shuddered at the nasty whistle -of the shells, which passed to fall and crash -behind. One felt that he must escape; must -get out of this place where, if he remained, he -was sure to be mashed like a strawberry in a -marmalade. The march quickened so that -we almost ran, staggering against the trench -walls at every sudden turn of its meandering -course and always, above us, that terrible -screaming and those crashing explosions.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>Lord! But our cheeks were pale and our -looks anxious. Later we stood it better as -we became accustomed to it. This, however, -was our first moment under fire, our first meeting -with the foe, and we felt crushed by the -narrow confines of this fissure in which we -could only follow the column—a column without -end, which straggled over too great a length -in spite of the efforts of the officers to hurry -the men and to close up the distances.</p> - -<p>Suddenly we emerged into open ground. A -railroad-embankment with its rails in place, -its telegraph-poles still standing and occasionally -a flagman’s house still in good condition, -hid us from the enemy. At one bound -we glued ourselves to this embankment, flattening -our bodies on the ground; for the German -shells continued to lash the air, while -out on the plain gray puffs marked their explosions.</p> - -<p>Some comrades, whose easy gait showed -their familiarity with the place, were already -advancing toward us. They motioned to us -and pointed out the dugouts.</p> - -<p>“This way. Don’t stay there.”</p> - -<p>We followed their directions on the run and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -entered by groups into the shelters they had -indicated. Here, packed together so closely -that we could not budge, we waited for the -storm to pass. In the abri were some wounded -on their way to the dressing-station, and we -felt the deepest emotion at seeing the stretchers -with their mangled and groaning burdens.</p> - -<p>At last the firing stopped. We waited for -orders. The sergeants were called together -for instruction. Soon they came back and -then our work began. We first laid aside our -knapsacks and grouped ourselves by squads. -Then we picked out tools from a long pile of -shovels and pickaxes, and followed the non-coms -along the embankment, a little nervous, -it is true, but curious about the work we were -to do.</p> - -<p>“Two picks, one shovel,” came the order. -“Two picks, one shovel,” repeated the sergeants -as they placed us at our distances.</p> - -<p>“Voilà! You are going to dig here. Loosen -the ground with the picks and clear it away -with the shovels. Do you understand?”</p> - -<p>Then we went at the work. It was the beginning -of our first trench. Gradually we -heated up; we hacked at the soil; we shovelled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -it away; we spat on our hands; we struck -again; we wiped away the perspiration. Occasionally -some shells seemed to leap over -the embankment and passed, screeching, on -their way. We dodged at the sound and then -laughed at our involuntary movement. Then -we straightened up to catch our breath, and -in the moment inspected our workyard and -glimpsed the neighborhood. The embankment -of the <i>chemin de fer</i> entirely protected -us from the enemy. At a little distance two -rows of trees marked the way of the canal we -had crossed. Between the parallel lines of -the canal and the railroad was a field of beets, -humped in places with bodies of men that -one had not had time to bury; while here and -there crosses marked the fallen of the earlier -days of the struggle.</p> - -<p>We saw all this at a glance, and quickly -bent ourselves back to the earth and our toil. -Our rifles hampered us in our work, and we laid -them on the freshly heaped-up earth, taking -care to protect them from sand. We did not -know why they were making us do this digging, -or what good purpose was to be served -by our labor; but we worked on unremittingly,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -proud to accomplish the necessary task, proud -to be at work and to feel so calm in the midst -of war.</p> - -<p>“You are lucky,” said one of the veterans -standing near by. “The sector is calm to-day. -You would not have been able to do that yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Lively, was it?”</p> - -<p>“You’ve said something. But tell me, have -you come to relieve us? It’s not a bit too -soon.”</p> - -<p>“We don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“It’s likely that is what we’re here for,” -added some one.</p> - -<p>In reality, no; we did not know. They had -sent us there and there we stayed. After all, -no one seemed able to give us an explanation, -and we didn’t try to explain things ourselves. -They told us to hurry and we hurried. That -was all. In the meantime our tracks were -burying themselves. The ditch was already -knee-deep, and by so much it diminished the -stature of each of the diggers. No one stopped -us, so we kept on, digging furiously, as if the -final victory depended on our effort of this -moment.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>When evening came and twilight enveloped -us in her soft, purple mantle, the violent note -of the cannon barked only intermittently, and -the gusts of bullets, wailing in the air, sounded -like swarms of musical insects swiftly regaining -their homes. We believed the hour of repose -was near. But we were mistaken: another -task awaited us. It was necessary to take -advantage of the night to cross the embankment, -gain the first line and take our position.</p> - -<p>In these first weeks of intrenched warfare, -movements of this sort were relatively easy. -We were hidden in the darkness: we had only -to leap the embankment and move to our places. -The enemy replied only when he heard a noise, -and fired quite at random. His commonest -field-piece was the light seventy-seven, which -barked loudly but did little damage, and the -workmen of the two camps matched their skill -at only a hundred metres’ distance, without -hurting each other very much.</p> - -<p>This evening they placed us behind some -trees at a roadside.</p> - -<p>“Fire only on order,” said the officers. “One -of our companies is out in front fixing the wire. -If you fire, you risk wounding your comrades.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>They repeated their instructions to the sergeants -and thus began our first night at the -front. Each one watched as well as he could, -straining his eyes in the effort to pierce the -blackness, hearing the blows of the mallets -on the stakes and thrilling at the fusillade.</p> - -<p>A night is long. A night in November is -cold. It freezes. We shivered out there in -the dark, but we did not dare to budge. The -noise of shooting was almost constant, and -bullets were striking everywhere about us, -ringing on the stones, clipping twigs from the -trees or sinking dully into the soil. Our teeth -chattered; we shivered; we tried to warm -our hands by rubbing them. Some rash ones -stamped their feet to restore the circulation, -and from time to time we heard a muffled conversation. -We didn’t know where we were -nor the distance which separated us from the -enemy. We feared a possible ambush, a surprise -attack maybe, and we pinched ourselves -to keep awake. The hours seemed deadly -long.</p> - -<p>At last we saw the dirty gray of dawn overspread -the sky and slowly dissipate the thick -mist that rose from the earth. Clumps of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -trees and underwood, little by little, took form. -No sooner were they fully visible than a terrible -fusillade broke out, lashing the air like -a thousand hisses; a crackling shower of bullets -that rolled and rattled like hail. They cut -the branches just above us and made the pebbles -fly. We crouched to the ground; buckling -our sacks, gripping our guns, hunching our -shoulders and tensing our legs to be ready for -the expected attack.</p> - -<p>“Get ready to go back,” whispered the sergeants -and the order was repeated along the -line. We crept, we crawled like slugs, profiting -by the smallest tuft of grass, the shallowest -recess in the ground that might serve as a -shield, but with little hope of escape.</p> - -<p>Some furious discharges of seventy-fives -cracked with such rapidity and precision that -they comforted us. We felt sustained and -protected and steadied ourselves. We were -annoyingly hampered by our heavy equipment, -our inconvenient cartridge-boxes and -all our cumbersome accoutrement. Suddenly -a man was wounded. He cried out, and, losing -all prudence, arose, ran, crossed the embankment -and fled to the shelter. Instinctively<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -we followed his example. On the way another -man was wounded and fell. Two of his companions -seized him and, dragging him between -them, struggled to safety, in the shelter of the -railroad-bank. It was finished. We reassembled. -We were muddy, bruised, and wounded; -eyes red from loss of sleep, and mouths drawn, -but, just the same, we were content. Thenceforth -we were soldiers. We had faced danger. -True, we had not fought, but we were ready.</p> - -<p>Our rôle had just commenced. We had -occupied this sector to fit it up as this novel -thing, this underground war, demanded. This -task achieved, we were to be its defenders. -It was necessary to dig trenches that we might -no longer watch from the scanty shelter of -trees; to improve on these primitive holes -that had been dug, to serve temporarily, at -the beginning of the battle. Therefore we dug -trenches. It was necessary to connect them -with communication-channels. Therefore we -dug boyaux. We had to install redans, build -firing benches or banquettes<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> and construct<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -dugouts. All these things we did. We dug -in the earth day and night. We gathered up -cubic metres of soil and threw them out in -front to heighten our parapet. We used our -shovels and picks; we sweat; we suffered; we -froze.</p> - -<p>The winter rolled on. December brought -intense cold. Ice and snow covered the land, -and while we watched the foe, our rifles froze -in the loopholes. We ate when we were lucky. -The kitchens were far in the rear, and when -the soup and coffee arrived they were ice-cold. -The service men started early with their mess-pails, -but they stumbled in the trenches and -often spilled more of the soup and wine than -they brought. We ate badly; we slept little: -we always dug. We never rested. There were -heavy materials to be carried; the stakes for -the entanglements, the spools of wire, the sheet -iron, the posts, and the timbers. There was -nightly patrol duty, the hours on guard, the -attack to repulse, endless holes to be bored -in the earth. In the daytime one slept where -he could, curling up in the mud at the bottom -of the trench or seeking to avoid the rain by -crawling into some fissure. At night we stole<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -out into No Man’s Land and stalked the foe -or dug a listening-post. We watched the illuminating -rockets. We plunged to shelter -when they threatened to expose us to fire.</p> - -<p>We lived there some strenuous hours, some -terrible weeks. Some suffered from trench -foot, some froze to death, some were killed. -These are terrible things: these nights on guard, -these nights hugging the ground when on patrol, -these nights in the listening-post when the -body chills, becomes numb, and loses all sensation. -One goes on detail and loses one’s way. -One falls, dumb with fatigue, and an alarm -sounds. One starts to sleep and an attack -rages.</p> - -<p>War is a thing of horror. It is more. The -very soil is hollowed out like dens of beasts; -and into these creep human beings. The rain -saturates the trench and rots legs and wood -alike. The corpse hangs on the wire and serves -as a target. War is cold, war is black, war is -night. It is, in truth, such a horror that those -who have lived these hours may say: “I was -there. But to tell about it is to live it over -again. And that is too much.”</p> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_133.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">Emmanuel Bourcier at the front in the sector of Rheims in 1915.</p> - -<p>As for us, we suffered. At first we had no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -dugouts and slept beneath the open sky. We -had no trenches and stalked our foe while waist-deep -in mud. In December’s cold we had no -fire. This which we saw, which we defended, -which the foe destroyed, was France. Our -land was invaded, profaned by the German, -and we could not retake it. These conquered -forests, these occupied cities, these subjugated -plains, these mountains polluted, were our -native soil and we could not regain them. The -sacred homeland was under the boot of the -German. Was this the death-rattle in the -throat of the republic?</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VI<br /> - - -<small>THE GAS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE severe winter ran its course. We -had worked incessantly. We had a -whole sector to ourselves. First, there -was the tangled network of barbed-wire, a -piece of work in which we all had a share. Each -evening, as night fell, a company of men went -out on No Man’s Land to work in the thick, -treacherous darkness. One gang dug holes -and put in the posts, another stretched the -parallel wires, another attached the transverse -wires. As this required great blows of a mallet, -it made considerable noise, which drew down the -enemy’s gun-fire. As they gained experience, -the men went out rapidly, worked swiftly, and -returned to our trenches only when their task -was accomplished. At dawn, the Boches tried -to destroy our work of the night before, by -firing many volleys into the network. The -damage was never considerable, and they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -stopped that game when, imitating them, we -cut their barbed-wire to pieces.</p> - -<p>Under that efficacious protection we contrived -openings for listening and firing trenches. -At the first, two men alternated in a constant -lookout, with ear quick to catch any sound, -with eyes strained to observe the most minute -sign. Behind them, on the benches,<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> entire -sections, with guns poised in the loopholes, -waited and watched from twilight to dawn, -while the others slept, down in the shelters -underground.</p> - -<p>This organization constituted the first lines -in the spring of 1915, when we hoped for an -early victory. So temporary did the work -appear to be, we spent no more time and effort -on our trench systems than seemed necessary -for immediate purposes. The dugouts were -of the most limited dimensions, really kennels, -large enough for two men to sleep fairly comfortably, -but which usually housed six, no -one knows how. One came there overcome -by sleep. One threw himself on the ground<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -without removing his accoutrement, and was -asleep almost before touching the earth. To -afford some protection against the bitter wind, -a cloth was stretched in front of the opening. -While this shut out the unwelcome breezes, -it also shut in a concentrated, hot and malodorous -steam, composed of the mouldy moisture -from the earth itself, of human perspiration -and panting exhalations, of wet leather and -clothing. However, one breathed somehow. -When the time was up, and one went out to -resume work or watching, the icy air enveloped -one like a sepuchral winding-sheet, and the -night blinded one’s eyes. One followed the -communication-trench, took up gun or shovel, -as the order might happen to be, and became -either soldier or laborer; or, more often, both -at once. Everything was done at night. Everything -was dismal, dangerous, frightful. There -was no real repose, no relaxation. The incessant -shell-fire added its horror to our other -discomforts and dangers. The shell! that insensate -creature of chance, which bursts over -the innocent, scatters its fragments over the -plain, and in stupid indifference crushes a clod -of earth or snuffs out the lives of a hundred<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -human beings. The shell! that monster which -comes with a moaning wail, invisible as a beast -of darkness, and dies in a shower of fire.</p> - -<p>One easily becomes familiar with its sound. -At first, every shot was terrifying. Then we -learned to know approximately what course -a shell would follow, at what point it would -fall. Then we ceased to listen to or fear any -but those coming our way. No others counted. -They were non-existent.</p> - -<p>Before we reached this point of familiarity, -the salvos of that plaything, the seventy-five, -made us shudder. They came so fast that -we scarcely had time to distinguish the individual -shots. Immediately the deadly whistling -object skimmed the ground, and the explosion -resounded. Some men turned pale, -others paid little attention.</p> - -<p>Berthet and I found much in this life to -interest us. We ran about to see whatever -could be seen. As soon as a cannonade began, -we went in that direction for the pleasure of -observing it. We volunteered for all sorts of -difficult tasks, tempted by the risk, enticed -by the eternal charm of adventure. He was -brave, was Berthet, but knew not how brave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -he was. Sometimes I sought to restrain him, -at which he was always astonished. “I wish -to know,” he said, “if I will be afraid.” And -he had his way. He went out on the embankment, -where he inspected the horizon regardless -of the projectiles which saluted his silhouette -as soon as he appeared.</p> - -<p>We had some magnificent spectacles. One -evening there was a bombardment followed -by infantry attack. The German uneasiness -had been evident in the morning. It expressed -itself by a storm of projectiles which fell aimlessly -and did little damage. The shells cut -the grass, exploded like a sheaf of fireworks, -sent the dirt flying high into the air. It worried -us at first, then, as we found ourselves safe in -the shelter of our deep trenches, assurance -returned. Each man went about his business. -Some were detailed to dig a tunnel, one must -go to the kitchens to fetch soup and bread, -another cleaned the arms, rusted during the -night by the fog, or in the morning by the dew. -All the same, this violent bombardment troubled -our officers not a little; they feared a surprise. -We had a visit from our general toward evening. -He gave some orders, took a look at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -the loopholes of observation, and went away -apparently content. His calm was most reassuring.</p> - -<p>Calm is not everything in war. The plans -of the enemy must also be taken into account. -The Boche artillery became violent. Over -our trenches streamed a fire of shells of all -calibers mingled. They fell tearing away whole -banks of earth at once; they exploded thunderously, -in a cloud of dust and stinking smoke. -We looked for the worst; we suspected a close -attack, a hand-to-hand clash. Suddenly a great -cry rang out:</p> - -<p>“The gas!”</p> - -<p>It was true. Over there, from the enemy’s -lines, came great greenish balls, rolling close -to the earth, rolling deliberately yet swiftly, -rolling straight toward us. Gas! That horrible -thing, still almost unknown, which had -been used for the first time only recently on -the Yser. It was coming with deadly surety -amidst a tornado of artillery. Orders were -shouted back and forth:</p> - -<p>“The gas! Put on the masks!”</p> - -<p>Each man spread over his face the protecting -cloth. The shelters were closed. The telephone,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> -whose wires ran the length of the communication-trenches, -gave the warning: “Look -out! The gas!”</p> - -<p>We did not yet know what manner of horror -it was. None of us had experienced an attack -of the sort. We ran to and fro like ants whose -hill has been molested. Some fired their guns -at random, others awaited orders. The frightful, -livid thing came on, expanded to a cloud, -crept upon us, glided into the trenches. The -air was quickly obscured. We were swimming -in an atmosphere stained a venomous color, -uncanny, indescribable. The sky appeared -greenish, the earth disappeared. The men -staggered about for a moment, took a gasping -breath, and rolled on the ground, stifled. There -were some knots of soldiers who had been asleep -in their beds when overtaken by the gas. They -writhed in convulsions, with vitals burning, -with froth on the lips, calling for their mothers -or cursing the German. We gathered them -up as best we could; we took them to the doctors, -who, thus confronted by an unknown -condition, found themselves powerless. They -tried the application of oxygen and ether in -an effort to save the lives of the victims, only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -to see them die, already decomposed, in their -hands.</p> - -<p>The masks had not yet been perfected and -were a poor protection. Some ran about like -madmen, shrieking in terror, the throat choked -with saliva, and fell in heaps, in contortions of -agony. Some filled the mouth with handfuls -of grass and struggled against asphyxiation. -Others, down in the shelters, sprinkled face -and neck with brackish water, and awaited -a death all too long in coming.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> Over all this -the artillery shrieked in unchained madness. -The sky was of steel, quivering and molten. -There were no longer any distinctly heard -shots, but a storm of fire. It roared, it whistled, -it exploded without respite, as if all the -furies of hell were yelping, in a thick, metallic -sky. At the left, little by little, an ever-reddening -glow showed the neighboring city of -Rheims, which the Boches were bombarding -in a mad rage of destruction. We saw the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -flames leap up, the houses kindle like torches -and throw toward the sky clouds of sparks -and streams of black and red smoke. Everything -seemed flaming and tottering and falling -in a wild delirium. The earth itself opened to -swallow the last survivors. In the trenches -the bodies of the dead were heaped, and twisted -or bleeding corpses choked the passageways.</p> - -<p>Fiercely, convulsively, desperately, the comrades -who were unhurt fought at their loopholes. -Reinforcements came from the rear -in haste, and took their places. Their eyes -were those of madmen, their breath was panting.</p> - -<p>“The assault will be here in a minute, boys,” -I said to my nearest neighbors. “Look out -for yourselves. Have your cartridges ready. -You, there, lift your gun higher, or you will -fire badly! And you, aim toward that corner -you see over there!”</p> - -<p>Berthet helped me, with a tragic manner -of responsibility; the underofficers ran from -one man to another crying: “Keep cool! We -will get them! Just let them come on!”</p> - -<p>Then the action rushed on even more furiously, -more demoniac. In the midst of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> -increased cannonade the gun-fire rattled. It -commenced at the left, gained the centre, -reached the right. The whole line crackled -like the beginning of a roll of thunder. We -could no longer see ahead of us. We fired as -fast as possible, without knowing where, cutting -into space.</p> - -<p>“Here they are! Keep cool!”</p> - -<p>In the dim light a gray mass was oscillating. -As it rapidly advanced, we could distinguish -small objects on the plain, like moving blades -of grass. We fired: cries could be heard. We -fired more rapidly. The gas was dissipating, -but the night was becoming thick. Our only -light was the blazing city of Rheims and the -glow of shells. The pandemonium increased. -One could distinguish only his immediate neighbor, -lifting his gun, firing, recoiling from the -discharge, replacing the spent cartridge with -a full one. The pungent taste of burnt powder -penetrated the throat. We sweat. We no -longer feared. We pulled the trigger; we were -fighting, we were defending the soil, the trench, -the sector, in a blind rage. <i>They should not -take it!</i> They should give up; they should -fall back. We would kill them all rather than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -permit their feet to contaminate the spot we -were guarding.</p> - -<p>This endured for more than an hour, this -insane uproar of shrieking voices, crashing -cannon, cracking rifles; while Rheims, in flames -threw to the wind her streamers of light.</p> - -<p>We had no accurate idea of the battle as a -whole. Each man acted for himself, for the -little corner of ground in range of his rifle, for -the piece of trench which he was holding. -At one side, the Boches jumped into the trench, -cut the throats of the nearest men, then fell, -themselves stabbed by bayonets. At another -point they penetrated the barbed-wire entanglements, -remained caught there, struggling -to free themselves, and were cut to pieces by -our fire. Farther on, our shells crushed them. -We were scarcely conscious of it. We elbowed -our neighbors, we exchanged encouragement, -we shrieked when we would speak. We were -so intense, so full of fury, that many were frothing -when commanded to desist. The underofficers -exhausted themselves in crying halt, -and had to shake each man to awaken him, -to bring him to himself, to make him understand. -We felt exasperated.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>However, the cannonade was decreasing in -violence. The gun-fire ceased, reviving only -at intervals. The stretcher-bearers ran up, -took away the wounded, picked up the tortured -gas victims, whose lungs creaked like -the bellows of a forge. The battle was over. -The Boches were repulsed. In spite of their -gas, in spite of the surprise, in spite of their -cannon, they left on the field before us almost -a battalion: sprawling corpses, dismembered -like broken puppets; dead men who gaped at -the stars; wounded who soon were dead. -Our losses were considerable, theirs were much -greater. Twenty of their number remained -with us as prisoners. Haggard and stunned, -they were led to the rear for the interrogatory.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Well, how has it been?” I asked Berthet, -as I gripped his hand. “It was superb!” he -responded. There was a hole in his coat. “Not -touched?” “No, a ball just missed taking -me off.” He said it with a calm which I admired. -He concealed from me the fact that -he had breathed the abominable vapors.</p> - -<p>After all, it was only a local action on our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -line. It was not, in the generally accepted -sense, a battle. All of us have seen much greater -since then. However, on account of the gas, -this first engagement is vividly present in our -memory, a recollection never to be effaced. -It was an encounter so strange! That foul -vapor which enveloped the earth, which ate -its way into the fibre of the clothing we wore, -corroded and withered the leaves on the trees, -and changed the aspect of God’s sane creation -into a distorted image of hell, will remain forever -one of the deepest infamies of the Germans. -After contact with this poisoned cloud, -nothing retained its original appearance. The -arms were red without being rusty, the color -of uniforms was changed. There were very -few of our men suffering from gun or bayonet -wounds, but whole mounds of those who died -in convulsions: poor, twisted dead, who -agonized in dying; so disfigured their own -mothers could not have recognized them. Some -of them were wringing their hands, others -were swallowing stones, others seemed to be -rammed into the earth like stakes. This was -not war; it was worse. This was not the rain -of bullets which pierce the flesh, or break a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -skull in passing. This was not the brutal shell, -which bursts to fragments, scatters in a thousand -directions and mows down a group of -men as gayly as a child knocks down a house -of cards. This was another matter. It was -the very air turned accomplice of the enemy; -blinded eyes, frothing mouth, rotted lungs, -a breast on fire; every effort exerted redoubling -the torture; the rescuer struck down above -the man he attempted to save; the officer suffering -like his men; the telephone-operator -seized in his shelter, the courier arrested in -his course, all alike smothered and struggling -with death. This was a breath from the depths -of hell, this diabolic invention, which that -monster, the German Junker, forced men to -choose: weapon of meanness and treachery, -which sets at naught the valor of both defender -and assailant!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VII<br /> - - -<small>RHEIMS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">WHEN the life fantastic becomes the -life ordinary, when one is at the -centre of prodigious events which -unroll more rapidly than the picture on the -screen, and appear in ever-new guise, the astonishing -thing becomes a natural thing; the -unheard-of becomes the expected. A distortion -of sensation is produced; the brain registers -only that which surpasses the climax of what -has already been experienced; as on mountain -heights, peaks which have been surmounted -appear low, and the climber feels that only -those are high which are still above him.</p> - -<p>Thus it became the ordinary thing for Berthet -and me, as for our companions, to live in the -extraordinary and the supernatural. We felt -quite at home in it, and moved at our ease in -a situation which, for him at least, would have -been untenable a few short months before. -We had become soldiers like the others, eating, -when we could, a meagre and coarse ration;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -sleeping when it was possible; in constant -danger of death, but avoiding it apparently -by instinct. We lived with no more care than -the beasts of the field; with beards long, hands -dirty. We dug in the earth, as did all the rest; -we watched at the parapets with eyes puffed -from lack of sleep. Uncouthness grew upon -us, and we appeared, at dawn, in the glacial -cold, muffled up in pieces of cloth and skins of -animals; hairy, hideous, and fearsome.</p> - -<p>We were on patrol duty one night. Creeping -about, we passed the listening-post and -advanced on No Man’s Land. Like savages, -we stalked the enemy for hours, trying to surprise -some unknown men: soldiers like ourselves, -who might be lost between the lines; -men anxious like ourselves, and like ourselves -afraid of death and suffering. Then we returned, -annoyed to come back without having -bagged a foe; regretful that we had not been -able to spill some man’s blood. However——</p> - -<p>“However”—thus we reasoned.</p> - -<p>Often, in the evening, when we were free -between periods of sentry duty, we would -delay our share of heavy sleep wherein one -forgot all; when one lay stretched like a beast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -in a stable, on a little straw in the depth of a -retreat, poorly protected from the wind and -the shells. We would walk the hundred paces -of the length of the communication-trench, -conversing.</p> - -<p>The night enveloped us; the night palpitating -with the noise of battle. We could hear -the crack of rifles and the roar of cannon. Sometimes -the flying steel whirled over our heads -with its weird whistle. Some corvées passed, -heavily loaded, carrying materials for attack -and defense. Habituated as we were to the -sight and sound, oblivious to the familiar racket, -we walked quite tranquilly, in spirit far removed -from our surroundings, expanding our -thoughts and confiding our dreams. All sorts -of subjects shared our attention: art, history, -literature, politics, we touched upon them all, -commented upon all as if we had been a hundred -leagues away from the war, as if no other -occupation had the least claim upon us. The -contrast was so vivid, the difference so striking, -that sometimes we stopped and exclaimed in -amazement at ourselves.</p> - -<p>By this time we had no childish vanity in -the matter. Our sense of pride was rather<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -above it. We called no one’s attention to our -calm indifference. No! It was night, we were -lost in the shadows, no one could see us. We -were simply relaxing our brains in withdrawing -our thought from the present; in leading it, -by means of conversation, toward the past -and the future.</p> - -<p>One particular desire which we held in -common was frequently mentioned: we wished -to visit Rheims, which was quite near. Our -regiment formed a part of the troops of coverture -of the city. However, we could not enter -the town without permission, and this could -not be obtained without good reason. We -finally found an excuse, and the rest was easy.</p> - -<p>One morning, armed with our permit, we -set out. The expedition was not without danger. -For several months, since we had occupied -the trenches at the north of the city, we had -known that the Boches were obstinately bent -upon its destruction. Every day brought its -rain of shells. We could see the flames shoot -up, we could see writhing columns of smoke -mount to the heavens. No matter; the visit -tempted us, and the most violent storm of -iron and fire would not have deterred us.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>So we went. We prepared our minds, as -we thought, for every possible surprise; we -were not prepared for what we were destined -to find. Approaching by the Faubourg Cires, -we entered a ruin. We saw nothing but demolished -houses, entire streets swept by machine -fire, gnawed by flames, blackened by -smoke. Tottering façades, holding their -equilibrium by a miracle, supported the skeletons -of apartment-buildings, in whose walls -blackened shell-holes seemed like dead eyes -opened on a void. Heaps of plaster and stone -fallen from the walls rendered passage difficult -and impeded our progress. Occasionally, an -entire section of wall would swing slowly, balance -for an instant, then fall in a cloud of dust. -It was a house in its death-throes.</p> - -<p>After passing this scene of desolation, we -entered a quarter still intact, where, to our -stupefaction, the city came to life again. There -only a few injuries to buildings were visible. -Here and there a shell had wounded a structure. -The general appearance of everything -was quite peaceful. The inhabitants followed -the usual routine of life with apparent serenity. -Open shops offered their merchandise. Young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -girls came and went smiling. A pastry-cook -spread out his tarts and nougats; a stationer -displayed his pencils and office supplies; a -haberdasher’s window was filled with collars -and cravats. Nothing indicated war. People -went up and down about their business; old -women gossiped on their door-step, and peddlers -cried their wares.</p> - -<p>Around the Place Royale, which was absolutely -in ruins, cabmen awaited a fare, stroking -the manes of their bony horses, or discussing -the price received for the last trip. -In the public gardens mothers watched their -little ones at play, caressing them or scolding -them, as if their entire life were assured, as -if no thought of anything unusual entered -their brain.</p> - -<p>Was it bravery, indifference, habit? Who -knows? We were dumbfounded. What! In -a city crushed by shells, tortured by fire, subjected -to the most barbarous treatment, how -was it possible to be so matter-of-fact? Could -the life of the populace continue in its usual -channels, indifferent to danger, removed from -fear, calm as in time of peace?</p> - -<p>We must look closer to perceive under the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -surface the explanation of the anomaly; everywhere, -people seated or standing observed a -patient discipline in using only one side of -the street: the one exposed to the direct shock -of the shells. Only a city long exposed to -bombardment could conceive such a mechanical -precaution. It is a protection, because the -shell, in falling, bursts; its splinters fly in the -opposite direction to that taken by the projectile.</p> - -<p>We soon saw the working out of the principle. -Attracted by an open shop, we made some -purchases at our leisure. A sinister shriek -crossed the sky, and a racket followed. “They -are bombarding,” calmly remarked the young -woman who served us. She listened. “It is -at the cathedral.” Then she continued, most -unconcernedly: “Let us see! Some braid? It -is at the other counter. You get the buttons -here, and the wool and the thread. Is that all -you wish? That makes a franc sixty.”</p> - -<p>Another roar, this time nearer. The street -was immediately deserted. So quickly that a -stranger could not observe the action, every -passer-by disappeared. Every one went underground, -somewhere, into an open cellar. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -happened as naturally and quickly as in ordinary -times when people find shelter from -a sudden shower. They knew that the hour -to seek cover had arrived. The shower of -steel would last until evening, and would not -cease until a new quarter was obliterated. It -was the turn of one <i>faubourg</i>, therefore the -others would escape this time. Consequently, -outside the zone attacked, existence might -continue as usual.</p> - -<p>Already the rescue squads were running in -the direction of the falling shells, as resolute -and well disciplined as when at drill. Duty -called them. They responded, “Present,” without -fear or hesitation: down there people -were dying under the ruins of their homes. -The stretcher-bearers rescued the injured in -the midst of the tumult. If they had been -praised for their heroism, they would have -resented the praise as an insult.</p> - -<p>When recovered from our first astonishment, -Berthet and I set out. This martyred city, -so tragic and so calm, seemed to us superhuman. -We found it beautiful. We felt a desire to -weep, to cry out, as we looked at its reddened -walls, its yawning windows and wrecked roofs.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> -We went about gently, as one walks in a place -of suffering and sorrow. In our rather aimless -wandering, reverent as in a sacred place, we -came suddenly in front of the cathedral.</p> - -<p>It rose before us like a queen, at the turn of -the street. The lofty façade, stained by fire -in shades of gold and blood, lifted its proud -head to the sky. The towers were like two -arms stretched imploringly toward heaven: -one reddened by fire, the other clothed by the -centuries in the blue veil which shrouds ancient -monuments. Between them the shattered -rose-window seemed to moan distractedly: a -silent sob. That dumb mouth in that fire-reddened -face seemed to cry with such hatred, -with such anguish, that we stopped, gripped -by the sight.</p> - -<p>It was there that the great Crime had written -its name! There, where France had inscribed -the most sacred things of her history; there, -by the cradle of the nation, on the book always -open, the assassin had left his thumb-print; -his infamy remained inscribed in each gaping -wound, on each fallen statue. The high towers -attested to heaven the execrable violence. The -roof was gone, like the scalp which the savage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -tears from the head of his victim. The eyes of -God could search to the flagstones and judge -with one glance the foul deed.</p> - -<p>Outside the church the <i>Place</i> was gloomy, -but sublime. By an effect of fatality, it had -become the dwelling-place of the holy relics -driven from the interior. The tabernacle was -no longer in the heart of the cathedral, but -scattered in fragments around it: the choir -encircled the church. Fragments of stained-glass -replaced the organ-pipes, and the wind -moaned through the leaden groins, and chanted -the dirge of the sacred spot.</p> - -<p>Cathedral! Church thrice holy! The murderer -tried to destroy thee: he has given thee -eternal life. He tried to gag and choke thee: -but the voice from thy tortured throat resounds -higher and clearer throughout the world. -In his stupidity he believed he could annihilate -thee: instead, he has glorified thee. Cathedral! -A song in stone, a hymn—hymn too -ethereal for the human ear to catch; a poem -of beauty and light, which the sodden Boche -thought to efface, but which stands resplendent, -a witness of his shame, before humanity and -eternal righteousness. Divine, immortal cathedral!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -Men have never created a human prayer -more sublime than art thou, bombarded. The -German shell believed it had power to destroy -thee. It has crushed thine arches and broken -thy wings. Thou hadst no need of wings to -soar. As a spirit of light thou hast floated -above the city; now thou rulest over the city -the war, and France; as a symbol, thou art -resplendent over all the world. Rheims, thou -wert the shrine of France; broken, thou art -become her emblem. Thou art no longer ours -alone. Thy majesty rises unshaken, triumphant, -a divine intelligence facing savage cruelty; -a barrier touched, but not destroyed, -defying bestiality.</p> - -<p>We had no words to express our emotions. -We walked about, in silent exaltation. From -its purple shroud, still smoking, the enormous -basilique spoke to us. Great scenes in history -were enacted in its sacred precincts: all the -sacred kings, the noble sons of France; Clovis -baptized by St. Remy; Charles VII led by -Jeanne d’Arc, whose bronze image still defies -the enemy from the porch of the church; -Charles X, last king anointed in this august -place—all, all were there as restless phantoms;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -powerful, saintly, silent, looking on. We were -satiated with emotion, bewildered by a hundred -beauties: the light through the broken -arches, the fragments of art treasures in the -dust at our feet, the scintillating glass on the -flagstones. We went away, fairly giddy with -its impassioned grandeur.</p> - -<p>The increased cannonade directed our course. -It was impossible to remain longer. We crossed -the forsaken park and made a détour around -the deserted station. Behind us lay a city of -silence, but her martyrdom continued incessantly. -Shrill whirrings made the air quiver. -Shells growled above the roofs, leaped the -streets, crossed the squares, threatened, fell -and exploded. There was a sudden crash of -collapsing floors and of tumbling masonry. -A quarter, somewhere in the city, was being -pounded to dust and débris; an entire quarter -was being hammered out of existence. Clouds -of plaster filled the air; great stones crumbled.</p> - -<p>Families were unable to escape. Their homes, -which should have sheltered them, were thrown -wide open to the brutal dangers of the street. -The invalid’s bed tottered in the ruins, the -baby was thrown from its cradle. The old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -man died at the side of the youth, the wife -in the arms of her husband, the child at its -mother’s breast. The criminal extermination, -determined upon and planned, was completing -its frightful work, was blotting out a city, was -beating to death a country. The Boche, squatting -on the commanding heights, aimed his -guns with ease, made sure of his fire and picked -out his prey. He struck practically without -risk to himself, sure to hit a target in the chaos -of roofs, to demolish and to destroy. A town—what -an immense quarry! The shell may -fall where it will: it is sure to kill. The explosion -will burst in some window, will cross -some bedchamber, will find some victim. A -town is a quarry more easily sighted than a -battery. It is huge, it is immovable, it cannot -reply. One can destroy it without danger to -oneself.</p> - -<p>Therefore the shells fell unerringly; only -the flames and smoke made reply....</p> - -<p>We paid it no further attention.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>My poor Berthet, charming companion, and -sharer of so many unforgettable experiences, -was unable to follow the regiment through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -all its struggles. One day, while in the Rheims -sector, he suffered severely in a gas attack -and the physicians ordered him to the rear -for treatment in one of the resting-camps. -Gradually the soft air of France healed his -tortured lungs and started him on the path -of recovery. The German poison had, however, -severely shaken his constitution and the -cure was slow. He was unable to rejoin us -for the tragic trials at Verdun.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VIII<br /> - - -<small>DISTRACTIONS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">EXISTENCE in the trenches is characterized -by a monotony that soon -becomes a burden. It is made up of -waiting and work: work in which a man is -by turns dirt-digger, sentinel, carpenter, and -porter. There is much time for rest and repose. -It is a special type of life, which recalls -that of the sieges of olden days, when armies -sat long months at a time facing each other. -One does not fight all the time. The vigil is -constant, but the struggle is not. There is -the incessant watching of the field in front, -the unrelaxed tension of stalking the enemy; -and at the rear the staleness of inaction.</p> - -<p>What is there to do? Sleep, certainly. Then -find amusement, for the time is long. The -hours move slowly, night follows day and day -night without bringing change. Therefore, -one must exercise his ingenuity.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>One writes a lot of letters. There is always -a relative to enlighten, or a sweetheart to console, -or a mother to entertain. Letters arrive -which are read and reread. Then the newspapers -bring their limited ration of news. We -discuss their contents. We learn that the -submarine warfare is extending; that the -Zeppelins have gone over England; that the -Bulgars are attacking the Roumanians; that -a great parliamentary speech has explained -to the world the causes of the upheaval. Thus -we kill a few more minutes. Then ennui returns: -dull tediousness that puts the thumbscrews -on the brain; homesickness for the -distant fireside, for the old life renounced for -war; yearning for the past, still near and yet -so far. One wanders about and knows not -what to do. One fellow has some playing-cards -and opens a game. We smoke, and dream, -and sew, and clean our arms. We await our -turn at sentry duty. It rains. We yawn. -The sun comes out, one risks his life to pay a -visit to his neighbors. The picturesque ceases -to be, by reason of familiarity. One sees nothing -of that which at first fixed his attention. The -deep trench where crazy grasses hang is a road<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> -only too well trodden. The mess is stale, the -card-game stupid. One is bored to death and -utterly worthless.</p> - -<p>Then the inveterate wag intervenes. He -sings, he “joshes.” He brings a laugh. The -dying conversation revives. Those who were -dozing sit up again and take notice. Circles -form. Each one tells a story, and the long -faces spread into smiles. Torpor is banished -for a moment. The man who was cutting a -cane with his pocket-knife exhibits it. It is -fine and much admired. The man who hollowed -out an inkstand from a fuse brings it -forth. His work is curious, dainty, and ornamental: -bravo! A painter is there, an artist, -who brings out his album; he has a hundred -drawings, warm with color. Each man would -like to possess a copy. That is the end: there -is nothing more. All this is too brief, and the -time is too long. We cast about for something -new.</p> - -<p>In a hut some one installs a museum. It -is a collection of souvenirs of the field of battle. -The gathered trophies hang on the walls. A -Boche helmet is near a freakishly twisted -splinter. A German trooper’s sword-belt hangs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> -near a saw-bayonet. There are cartridge-boxes, -fragments of guns, the button of a tassel -from the sabre of a buried German officer. -Every one is interested in the work and brings -his contribution to enrich the collection. It -does not belong to any one in particular, but -is owned jointly. It is the pride of the sector -and the joy of the regiment. It receives the -<i>casse-tête</i> picked up after the last hand-to-hand -scrimmage with the Boches; a reservoir of -liquid fire, whose bearer lies somewhere near -the trench that he sought to enter; some fragments -of grenades—anything which one might -pick up on a kilometre of ground furrowed -by projectiles, dug up by shells, or ploughed -by cannon-balls. Curious conglomeration! -Glorious scraps of iron! Mute witnesses of -the fury of men, implements of their ferocity!</p> - -<p>At another spot some man who loves the -cultivation of the land cares for a wee patch -of garden. A garden, yes, that is what I said. -In the midst of the trenches. He has planted -some pansies, a sprig of stock, and three clumps -of pinks. He waters them every morning, and -watches them carefully. Woe to any careless -foot that might crush them! These flowers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -in the sombre surroundings, breathe perfume -and poetry.</p> - -<p>At another spot a fight between a dog and -a rat is pulled off. A lieutenant sets a fox-terrier -on a promising hole of the rodents. -A group of men look on eagerly. One, armed -with a pick, enlarges the opening. Another -removes a stone which was in the way. The -dog, trembling with excitement, sniffs, paws, -digs, buries his nose in the earth, scratches, -reaches the animal at the bottom of his retreat—seizes -him! Good dog! He shakes -the rat furiously, breaking his back. The -victor is applauded and petted.</p> - -<p>Simple distractions, these! I will pass them -by quickly. There is the man who makes -chains of welded wire; the one whose hobby -is photography. One mysterious fellow amuses -himself with cookery. There are some secret -pursuits, like that of the inveterate hunters, -who place game-traps at twilight and at dawn -endanger their lives to go out to empty them. -There are fishermen who drop lines in the canal. -A hundred avocations are followed on the edge -of the war, side by side with the service, in -range of the cannon and punctuated by shells.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>I had my occupation, as well as the others, -you may be sure. I published a newspaper: -a great affair. A newspaper, in the trenches—that -savors at once of a trade and of an adventure. -Title: <i>The War Cry</i>, appearing once -a month. Every month, then, I had a problem: -to get paper. An obliging cyclist had to bring -it from the village on the day fixed. He left -it at the foot of a sapling, no matter what the -uproar overhead; no matter how large the -edition of shrapnel messages from the Germans. -Oh, honest pulp, intended for a simple life, -into what scenes of adventure art thou thrust!</p> - -<p>In one trench the print-shop was twenty -feet underground. It was illuminated by three -night-lamps, set in a triangle. At another -place the shop was on a level with the surface -of the ground, and the bombardment scattered -sand and pebbles over the proof. At another -time it was installed in a bedroom of a ruined -house. As there was no roof to catch the rain, -it fell in large tears on the printer and the printing. -No matter! The number was issued, -illustrated. It was eagerly sought, and the -copies circulated briskly, carrying gratuitous -joy, smoothing knit brows, bringing a laugh,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> -and, finally, carrying to the rear the gayety -of the front.</p> - -<p>When I look back upon these labors, they -seem to me childish. In their place, they were -amazing. The Great Tragedy held us constantly -in its clutch. The man who was polishing -a ring for his fiancée did not finish it: that -very evening a ball or a piece of shell shattered -the work and destroyed the worker. The man -who was carving a walking-stick was a mutilated -wreck before his work was finished. The danger -was incessant. In these occupations we sought -distraction from the thought of it all, but one -could never ward off that which fate held in -store for him. It was an intermission snatched -from ennui; a truce; and when one was doing -fairly well, thinking no more of physical discomfort -and mental anguish, suddenly the -cannon barked, the alarm was sounded, and -the dance of hell was on again!</p> - -<p>“Outside: trench thirteen!”</p> - -<p>Then we ran. We left the rings and walking-sticks -and the newspaper. <i>The War Cry</i>—It -was the real war cry now. The Boche -had come upon us by stealth. It might be -night or day, morning or evening. He slid,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -he crept, he crouched, he jumped into our -trench. We must hack him to pieces with -grenades. Then we must put up again a fallen -splinter-shield, reconstruct an observation-post, -open again a filled-up trench. The shells -came like gusts of wind, the shrapnel flew, -smoked, and stunk.</p> - -<p>Or, at another time, it was our turn to leap -out, run to the assault, take a trench, hold it, -and guard it.</p> - -<p>It was necessary, from time to time, to go to -the rear that we might enjoy some real security -and relaxation.</p> - -<p>The relief! Who will ever adequately sing -its praise? It came at night, ordinarily. Two -or three days before the event the sector saw -strangers arrive for a visit, officers and sergeants, -who looked around and took instructions. -This is the way they were shown -about:</p> - -<p>“Look out at this point. This part of the -trench seems to be in easy range of the -guns.”</p> - -<p>“This is a bad corner. Torpedoes hit it -every morning. Go by quickly over there, for -you can be seen.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>“Every man who passes this spot is saluted -by a bullet. We have some wounded every -evening.”</p> - -<p>They took notes, made observations and inquiries. -We looked upon their activities with -satisfaction. They were the forerunners of -comrades who were about to come, in their -turn, to enjoy a period in the open country—underground. -They never came too soon. -Already we were making up our packets, putting -our affairs in order, buckling our knapsacks, -filling our side-bags.</p> - -<p>We departed fewer than we came. We left -some chums in the earth, under humble mounds -marked with a cross. There was one man surprised -when on patrol—he was carried back -dying in the arms of his companions. Another, -disembowelled by a grenade, fell at his -post without a cry. We had known these men, -we had loved them. One was gay, one was -grave. All were loyal comrades whom we -would never see again. When killed they had -remained all day lying at their posts. A cloth -was thrown over them, concealing the face and -partly covering the body. In the evening when -the shadows fell, we put them in their graves.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>It was very simple. If possible, the section -surrounded the grave, a rough excavation hollowed -in the dirt thrown up from the trenches. -Sometimes, not always, some one murmured a -prayer. The body was lowered, and the dead -went his way saluted as a hero by the cannon. -That was all. It was sad and impressive, simple -as an unpremeditated gesture. Some one -put a bunch of field-flowers on the fresh mound. -The soldier’s cap was placed on the wooden -cross. Then into a bottle was slipped the name -of the departed—dead that France might live, -fallen at his post of honor. Immediately we -returned to our places, to watch and to fight. -To-day it was he. To-morrow it would be -one’s self.</p> - -<p>The relief came by following the communication-trenches. -Curious concerning their new -post, the fresh arrivals asked many questions:</p> - -<p>“Pretty nifty here, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Where are the kitchens?”</p> - -<p>We informed them as rapidly as possible. -We wished that they would arrive more quickly. -It seemed as if we would perish in waiting for -them, and that the danger increased by their -coming. They made a lot of noise. They went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> -back and forth, they talked. Surely the Boche -would hear them and let loose his cannon.</p> - -<p>In fact, that is what often occurred. Then -the brutal shells added to the disorder. Ignorant -of the shelters, lost in the thick darkness, -the new arrivals flattened themselves out where -they could. Their non-commissioned officers -reassembled them and led them on in jostled -disorder. It seemed that the confusion would -never end, that we would have to stay there, -all mixed together like tangled thread from an -unwound spool. It seemed that the deadly -hammering would annihilate us all, down in the -earth. Then the officers brought order from -chaos. The first line took their places. At the -posts of listening the new men replaced the old.</p> - -<p>“Notice that recess: that is where the Boches -send their love-tokens.”</p> - -<p>“Do you see that black pile over yonder? -Behind it is a German machine-gun.”</p> - -<p>Down in the shelters the new men were -making themselves at home, the departing men -were gathering up their belongings.</p> - -<p>“Good luck to you!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry about that!”</p> - -<p>Then we set out. We reached the line of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -supply, and crossed a clearing filled with artillery. -We could breathe more easily. We were -going away, toward repose. At last, in the -darkness, we found the road. Conversation -began, pipes were lighted. We were getting -farther away from the tunnels, from the depths -of the earth, and from death. Though still -menaced by shells, we felt liberated. We came -to a demolished village occupied by moving -shadows: men who remained at the rear, in the -accessory service of food supply and munitions. -Lanterns bobbed here and there. Some horses -hitched by the road switched their tails in -friendly salute. We went on. We met an -ammunition-train going at full speed in a terrible -racket of wheels and oaths. Still we -marched. We descended a slope. Over yonder -lay the Promised Land, spared by the gods -of war: where the crops were growing; where -the houses had roofs, the villages had inhabitants, -the barns had straw; where there was -wine to drink, girls to look at, and merchandise -to buy. It was all there. We knew it. The -recollections of our former visit came to mind. -One hoped to find the cantonment running on -as in the last sojourn; la mère Laprot, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -knew so well how to cook an omelet, and big -Berthe, whose teeth were so white when she -smiled.</p> - -<p>One gave an energetic hunch to the knapsack. -One recognized every tree, every turn of the -road. We were getting nearer. One more -pause and we would be there. We must still -climb a bluff, steep as a ladder, leading to the -plateau. We climbed—for everything can be -overcome.</p> - -<p>At last we arrived. The village awaited us -with open arms. We entered, and were at -home.</p> - -<p>The shed was hospitable as ever. We felt -of the straw, and laid aside our accoutrement. -The arms and leather trappings made a little -pile at the head of each man’s place. Blankets -came out of the knapsacks. How delicious to -stretch at full length on the straw! A few moments -more and a hundred sonorous snores, -deep and diversified, blended their antiphones -under the worm-eaten roof.</p> - -<p>Life entered the village with the troops. -From early morning the streets swarmed. -Wagons lined up under the trees and unpacked -their loads. Horses chewed their hay while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -switching their tails contentedly, or enjoyed -long drinks at the trough. The blacksmith -hammered the glowing horseshoes in the midst -of a smoky haze. The buffets were full. The -cold-meat shop was invaded. The grocer was -besieged until he emptied his boxes. It was a -rush, a battle, an assault.</p> - -<p>“Some sausage!”</p> - -<p>“Some thread!”</p> - -<p>“Some soap!”</p> - -<p>“How much for this cheese?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take that box!”</p> - -<p>The coins jingled. Happy laughter responded -to happy smiles. Wine flowed. At the river -laundry the surface of the stream was billowy -white with the suds from well-washed clothing. -With a drum for a chair, the barber was busy -with his razor. At another place shower-baths -completed the work of renovation. New -faces emerged, fresh-skinned and wide-eyed. -The exuberant joy of youth burst forth into -gay cries and bodily freedom. Visits were -exchanged. The smoking kitchens were sending -out delicious odors. The non-coms were -kept busy hunting for their men who had disappeared, -flown away.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>By noon, however, the troop was again in -order. In the square the soldiers were in line, -with arms polished and garments clean. The -roll was called. Their appearance was noted, -their losses of equipment were made good. -The report was read. We learned that such -an one was cited for bravery, that the general -was pleased, that we would remain eight days -without molestation.</p> - -<p>Then the gayety increased. We organized -to make the most of our vacation. Some men -with a bright idea arranged a theatre and prepared -a concert. Two sawhorses supported -the stage, which we trimmed with leaves. We -draped the flag of the <i>mairie</i> overhead. The -programme was quickly arranged, as we had -a considerable talent in the regiment.</p> - -<p>On the day appointed for the performance -chairs were placed for the higher officers, the -chief of the battalion, and the captains. The -privates noisily disposed of themselves as chance -permitted. There were spectators roosting on -the wheels of carts, others perched on straw-stacks; -wherever a body could hold its equilibrium, -there was a body. An improvised orchestra -opened the entertainment. Then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> -several singers followed with comic songs. -The applause was tumultuous, as high spirits -mounted higher. We forgot the war, at that -moment, and its suffering and privation. A -ballad touched our deeper sentiment. A monologue -was punctuated with laughter. The -hilarious faces of the spectators told of their -pleasure—the joy of living, with youth and -health. We relaxed our tense nerves, and became -human beings again. There were no -more shells, no more mud, no more guard duty, -no more fatigue. The tragedy had paused; -and, if one had not heard the growling rage -of the cannon bent upon its work of death and -destruction, one would have believed that -there could be no more pleasant existence.</p> - -<p>On other days there were games in the open -air. Like children freed from school the men -ran in the meadows, tussled in a game of -prisoner’s base, or played leap-frog. The suppleness -of body, the litheness of movement, -were such as to inspire admiration. These -were no longer soldiers, but graceful athletes, -with agile muscles and solid torso. Under the -trees gently waving in the breeze, with the -clear sky of France above a charming countryside,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -the scene evoked the picture of the athletic -games of antiquity. Not even the group of -philosophers was lacking, walking up and down -and arguing.</p> - -<p>Thus the hours ran on, peaceful and all too -short. The troop took a fresh breath, renewed -its spirit, calmed excited nerves, found new -courage and a magnificent enthusiasm. The -cruel remembrance of dark hours, of horrible -spectacles, of losses, became dim. We found -again a vibrant love of life. The soul-sickness -which had grown upon us at the parapets, -under the shells, melted away in the new environment, -in the joy of a recreation dearly -won.</p> - -<p>The week of vacation was completed. They -were new men, refreshed and invigorated, who -fell into line when the hour arrived. In the -darkness we retraced the road by which we -had come. We were returning to the battle, -we were re-entering the tunnels, the dugouts, -the redans, the trenches, the parallels. Now -we were the relief, in our turn. We took our -place. We brought back with us arms, food, -replenished cartridge-boxes, new men to fill -the vacancies in our ranks. More than that,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -we brought back valor, patience, faith, and a -spirit reborn.</p> - -<p>We entered again the domain of death, again -we began the agony.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">IX<br /> - - -<small>THE BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">A YEAR had passed. The Marne and -the Yser had gone into history. We -knew that enormous preparations were -in progress behind our lines. They are always -known. The symptoms are perfectly visible. -The artillery is massed, the various operations -are pushed more vigorously, new precautions -are taken.</p> - -<p>Vague rumors are afloat. Every one wishes -to appear informed, and the strangest forecasts, -the most absurd reports are passed from -mouth to mouth, originating no one knows -where.</p> - -<p>“We are going clear to the Rhine, this time!”</p> - -<p>“What! do you think? As far as the Meuse, -and already——”</p> - -<p>“The cavalry is massed at the rear; and if -the cavalry passes, the line is already smashed. -Then, <i>mon vieux</i>, how far do you think we’ll -go?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>The war was changing its aspect. Germany, -checked at the Marne, seemed to have an unsuspected -force. Her regiments were renewed -continuously. They seemed to spring from -the ground, an uncounted host, capable of -breaking over any barrier. Unprepared France, -in accepting the combat, profited by the period -of “digging in,” to cast big guns and manufacture -shells. A colossal effort galvanized her -hope. People repeated the famous words of -Joffre: “Je les grignote.”<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></p> - -<p>We were confident: Germany could not -win. She would be beaten as soon as we could -collect guns and ammunition in sufficient quantities. -Some words of the generals came down -to the ranks. Gallieni had said: “They are -in the trenches—they are lost!”</p> - -<p>We believed it, we were sure of it. The -humblest cook, in his smoky <i>abri</i>, spattered -with his sauces, his blackened face beaming -with smiles, had no more doubt of it than the -major-general in his automobile.</p> - -<p>Many furloughs had been granted. Each -man had been allowed to visit his family, and -had spread assurance of success in return for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -the festivities his friends had prepared for him. -No doubts found lodgment in the minds of -the people. On tenter-hooks the country -awaited victory. Trembling old mothers believed -it, tearful wives put faith in it, fathers -felt convinced of it. At last we would be -avenged, we would punish the enemy’s infamous -arrogance, we would chastise him, we -would crush him. We were going to crunch -him by an enormous pressure, overthrow his -system of trenches, advance, break his line; -and then, with one burst of valor, we would -hurl him back whence he came—into his deep -forests, as far as the Rhine; perhaps still farther, -to his lair. Every one knew the good news, -counted on it, awaited it with impatience.</p> - -<p>People liked the bearing of the soldiers. All -were delighted to see them so robust, so hardened; -more alert than at the beginning, more -viril, more manly. The warrior’s helmet graced -his forehead like an aureole. The men were -fêted and showered with tokens of affection. -Long trains brought them home—so ardent, -and young, and splendid; shouting their joy -in the stations, passing through towns with -the air of a victor. How the women admired<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> -them! They were treated (in advance) as -liberators. Those sober people who still were -apprehensive of the outcome, who reckoned -up the future and calculated the chances, were -looked upon with a reproachful eye. This -time it was certain: we would pass!</p> - -<p>The opening came the 20th of September. -A furious storm of artillery saluted the dawn, -and set the thunder rolling. It was a prodigious -simoon. The sky cracked with the terrible, -hot breath; the earth itself bubbled. A deluge -of red-hot iron fell. It was more than a noise: -it was a tempest, a gigantic roaring, the forge -of Vulcan in full action; an entire sector of -the front bursting into flame. What a fantastic -tornado! All calibers of shells shrieked together. -No single voice of cannon could be -distinguished in the concert. They were blended -in one roll, as if a god had sounded the charge -on a gigantic drum. The avalanche of steel -fell on the enemy’s breastworks, spattered over -the intervening space, let loose billows of smoke, -dust, and flames. The very earth seemed to -cry out to heaven, as it was pounded to powder -and scorched by the fire. Entire sections of -trench walls leaped into the air; a giant plough<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span> -turned over the tunnels. A heavy cloud formed, -grew thicker, rolled over the battle-field. The -passing hours augmented the uproar. No -sooner did the climax appear to be reached -than the tumult increased afresh.</p> - -<p>Massed near the field of carnage, the bivouacked -troops were in readiness. Each company -had its rôle, and each was ready. Each -knew at what hour to join the dance. They -were going to pierce through, they would pass! -Comrades exchanged encouragement and last -promises. All hoped to survive, and pursue -the routed foe in a sweeping victory.</p> - -<p>Our regiment, like others, awaited the call. -It had no active part in the festivity, but was -present. This was for us a poignant grief. In -our sector, not a sound. The cannon were as -silent as if every living thing had become a -mere spectator of the drama. As the roaring -increased in volume from minute to minute, -we listened. We divined the scene. We could -follow it in the clouds, and in the sounds carried -by the breeze. We were like curious, listening -neighbors who hear the people next door quarrel -and fight. The Germans opposite us remained -silent also, and listened, like ourselves.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>Battle of Champagne! It had not yet a -name. It held all the hope of France, a single, -united, colossal <span class="smcap">Will</span>. For five days France -could only listen to the panting of an army in -travail, and held her breath.</p> - -<p>The 25th of September, at 9.15 in the morning, -the first line left the trenches; bounded -forward, hurled themselves on the enemy. -Another line followed, and another, and another. -Less than an hour later, everywhere, -even well back at the rear, messages of victory -came. The telephone passed on the joyful -news, distributed it to the end of its lines. In -our ranks, where we awaited our turn with -arms at rest, we breathed with high-swelling -hope. We defied the enemy, that day. We -looked at his lines, marked his location. To-morrow, -perhaps, we would be where he was -to-day. We would command his crushed-in -shelter, his hiding-places opened by the shells; -we would be the victors, and he would be driven -before us. Oh, yes, we were quite sure. Already, -with pricked-up ears, we could perceive -the advance. Our cannon pierced his lines. -It roared elsewhere than was usual; already, -opposite us, the German had turned.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>And yet—no! The accursed race has the -tricks of a cowardly beast. To the chivalrous -courage which offers itself for an open test of -prowess, the Boche opposes stealthy ambush, -burrowing in the ground. For the noble <i>élan</i> -of our men, for their impetuous passion, for -their valor, the Teutonic sneak sets a snare: -close to the ground, about a foot high or less, -a fine copper-wire was concealed in the grass, -and electrified. Our heroes were ensnared in -that web. In vain their assaults were renewed. -In vain they accomplished a hundred exploits. -Close to the earth the traitorous wire caught -their ankles, sent the electric shock through -their legs, threw them down and burned them.</p> - -<p>But we—we were still ignorant of all this, -and we awaited our turn. In the falling night -we saw the neighboring sky light up. The -enemy’s fear was read in the number of his -rockets. He was afraid of our sortie, of our -onslaught and the outcome.</p> - -<p>Ah! Those hours! Those days, those four -days of superhuman effort! In what a fever -we passed them! At any moment we could -become participants, and yet we remained -there, inert, champing our bits. We talked,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -that we might shake off our impatience; that -we might hear words, though their import -went unnoticed. We talked without knowing -what we said, merely to hear ourselves say -something. We waited for our cue: nothing -came! Near us our comrades were fighting -in a veritable furnace; they were living the -apotheosis of supreme minutes, living the glory -of combat, amidst an uproar of shells: in suffering -of the flesh and in the beauty of sublime -Adventure. We envied them. We mounted -to the extreme edge of the embankments, to -the parapets of the trenches, that we might -see farther and follow more closely the movement -of the drama; that we might breathe -the odor of battle and grasp its splendor. We -looked at the fire-reddened sky, where a hundred -lightnings flashed and a hundred thunders -rolled. We desired, with all our souls, to enter -the strife, and at last force back the intrenched -enemy—intrenched in our land, in our soil.</p> - -<p>Since then many a battle has been fought. -We have had Verdun, we have had the Somme, -we have had the Aisne, we have had almost -each day a unique page of history. Most certainly; -but it was at this time that we learned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -our lesson. We learned that patience is the -weapon <i>par excellence</i> in a war such as this; -whereas, at that time we still conserved intact -the old faith in French ardor. It was the first -shock following the Marne, after the defense -of the Yser. It was the first hope of breaking -through. We were near it, so near we could -almost touch it, but we did not attain it. We -were ready for death itself, but the sacrifice -was unavailing. The sacks loaded for the -forward march, the filled cartridge-cases, -weighed heavily and more heavily when we -knew that the line remained where it had been, -that the breach was not sufficient, that an -insignificant wire had stopped our onslaught -and protected the German.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, the results were worth the -effort. We counted our prisoners by hundreds, -we gathered from them much information. -Yes; but the gain was as nothing, so great had -been our hopes. We were bound to accept -another hibernation, dig in the earth again, -dig oftener and longer; look forward to a war -of greater duration, more murderous; recommence -the effort, accept not months, but years.</p> - -<p>The war ceased to be a human struggle. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -mass of material became appalling. It was -no longer a shock of arms, but an industrial -clash: the machine substituted for the valor -of a man, the contrivance become demoniac. -Cannon were made in enormous calibers. Old -pieces were replaced by huge-throated monsters, -and one guessed that the wily German, girt -for supreme effort, was preparing something -more, which would make the early part of the -war seem like child’s play.</p> - -<p>This is why the present war is impossible -of narration. It is no longer a battle of a certain -date. It is not, as in former times, a moment -in history, the clash of two wills, the -shock of two armed bodies of men. It is a -period in a century. It involves, not two -peoples, but the world. It is not a turning-point, -but a transformation. It is almost a -state of society: “C’est la guerre.”</p> - -<p>Later, in an unforeseen epoch, in the year -——, it will be taught the children as two dates: -the war began August 2, 1914; it ended ——. -All the tragedy, all our cries, our furies, our -agonies, our suffering and death—all this, -without name, blurred and indistinct, will be -contained between two numbers, and will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span> -mark two eons: that before the War, that after -the War. We will have fought and we will -have wept; our bodies will have been broken -and our hearts will have bled, without our -being able to say, “It happened as I have -told it,” for we will not know just how it happened. -We will be obliged to call to mind -the first day when grenades were used; the -day torpedoes came to light; the advent of the -four-hundreds. Facts will be mixed in our -troubled memories. We will no longer recall -all that happened to us. To be more explicit, -to create a truer picture, we will say:</p> - -<p>“At the Marne, we used rifles.”</p> - -<p>“In Champagne, we threw bombs.”</p> - -<p>“At Verdun—such cannon!”</p> - -<p>“On the Somme the shells flew so thick they -met in mid-air.”</p> - -<p>“And then—and then, America came!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">X<br /> - - -<small>VERDUN</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THOSE who have not been actively -engaged in the war cannot form any -conception of it. When they hear a -combatant speak of it, they say:</p> - -<p>“Then you fight all the time?” “No.” -Whereupon they think: “Then in the firing-line -one is not really in much danger.”</p> - -<p>Ah, not so fast, good people! In this war, -this new, present-day war, the vigilance is -continuous, the hand-to-hand struggle is not. -Shells fall unceasingly, but the open battle, -the assault, is not without interruption. Fortunately.</p> - -<p>Thus it was that after the German check, -after the Crown of Nancy had withstood the -foe’s attack, since the Marne in fact, the sector -at Verdun remained quiet.</p> - -<p>It was a particularly good point. Here and -there a sprinkle of shells, then nothing more.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -There was fighting everywhere else, in Flanders, -in Artois, in Champagne, even in the Woëvre -district, but not at Verdun. The sector was so -calm, that the only guard left there consisted of -Territorials, mostly older men. They worked -without too much effort, these fathers of families; -without much disturbance, doing general -work of repairs about the fortifications, pipe in -mouth, almost at peace in the midst of war. -In the winter of 1915 they shivered a little -with the cold; but the forest was near by, -wood was abundant, and the cold caused no -great suffering. In the evening, down in the -deep trenches, in the well-heated huts, or in the -powerful forts, such as Douaumont, Vaux, Vachereauville, -they basked in the heat as on a -sunny day. They looked at the falling snow -and the landscape sleeping under its white blanket. -They swept the snow with branches of -trees, blew on their fingers a little, accepted -their slight discomfort in patience.</p> - -<p>December passed, unusually cold; then -January came, bringing the new year. One -more year gone, one less to come! Soon the -beautiful days would come, the spring, and—who -knows?—perhaps peace. Germany was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -tired of it all, near the end of her resources, -and would give in. Every one had his own -definite idea on the subject. According to -one, peace would come before the end of June. -Another thought the war would last well toward -the end of July. No one imagined that the -following winter——</p> - -<p>February entered. At the listening-posts -one received a surprise: one noticed signs of -life and activity among the enemy.</p> - -<p>“They are unloading iron.”</p> - -<p>“They are doing a lot of talking.”</p> - -<p>Bah! The Boches were putting their affairs -in order. For more than a year the opposing -lines had been looking at each other -without any great exchange of blows. They -felt quite well acquainted. The fellows opposite -were taking good care of their own bones. -Some said they were only the Landsturm, who -were hibernating over there.</p> - -<p>In the town of Verdun the usual life continued. -The cafés were so crowded they turned -people away; concerts and theatres were in -full swing; everywhere there was great animation, -on account of the presence of troops in -increased numbers. One could not find a vacant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> -room to rent, and the price of provisions soared. -All the towns and even villages, where so many -troops were spending their money, were infected -with this fever of success, of easy money, -of the riches which rolled in. Verdun was no -exception to the rule. The citadel was choked -with troops: officers and privates, drinking -and laughing. To be sure, when the war goes -well, there is no need to be austere.</p> - -<p>February reserved its own surprise. The -short month, which amounts to nothing at all, -so short that it seems crippled, this one-armed -month, displayed in this particular year the -malice of a dwarf.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the German line burst into flame. -It was like a spark on a train of powder. Twelve -hundred cannon, perhaps more, crashed in -chorus.</p> - -<p>“<i>Alerte!</i> To arms!”</p> - -<p>Ah! Yes! Ground, hacked, mutilated, -overrun, those easy-going papas, the Territorials, -fought the best they could; but the -Argonne was the accomplice of the Boche. -The drive became irresistible. With the shell-power -of this massed artillery, the lines were -broken and obliterated. Under the storm of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -shells the trenches were levelled. It was not -an artillery battle, nor merely a violent attack. -It was rather an avalanche of explosives. -The molten torrent, crackling with sparks, -fantastic, inhuman, swept all before it. All -the massed Krupp guns in diabolic fury spat -their clots of flaming blood. The torn, disembowelled -earth leaped into the air and fell -in dust. A bitter smoke filled the air, dense -on the plain and dense on the mountain summit. -Douaumont became a forge, Vaux was a fiery -cyclone. Thavannes was a scarlet glow, le -Mort Homme was a continuous roar, and Verdun -heard the approaching thunder in apprehensive -dread.</p> - -<p>At the call for reinforcements the regiments -came in all haste, to bare their breasts to the -cannon. Fiercely the units clung to their -ground, placed their batteries, intrenched themselves, -and offered stubborn resistance. The -enemy still advanced. The adversary was -not an army division but all Germany, with -the dynasty, the Crown Prince, the old Haseleer -at their head. The defenders were again -faced by the terrible order, “Conquer or die,” -as on the Marne and the Yser. Once more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -that game was played. Once more it had -the upper hand. Destiny, impassive, looked -on.</p> - -<p>Three kilometres of retreat brought the -French to the Côte de Poivre.</p> - -<p>The Boche had orders to take, at all costs, -the “strongest citadel of France.” That success -would mean the death of our country. It -meant all France exposed to the foe, Paris -captured, Defeat. It meant Crime triumphant, -history violated, supremacy of brutal might, -humanity’s bonds reforged. It meant the -flower of the Revolution crushed and Liberty -in chains. It meant the Kaiser’s boot on the -neck of the world.</p> - -<p>“Do you wish aid?” came the message from -England, already preparing to send succor. -France responded proudly: “No! I can hold -my ground.”</p> - -<p>And she held it. The world knows it.</p> - -<p>An innumerable host, coated in dirty gray -like a repulsive animal, rushed on in its heavy, -obstinate bravery; as an infuriated bull with -lowered head madly charges his foe, so the -German brute in his blind rage hurled himself -toward us. In the path of the Hunnish Horde<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -stood French valor. <span class="smcap">They Shall Not Pass!</span> -Nor did they. But—what a struggle!</p> - -<p>All the slopes which form the heights of the -Meuse and are the ramparts of Gaul, resounded -as a monster forge. There Vulcan had set up -his furnaces. Such a battle is too great to be -recounted. It is the story of Thavannes, whose -immense tunnel of approach sheltered a whole -battalion at a time. It is the story of the fall -of Douaumont; then the siege of indomitable -Vaux, dauntless, resisting, panting, quivering -like a drum. There the shells fall at the rate -of ten per minute. Raynal is commanding -there: that is enough. Ten times the German -hurled his force against the fortifications, and -ten times he fell back, baffled. The garrison -stood its ground in a furnace of the damned. -New men entered by a breach, followed a narrow -path, found the postern gate, and leaped in. -For every man who came, came a shell. Overhead -twenty airplanes circled about, directing -the fire, like vultures above the eagle’s nest; -while the cannon on the surrounding heights -converged their fire.</p> - -<p>Vaux! Heroic name, name never to be -forgotten! Vaux, a rock burned by acids, by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -powder, by the fires of hell. Vaux held out -five days, six days—eight days! The sky at -night was a hot glow. The earth was one continuous -roar of explosions, enveloped in billows -of smoke. In that inferno men fought unto -death. Trenches, shelters, stone, and earthworks -were wiped away by the shells; the -battle left the protection of the ground and -swung into free space.</p> - -<p>The regiments were brought from the rear. -They were supplied with food and ammunition -by a whole army of camions, which looked -like an immense serpent twisting along the -road. Beyond Verdun the men entered directly -into the furnace. Their units melted -in the very act of going to the relief of their -comrades at the firing-line. No matter! They -advanced, leaping from one shell-hole to another, -up to the lines where the survivors of -the preceding regiments still held the assailant -at a distance. They were one man against -ten. Of a hundred who set out, only fifty arrived. -They felt the reassurance given by the -strength of Vaux. Vaux hammered by blows—but -Vaux still living, still French, withstanding -the tempest and defying the German. One -felt there the heart of steel in the fortress of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -rock. In addition to the battle all about -was the spectacle of a mass of masonry holding -an army in check.</p> - -<p>Vaux fell. Only thirst ended its resistance. -The enemy, stupefied to count the handful -of heroes who had thus held them at bay, rendered -the captives the highest honors. The -Commandant Raynal kept his sword; the -Crown Prince, in humility before such glory, -was glad to pay him homage, and asked to -be presented.</p> - -<p>Vaux fell, but Verdun was not taken. There -huge shells fell unceasingly. The German -loves the easy targets: a cluster of houses, a -town, is an object hard to miss. In the town, -then, the storm swept the streets. Entire -quarters went down in dust. Like Rheims, -like Soissons, like Ypres, like Liége, Verdun -was the victim of the Huns. People took refuge -in the citadel, in its enormous subterranean -chambers of massive masonry. There, where -the stone corridors were damp as cellars, night -and day both soldiers and civilians found shelter. -There young mothers nursed their babes, there -people of all conditions lived as best they could; -there, underground, helter-skelter, all piled -together. They could hear the shells of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -Hun falling on the city, the houses crumbling, -the wounded shrieking.</p> - -<p>All France and all the world had their eyes -on Verdun the inviolable; on Verdun surrounded -by flames, in the vortex of action; -on Verdun, which did not weaken. Without -respite, the Teutonic masses were hurled to -the assault. Like a sea of mud they poured -upon the outposts of the city. They were -beaten down by grenades, shells, machine-guns, -fire, shot, and powder; and They did -not pass!</p> - -<p>All about were scenes most thrilling. It -would be impossible to recount them all. We -must choose only one or two.</p> - -<p>One day, then, of date unrecorded (Verdun -held out eight months!), a troop going up to -the fortress of Thavannes found the railway -below and followed it. They came to the tunnel -and entered, although it was already much -encumbered. In vain did the gendarme on -guard try to oppose their passage: the newcomers -were too many. They numbered about -six hundred. Above them the battle raged. -They were intending to stop for breath, then -go on up the slope and take their posts, where -Death awaited them.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>No! They will never go so far. They seek -a reprieve for an instant in the tunnel, but -Death comes to meet them. In the long black -cavern are piles of ammunition in transit. -There are soldiers, and wounded men, and -mules, and general confusion. Some one, man -or beast (no one knows which), hits a case of -explosives. In the dark tube there is a flash, -an uproar, a cloud of smoke: four hundred -bodies lie mangled and scorched, as when the -fire-damp explodes in the depth of a mine. -The living make their way out as best they -can, leaving the dead and wounded. The -two hundred who escape reform their line, -mount the hill, enter the real furnace: this -other episode did not count. It was an extra, -for good measure. The accident could not -prevent the fulfilment of the task before them. -What were left of the battalion went where -their order sent them. Four hundred fell on -the way. Too bad. Orders are orders: they -are carried out by the remnant....</p> - -<p>This is only one instance in a thousand.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We all had a great curiosity to see the famous -precincts where the strife raged so violently. -It was almost with joy, therefore, that we received<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -our call. The day the order arrived -the news ran quickly through the ranks: “We -are going over there, boys!” “Over there” -meant Verdun. That was understood. We -hastened to get ready; we arranged knapsacks; -put our affairs in order. The vans were loaded, -the horses hitched. In the canteens we drank -to Victory, to the Return, to Good Luck. Eyes -glistened behind the smoke of pipes, and we -jostled and laughed. Even those who feared -the terrible adventure and dreaded death -concealed their uneasiness and cloaked it with -smiles. On the other hand, many danced for -joy, happy to have a part in the fight, to be -in full action.</p> - -<p>All together, pell-mell, happy and unhappy, -we were punctually on the spot appointed for -the automobiles to receive us when evening arrived. -The entire convoy waited behind a -hill. The drivers, muffled up in pelts, chatted -while waiting for us. They looked fantastic -in the dim light. Only two or three lanterns -winked and blinked in the night. One was -dimly aware of a file of conveyances lined up -along the edge of the road, like great beasts -asleep; the going to and fro of the officers of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -the convoy, and their colloquy with the colonel. -It was all more felt than seen. One could distinguish -only shadows; one heard the tramp -of men, the dull murmur of low-voiced talking, -sometimes an exclamation or a stifled oath.</p> - -<p>Then orders were transmitted by cyclists. -The first battalion set out. Hurriedly each -section climbed into the autos. These ought -to have carried twenty men each, but twenty-five -and even thirty were piled in, somehow, -with their arms, their luggage, their knapsacks, -their side-bags, their canteens. As -soon as a company was loaded in the captain -gave the order to go. One by one the cars -fell into line. The motors coughed and plunged -forward like a dog unleashed. Then ten more -machines received a new company, and departed -in their turn. They also were swallowed -up by the night.</p> - -<p>When my turn came, by some chance I was -assigned to an auto with the officers, where -we were much less crowded than in the large -vehicles of the privates. I therefore expected -to gain some further information concerning -our destination. In this I was disappointed, -as the officers knew very little about it; besides,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -from the time the motor started and -the auto was on its way no further conversation -was possible. We could not hear each -other, even when nearly shouting, and we -had enough to do in resisting the bumps which -threw us against each other. We inhaled the -dust: a thick, heavy dust, raised by the wheels. -It soon covered us completely. One could -feel it coating his face, and small grains of -sand rolled between one’s fingers. We could -not see, for the curtains were drawn down -tightly, and it was very dark. We travelled -as in an interminable tunnel, with no light -whatever, with no knowledge of what we were -passing or of the country we were traversing. -Sometimes there were sudden stops. The -quickly set brakes brought us to a standstill -with a jerk. We asked the driver: “What is -the matter? Where are we?” He scarcely -answered, for he knew no more than we. His -order was to follow the auto in front of him, -and to keep his machine twenty metres behind, -that he might avoid a collision in case of a too-sudden -stop. He followed his orders, and knew -nothing more. He did not even know the road -we were travelling. The car which led the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -procession carried the chief officer of the convoy. -Probably he was the only man besides -our colonel who knew our destination.</p> - -<p>Thus we journeyed four hours before dawn. -As the pale light invaded our rolling apartment -little by little, we saw how completely -we were covered with dust. We were white -from head to feet, like a miller dredged in his -flour. Our clothing was white, our hair, our -faces, our arms. We appeared grotesquely -like veritable old men. We looked each other -over and laughed. Then, as there was nothing -more to fear from the dust, a lieutenant raised -a curtain. We found ourselves on a winding -road in a charming, gently-rolling country. -Small trees formed tiny groves on the hillsides, -and the whole landscape was quite different -from that we had just left.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the captain made a gesture. He -had perceived an airplane, soaring directly -over us in a most disquieting manner. It was -flying too high for us to distinguish, even with -glasses, whether it was French or German; -but its manœuvres were suspicious. It had -command of the road, and seemed to be preparing -to fire on the convoy. In fact, that was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> -exactly what happened, a few minutes later, -when the flyer suddenly came lower and opened -fire with his mitrailleuse. The automobiles -increased their speed and lengthened the distance -from one to another. Nevertheless, the -aviator could move much faster than could we, -and he circled above us like a vulture over his -prey. Fortunately, he had no bombs, and his -aim was too uncertain to inflict much damage. -As it was, he wounded several men, and would -have wounded many more if the special guns -for the purpose had not opened fire on him, -or if three French planes had not appeared on -the horizon. At sight of them he made a hasty -escape, amid our shouts and jeers. Our -wounded were rapidly cared for by a surgeon, -and shortly after were placed in the first field-hospital -encountered on the road, amid the -ruins of a village. This village gave us the -first knowledge of our whereabouts. We were -entering the valley of the Woëvre, and Verdun -lay beyond the hills. The roll of the cannon -had become audible.</p> - -<p>After a short halt we set out again. This -time we entered the field of action. It was -evidenced by the constantly increasing number<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -of convoys encountered. Long lines of camions -were climbing toward the battle, loaded with -munitions or food; or, like our own, with men. -The road became very wide, encroaching some -distance into the fields. Some soldiers, in the -stream of conveyances, threw pebbles under -our wheels without as much as lifting their -eyes to look at us: they had seen so much already -that the spectacle of troops going under -fire interested them not at all.</p> - -<p>With our advance the scene changed rapidly. -We saw some autos overturned in a ditch -and burning. Some dead horses stretched their -rigid legs in the air. Under some tents men -bustled about with stretchers, instruments, -and boxes. These were the temporary dressing-stations, -where the men wounded on the route -were cared for: any who had met with accidents -from vehicles, as well as those who had -been hit by shell-splinters—for we had entered -the zone of projectiles, and stray splinters -reached even that far. The scene became indescribable. -It was a mob, where one felt -nevertheless a discipline, a sense of regulated, -methodical order. We were in the side-wings -of the battle, in the midst of its movable stage-settings,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -among the stage-hands, machinists, -electricians, and supernumeraries, whose activities -are unseen by the public, but who make -it possible for the performance to go on and -be brilliant. Long trains of horse-drawn caissons -followed each other at full speed. Field-ambulances, -marked with large red crosses, -slipped into the moving stream. Vehicles of -every sort, gray with dust or mud-bespattered, -rumbled, creaked, rolled along, stopped, started, -stuck in the ruts, freed themselves. The moving -line looked like the folds of a fabulous serpent.</p> - -<p>The voice of the cannon increased in power -and volume. It was like hearing an orchestra -of inferno. The ear received only a tremendous, -continuous roar, like the rolling of thunder -which never ceases.</p> - -<p>We could see the earth tossed high like a -geyser when a shell struck. We breathed the -pungent odor of the battle. We were getting -into it now. Most of the houses were demolished. -The buildings still standing all -bore the marks of war, with great ragged holes -in walls and roof, with stains of powder and -fire. Enough of them remained in close rows<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> -to indicate the streets leading into the town. -We crossed the Meuse and found ourselves -in the city. It appeared deserted. We looked -curiously up and down the streets, without -finding any sign of life whatever, except an -occasional hurrying soldier, a cyclist, or an -automobile racing at full speed between the -silent houses. We made some détours, crossed -squares, and skirted gardens. The whole city -lay open to our view; and above the roofs -the massive silhouette of the citadel spread -its protecting wings.</p> - -<p>The locking of wheels gave us a jolt: we -had arrived. Glad to tread the ground once -more, we leaped down and entered an abandoned -factory, where we were to camp. The -windows had long since lost their glass, but -the roof remained. It was a fragile protection -against shells, but quite adequate against wind -and rain. Along the walls was stacked dirty -straw, broken to crumbs by the many sleeping -troops. That was our bed. It would be for -many their last sleep before the sleep of death, -for the orders came immediately: we would -mount to the first lines at nightfall.</p> - -<p>The march into the battle was at first simple.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> -We advanced in the descending shadows, we -left the town behind. Before us the heavens -were streaked with the light of explosives. We -marched by sections, in silence. We marched -straight ahead, with heart beating quickly, -mouth dry, brain a blank. In spite of myself, -I set my teeth and gripped my hands. We -could not distinguish the road we trod, but -were dimly aware sometimes of trees stripped -bare, of low ruins, of puddles of water, of general -débris. We simply followed the man in -front, scarcely turning the head when a flock -of shells fell at the right, or left, or ahead. We -only knew we were in the zone where they -fell. We heard the hoarse shriek of the projectiles -high in the air, and the chorus of cannon -re-echoed in each breast. We no longer felt -the chill of the night air. We knew not if we -breathed. The farther we went, the more -difficult did the walking become. We stumbled -over the uneven ground, ploughed up by the -shells; but we were not yet in the place of -torment, and the missiles spared us. We passed -many moving shadows: couriers, orderlies, -estafettes, officers, wounded, we knew not -what. They were only dark objects moving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> -about in the night, outlined by the glow of -the projectiles; instantly swallowed again by -the shadows and giving place to others. We -knew nothing about them. We knew only -one great fact: that we were always advancing -toward the fire; we were approaching the first -lines, where the conflagration raged at white -heat.</p> - -<p>Then—we were in the midst of the shells. -The frenzy was on. The wounded cried out. -We held together the best we could. We -entered chaos. Whirlwinds of explosives enveloped -us. They were above, around, beneath. -The very earth leaped up and lashed -our faces and hands. Violent gusts of hot -wind shook us. We ran. We joined some -other comrades. We could not proceed in -lines, but moved in groups. There were no -longer any usable trenches. They were torn -open, crushed in, filled up, making any advance -in them impossible. Therefore we -marched in the open, and we advanced. We -would leap into a shell-crater, catch our breath -for a second, look out for another hole, and -hurl ourselves into it as quickly as possible. -The rain of steel enveloped everything, in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> -tumult unbelievable. We scarcely knew if -we lived; we certainly thought no more about -death. The fixed, absolute, imperious idea, -the only surviving thing in our consciousness, -was to arrive at our destination, where we -could give our service. We felt that we were -near the spot and must attain it.</p> - -<p>We often lost our way. The officers looked -for the road, asked the direction, shouted orders. -We understood as best we could. We ran at -full speed, threw ourselves flat on the ground, -sprang up and ran again. We knew only one -thing: we <i>must</i> succeed in reaching our appointed -post, we must reach the firing-line: -we could not stop, we could not rest, until -we found the location of the regiment we were -sent to relieve.</p> - -<p>For three hours we plunged across the jagged -fields. The ground rose and fell and rose again. -Sometimes, behind a pile of earth, we found -some men. We shouted some questions. They -knew nothing to tell us, as they were not of -the regiment which we sought. They were out -of breath, like ourselves; or they were wounded, -or they had just been relieved, or they had -just arrived and were themselves seeking their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -post, or they were hopelessly lost and joined -in with us. If they were officers, they questioned -us:</p> - -<p>“What regiment?” “Where are you going?” -“What division?” “What army?” -“Have you seen such and such a regiment?” -“No.” “Yes, at the right.” “Over at the -left.” “Make room there!”</p> - -<p>Some ambulances charged past. We saw -some first-aid stations in full operation, with -wounded shrieking all about. Some couriers, -out of breath, shouted instructions: “Go -straight on. Your regiment is two hundred -metres from here, near the canal.”</p> - -<p>Finally we arrived, under such a hail of -bullets, machine fire, and shrapnel that we -were not even conscious of danger. We found -some men, half buried in holes, who went away -and left us. They melted into the night.</p> - -<p>We had reached our post on the firing-line, -in an unknown plain, which seemed to be -flooded with dead bodies, as a fallow field is a -riot of corn-flowers and nettles. We had no -idea how we had succeeded in reaching the spot.</p> - -<p>There was nothing more to do but fight and -in our turn, wait for the Relief, or for Death.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XI<br /> - - -<small>THE TOUCH OF DEATH</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">I   HAVE no intention, in writing this work, -to describe the entire war. It would be -an impossible task, and I do not suppose -that any author who is a contemporary of the -immense tragedy would have the presumption -to attempt it. To undertake such a task with -success, it would be necessary to wait until -many years had effaced the secondary details, -leaving in the foreground only the principal -facts. Then, too, each person sees the war in -his own way, from his own point of view, and -can relate neither the ensemble nor the particular -detail after the same fashion as his neighbor. -It is all a question of individuality in -handling such a subject. That which one is -able to tell is merely a résumé of certain brief -instants lived in the furnace; in long waits, -which are told by a few words, but which lasted -for months. We must, then, leave to the future<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -historians the literary task of enclosing in a -single book the story of the events which have -upset and transformed the world; as Homer’s -Iliad in its brief pages narrates the War of -Troy, which lasted ten years. All that the -writer of the present day may depict are separate -minutes of the time in which we lived, -and the sensations of a man who is only one -of the hundred millions of combatants. Therefore -I cannot add much to what I have told -concerning Verdun.</p> - -<p>We remained there four days. So short a -time! and yet in this brief space a regiment -melted away as the iron melts in the crucible. -Four days under fire, and two battalions disappeared. -When our relief came, scarcely one-third -of our number survived; and of that -third not one could tell clearly just what had -passed. We had lived, though we knew not -how, under the rain of steel, of flames, of flying -earth, of splintering shells, of breaking stones; -knocked about, thrown to the earth, rising -only to fall again; eating little, drinking less; -without sleep, without rest, battered and torn, -but still clinging to our post.</p> - -<p>Automobiles had brought us, automobiles<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -took us away. We were gray with dust when -we came; we went away looking like blocks -of earth. Nothing about our uniforms was -recognizable. Mud and clay blotched our -faces and hands, matted our hair and beards, -stiffened our shirts, weighed down our clothing. -We had all grown old. Our eyes were sunken, -our features drawn, our lassitude was extreme. -Nevertheless, we almost ran when permitted -to go away. We knew that the danger pursued -us, and we mustered enough energy to -escape. Again we ascended the hills, descended -the slopes; again we saw the same spectacles -we had seen in coming. It was our turn to -cry to the arriving troops: “Count your bones, -boys, it is getting hot!”</p> - -<p>Yes, it was getting hot! The surging flood -of Germans beat upon the French fortress -like sea-breakers upon a rocky coast. The -uproar increased. It seemed that the utmost -limits of the possible must be reached, but -each day those limits receded. Each day more -cannon crashed; each day the explosions were -faster and more furious; each day the storm -augmented. One made his escape as from a -horrible nightmare. Our ears hummed. Our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -nerves, strained to the breaking-point, vibrated -and quivered like the strings of a violin. We -could have dropped in our tracks from suffering -and weakness.</p> - -<p>However, an immense pride sustained our -waning physical force. Mud-bespattered, thin, -repulsive, we resummoned our stamina when -we heard a command, at the edge of a ruined -village; a general was looking at us. Instantly, -backs straightened, heads lifted; bayonets -were fixed on gun-barrels. Our troop, panting -with exhaustion, but proud, impeccable, filed -past that man, our chief, whose clear eyes were -fixed upon us. We understood each other. -Without words, without speech, our faces told -him, “We have given our lives; ‘They’ have -not passed!” and, without a word, his look responded: -“I know it.”</p> - -<p>We had our reward. Somehow our physical -pains disappeared. Our effort, our sacrifices, -our fears, our wounds, had been of service; -the baffled enemy was stumbling without progressing, -was crumbling away. Verdun held, -and behind her protecting arm France still -lived.</p> - -<p>Just the same, the time had come to seek<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -the automobiles. We could not hold control -of ourselves except when on our feet. The -instant we stopped moving about, the instant -we were seated, or reclining, no matter in what -position we relaxed for a single second, we were -asleep. Neither jolts, nor knocks, nor sudden -stops interrupted our giant sleep. We slept -without a remnant of physical sensation. We -slept violently, as heavy and inert as dead -men. We slept with all our body, all our heart -and soul; fists clinched, mouths open; shaken -about, wholly unconscious, carried away less -like men than like parcels of cloth, earth, flesh, -and accoutrement. We no longer had names -or personality. We were nothing but clods, -utterly at the end of our vitality.</p> - -<p>Thus we crossed the country, passing bivouacs -where troops were encamped, roads where -convoys were mounting toward the battle-line, -forests where cavalry were awaiting their -call. The noise of the cannon diminished to -a distant rumble, became faint, and was lost. -We slept on. Occasionally, a man stretched -himself, changed position, and plunged again -into oblivion like the rest. Some, in their -dreams, cried out disconnected words, mumbled,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -or wept. A madman in my carriage suddenly -leaped out and plunged into the blackness -of the night. He was not missed until -the next day. Three camions had passed -over him, leaving him nothing but a mangled -rag on the road.</p> - -<p>At last we reached our destination, and -came to life again. A camp was ready to receive -us—a camp so new and fresh we thought -it almost elegant. There were Adrian barracks<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> -of unpainted spruce, with water for -drinking and water for washing; with coffee -prepared, fresh bread, hot soup, and abundance -of clean straw. We knew that the horrible -inferno was at an end for us; at evening -a train would take us each to his own family -to enjoy a furlough.</p> - -<p>To come out of the abyss of hell and arrive -at his own hearthside is an emotion too deep -for a mortal man. He knows not if he is living -in reality or in a dream. He goes on mechanically. -He is hairy, barbarous, dirty, hideous. -He is black, and torn, and bruised, and ragged. -He reeks of powder, blood, and earth. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -trembles. He is conscious of a sensation of -joy—he feels it without comprehending it.</p> - -<p>Before long the train will be in the station. -His wife will be there with his mother, his -father, and others who are dear. They will -take him in their arms. They will hold him, -they will press him to their hearts. He will -feel the sweet thrill of their touch; he will -receive their caresses, will hear the familiar -voices. His heart beats fast. A feeling of -faintness sweeps over him; he puts his hand -before his eyes. He speaks to his neighbor. -He laughs. He drinks a little, he smokes. He -suddenly feels smothered. It must be his great-coat -which bothers him; he pulls it off. He -holds imaginary conversations with himself. -He gesticulates. He recounts what he has -seen, what he has done, what he has said; the -death of his comrades, the frightful wounds of -his dearest friends. He strives to classify his -recollections; he yawns, he gives it up. The -battle still crowds his brain, obsesses him, holds -him, fills his entire consciousness. The other -men are like himself. Some laugh, some sing, -some sleep.</p> - -<p>The special train rolls away—passes stations,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -traverses pleasant country, arrives at towns, -whistles, snorts, runs smoothly, flies over the -rails, carries him on and on. The man is dumb -with amazement: a field where reapers are -binding the grain enchants him; a glimpse of -a garden where a woman is hanging up washing -moves him to tenderness. A house intact -astonishes him. The panorama passes before -his window, is gone, is repeated. It is not yet -the country, the province, where he was born, -but that is approaching. Familiar names are -seen at the stopping-places along the track. -In an hour the train will reach his station. -He can no longer sit still. He rises, fusses -with his clothing, sits down, gets up again. -The train no longer is going fast enough. It -is stopping. What for? Now it goes again. -Good. There it is stopping again! This is -deadly. Villainous train! Villainous trip! -Villainous life!</p> - -<p>At last it is his own country, his own town, -his own station ... and the train is stopping! -Yes, the family are all there, running to meet -him. The man leaves the carriage; he falls -into their arms; he leans on their shoulders. -Tears are on his cheeks; his mind is benumbed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> -he can only look. There is father, there is -mother, there is wife and child.</p> - -<p>“Well, well! How are you?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, all right,”—somewhat abstractedly.</p> - -<p>He pulls himself together, recovers his -strength and composure. He stands erect, -proudly. He is bruised, stained, and dirty; -a dreadful object, at once repulsive and sublime. -He is in the midst of his doting, distracted -family, who forget all the questions -they had planned to ask about himself and -the war, and can only ask: “Are you hungry? -are you thirsty? are you warm?” He does -not know if he is or not. He feels no need of -anything. He goes with them. He recognizes -the land, the road, the trees, and the houses. -He breathes deeply. What delicious air! He -is hurried along. As he passes the neighbors -exclaim:</p> - -<p>“There he is!”</p> - -<p>He is safe and whole, he is brave and noble. -He wears on his breast the Croix de Guerre. -He is petted. He is washed and cleaned and -mended and taken out for a promenade. He -tries to tell his story, but he tells it badly: he -has not the words for it. He knows not how<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span> -to express all the misery endured, the bodily -suffering, the horror of the battle. He tells -little fragments of stories, and already he is -forgetting the most terrible features. The -struggle which was beyond all comprehension -seems small when he tries to recount it. It -becomes nothing more than a local fight with -grenades, a patch of ground occupied in the -night, a brook crossed—a thing of shadow and -of mystery. It is no longer grandiose. It -really was a catastrophe: it becomes a mere -fist fight. However, they listen, they ask questions. -He must repeat and go into detail. -And he, who has escaped the jaws of death, -who by a miracle has come out of the destruction, -who feels with strangeness the new pulses -of life, he runs about to see his friends, he shakes -the burden from his thought, he amuses himself—and -finally is aware that the time has -passed like a flash of lightning and he must -again depart. Then the anguish again lays -hold upon him; for that which he could not -tell clearly he knows only too well. No fibre -of his being has forgotten it. His flesh creeps -at the thought of entering again the bath of -blood, of noise, of war; the long vigils in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> -trench, the whistle of the shells, the infantry -attack.</p> - -<p>He goes to join his regiment. He is loaded -with delicacies, tobacco, and presents. He -has new socks on his feet and a new sweater -on his back. He is made over, he is a man -again. He is sad, but he goes: there is no other -way.</p> - -<p>Once more he is at the front with all its -horrors. He is in a sector of great commotion, -where ruins pile upon ruins; where the very -earth under his feet explodes; where a fresh -drive is being pushed; where no minute is -without its danger. There is the patrol toward -the enemy’s lines, the life underground, the -sky shot with airplanes, the shrapnel overhead -and the mine under feet. There is the -torpedo coming with its ugly growl; there -are all the changing forms in which death -beckons—the Grim Monster which prowls and -shrieks; there is the agony renewed.</p> - -<p>The attack is resumed. The attack, yes. -“C’est la Guerre.” There is no longer, as in -former days, a battle of a single day, wherein -one is either victor or vanquished, where the -outcome is decisive. The attack of to-day is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span> -one of the rôles in the drama of life, like being -a soldier. Yes, it is life itself.</p> - -<p>We made an attack, then, on a certain day, -toward Mont Cornillet, which stood out before -us like a volcano of chalk. The German and -French artillery were crossing their shell-fire. -Below, the French were holding. The position -was hardly tenable after it was gained, -and we were trying to enlarge and strengthen -it a bit. My regiment, entirely reformed and -equipped, formed a part of the advancing force. -Each man, grown wise from his experience in -war, could estimate the distance, and the effect -of the firing. It was going well. It was hard, -but the firing was good. Perhaps we would -suffer less this time than on former occasions. -Perhaps once more we would return alive. -But then, what matter? One is a fatalist in -such moments. Destiny will decide. A man -is nothing, can do nothing. He is a mere atom, -a drop of water in the ocean, a grain of sand in -the desert. He goes where the wind drives him. -If he is lucky, he comes back alive; if he is unlucky, -he returns to the bosom of the earth. It -is all very simple, clear, and clean-cut. The -sacrifice was made long since. Once for all, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> -very first time, he has said: “What will come, -will come.” He has left his home, he has -marched, he has fought, he has suffered. Some -men have been killed, others only await their -turn. Infinite Fatality holds them in her hand. -Those who believe in God, and that God brings -solace, have their comfort always with them. -They piously attend religious service when they -can, wherever the chaplain sets up his altar: -in a crushed-in chapel of a demolished village, -or in a barn without a roof, or in the trench -itself. The man who believes in nothing has -no greater fear of death.</p> - -<p>Certainly, were it not for the war, one would -have lived otherwise. One would have lived -in a world of work, with its pains and pleasures, -founding a family and rearing his children. -One would have lived as lived his father; one -would have had a wife like his mother; one -would have pursued happiness. But this dream -is one of peace. Now, “C’est la Guerre.” The -giant struggle passes the control of men, and -its unknown end is still far off. One no longer -fights merely for his home, his land, his own -well-being. One feels that these things have -become dwarfed in the tremendous world<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> -tragedy, and that at the foundation it has -to do with great principles, ideals, and human -destiny.</p> - -<p>The soldier in action does not see so far. -The immediate, the concrete, demand his close -scrutiny; but he feels that the war is waged -for all the human race, and that his blood will -not flow in vain. Emancipation is coming. -Man is throwing aside autocratic authority; -he has reached his age of majority and wishes -to be free. Society impels and guides him. -He is no longer the soldier of a people, he is -the soldier of a principle. He fights for the -triumph of ideals that are noble, ideals that -are just, ideals that are free. He assists at -the ghastly death-throes of an autocracy which -can live only through his enslavement. He -knows the price of a revolution: some men -must die that others may live. He accepts -it. He knows not just how great must be his -sacrifice. He knows only that he is resigned.</p> - -<p>I saw all this among my comrades. I gathered -it in their discussions: for we talk, at the front. -The squad argues, reads the newspapers, makes -its comments, follows the trend of events when -it can. But—when the “Coup de Chien”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> -comes; when the unit enters an engagement; -when one fills his cartridge-box or receives -his case of grenades; when one goes over the -top, to storm the enemy’s parapets and rush -to the assault, all else disappears, is wiped -out. There remains only exaltation and the -act of the moment—a sacrament.</p> - -<p>The zero hour is passed from one to another -in advance. The attack will be at ten o’clock. -A half-hour before, each man is in his place. -The artillery fire is redoubled. The German -knows that his last minutes have come. As -for ourselves, we are attentive and impatient. -The anguish of the drive puts our nerves on -a tension; eyes take on a hard look, hands -grip convulsively. One wishes he could start, -leap to the surface, cross No Man’s Land on -the run, and drop into the opposite trench. -The half-hour drags on slowly.</p> - -<p>The hour strikes. With one leap, furiously, -the first wave bounds forward, spreads, and -crosses the intervening space. The second -line follows. We of the next line look and -listen. They cry out—they go on—they are -running—they arrive! We start. The others -are already upon the German. The grenades<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> -crackle and snap. The machine-guns spit, -the airplanes hum, the shells burst. Forward, -forward! We run at full speed. Each knows -his rôle. Each knows his act, his allotted piece -of work. Each is strangely lucid. The movement -is admirable. All is going well, everything -is working out with precision. We will -gain our point. With an infallible glance the -soldier knows the outcome, and in that moment -he judges his chief without error, without -appeal.</p> - -<p>The trench is taken. The shelters are -crushed in, the dead are lying all about. Pale -and haggard prisoners run toward us, huddled -together with up-lifted arms to give themselves -up:</p> - -<p>“Gut Franzose! Kamarad! Polones, Polones!”</p> - -<p>They are Poles: big and little, tall and short; -a whole troop. They shrink, now. They would -like to run. They are anxious to get away -from the place, for the miserable creatures -cling to life and fear the shells, their own shells, -the German shells, which follow each other -in gusts. We drive them on. They go as captives. -Three pass, a Frenchman follows, then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> -three more prisoners and another Frenchman, -with gun ready. The procession follows the -wrecked trench, leaps over the débris, reaches -the open space between our lines. Now there -is less danger. The prisoners are parcelled -off by twenties and are led to the rear. They -stop at the first post where wounded are cared -for. The stretchers are taken up and carried -by the same men who made the wounds, by -these men now quite docile, who, dressed in -dirty gray made still more dirty by the ground, -march with their burden, fearful, but at heart -happy: for them the war is over.</p> - -<p>It will continue for their conquerors who -still live. Death has once more made her choice. -The prisoners are safe. Those others who took -them will die perhaps to-morrow, on this same -ground or on another. Satiated to-day, the -Grim Monster is reserving them: they are -kept for a coming feast of death.</p> - -<p>How well they know it! but they care not -at all. They are tired and happy. They wander -about the captured trench and gather up little -nothings: fragments of clothing, pieces of arms, -splinters of cartridges. They go to and fro; -or, impassive, they choose a corner and go to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span> -sleep, indifferent to the shells, to the battle -which is dying out; indifferent to to-day and -to-morrow.</p> - -<p>They know their task is accomplished.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1">FOOTNOTES:</p> -</div> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[A]</a> The trial of Mme. Caillaux for the murder of the editor of -<i>Le Figaro</i>.—<span class="smcap">Translator.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[B]</a> “Les compagnons—ceux avec qui on rompt le pain.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[C]</a> The banquette is about eighteen inches above the pathway -at the bottom of the trench. The men stand here when firing -or when on guard.—<span class="smcap">Translators’ Note.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[D]</a> The trenches were about seven feet deep. On the forward -side was a step, or ledge, on which the men could stand when -shooting.—<span class="smcap">Translators’ Note.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[E]</a> It has been found that water must not touch the skin for -many hours after suffering a gas attack. The chemical action -of the water rots the flesh. For the same reason the “poilu” -is now clean-shaven: the poison of gas remains in a beard for -days, and perspiration adds to the dangers of inhalation.—<span class="smcap">Translator.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[F]</a> Literally, “I am gnawing them away.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[G]</a> Adrian barracks are made in sections, which enables them -to be put up or taken down quickly.—<span class="smcap">Translator’s Note.</span></p> - -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - - - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> -</div></div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE GERMAN SHELLS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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HOLT - - _WITH PORTRAITS_ - - NEW YORK - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - 1918 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - - Published May, 1918 - - [Illustration] - - - - -PREFACE - - -Life is a curious thing. In time of war Life is itself the -extraordinary and Death seems the only ordinary thing possible for men. - -In time of war man is but a straw thrown into the wide ocean. If the -tossing waves do not engulf him he can do no more than float on the -surface. God alone knows his destiny. - -This book, _Under the German Shells_, is another instance of war’s -uncertainties. Sent by my government to America to join the new -American army as instructor, I wrote the greater part of the book on -the steamer which brought me. The reader will, perhaps, read it when I -am dead; for another steamer is about to carry me back to France, where -I shall again be “under the German shells,” before the book will see -the light. - -This is the second work which I have written during the war. The first, -_Gens du Front_, appeared in France while I was in America. I wrote it -in the trenches. The second will appear in America when I shall be in -France. The father will not be present at the birth of either of his -two children. “C’est la Guerre.” - -My only wish is that the work may be of use. I trust it may, for every -word is sincere and true. That it may render the greatest service, I -wish to give you, my reader, a share in my effort: a part of the money -which you pay for the book will be turned over to the French Red Cross -Society, to care for the wounded and assist the widows whom misfortune -has overtaken while I have been writing. Thus you will lighten the -burden of those whom the scourge has stricken. - -I hope that you will find in the work some instruction--you who are -resolutely preparing to defend Justice and Right and to avenge the -insults of the infamous Boche. - -I have no other wishes than these for my work, and that victory may be -with our united arms. - - EMMANUEL BOURCIER. - - CAMP GRANT, December 16, 1917. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE MOBILIZATION 1 - - II. THE INVASION 21 - - III. THE MARNE 50 - - IV. WAITING 93 - - V. LA PIOCHE 101 - - VI. THE GAS 120 - - VII. RHEIMS 134 - - VIII. DISTRACTIONS 148 - - IX. THE BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE 166 - - X. VERDUN 177 - - XI. THE TOUCH OF DEATH 200 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - The author at Camp Grant _Frontispiece_ - - Emmanuel Bourcier at the front in the sector of - Rheims in 1915 _Facing page_ 118 - - - - -Under the German Shells - - - - -I - -THE MOBILIZATION - - -Only those who were actors in the great drama of the mobilization of -July, 1914, in France, can at this time appreciate clearly all its -phases. No picture, however skilful the hand which traces it, can give -in full its tragic grandeur and its impassioned beauty. - -Every man who lived through this momentous hour of history regarded -its development from a point of view peculiar to himself. According -to his situation and environment he experienced sensations which no -other could entirely share. Later there will exist as many accounts, -verbal or written, of this unique event as there were witnesses. From -all these recitals will grow up first the tradition, then the legend. -And so our children will learn a story of which we, to-day, are able -to grasp but little. This will be a narrative embodying the historic -reality, as the Iliad, blending verity and fable, brings down to us the -glowing chronicle of the Trojan War. Nevertheless, one distinct thing -will dominate the ensemble of these diverse accounts; that is, that -the war originated from a German provocation, for no one of Germany’s -adversaries thought of war before the ultimatum to Serbia burst like a -frightful thunderclap. - -At this period there existed in Europe, and perhaps more in France -than elsewhere, a vague feeling that a serious crisis was approaching. -A sense of uneasiness permeated the national activities and weighed -heavily on mind and heart. As the gathering storm charges the air with -electricity and gives a feeling of oppression, so the war, before -breaking forth, alarmed men and created a sensation of fear, vague, yet -terrifying. - -To tell the truth, it had been felt for a long time, even in the lowest -strata of the French people, that Germany was desirous of provoking -war. The Moroccan affair and the incidents in Alsace, especially that -of Saverne, made clear to men of every political complexion the danger -hanging over the heads of all. No one, however, was willing to believe -what proved to be the reality. Each, as far as possible, minimized -the menace, refused to accept its verity, and trusted that some happy -chance would, at the last moment, discover a solution. - -For myself, I must admit this was the case. Although my profession was -one that called me to gather on all subjects points of information -which escaped the ordinary observer, in common with the rest I allowed -my optimism to conceal the danger, and tried always to convince myself -that my new-found happiness need fear no attack. I had “pitched my -tent.” At least, I believed I had. After having circled the globe, -known three continents and breathed under the skies of twenty lands, -my wanderlust was satiated and I tried to assure myself that my life -henceforth was fixed; that nothing should again oblige me to resume the -march or turn my face to adventure. - -Alas! human calculations are of little weight before the imperious -breath of destiny. - -I closed my eyes, as did all my countrymen; but to shut out the storm -was impossible. Mingled in all the currents of public events I felt the -menacing tempest and, helpless, I regarded the mounting thunder-clouds. -All showed the dark path of the future and the resistless menace of -1914. - -I see again the Paris of that day: that fevered Paris, swayed by a -thousand passions, where the mob foresaw the storm, where clamors -sprang up from every quarter of the terrible whirlpool of opinions, -where clashed so many interests and individuals. Ah! that Paris of -July, 1914, that Paris, tumultuous, breathless, seeing the truth but -not acknowledging it; excited by a notorious trial[A] and alarmed by -the assassination of Sarajevo; only half reassured by the absence of -the President of the republic, then travelling in Russia; that Paris on -which fell, blow after blow, so many rumors sensational and conflicting. - -In the street the tension of life was at the breaking-point. In the -home it was scarcely less. Events followed each other with astonishing -rapidity. First came the ultimatum to Serbia. On that day I went to -meet a friend at the office of the newspaper edited by Clemenceau, and -I recall the clairvoyant words of the great statesman: - -“It means war within a month.” - -Words truly prophetic, but to which at that moment I did not attach the -importance they merited. - -War! War in our century! It was unbelievable. It seemed impossible. It -was the general opinion that again, as in so many crises, things would -be arranged. One knew that in so many strained situations diplomacy -and the government had found a solution. Could it be that this time -civilization would fail? - -However, as the days rolled on the anxiety became keener. One still -clung to the hope of a final solution, but one began little by -little to fear the worst. In the Chamber of Deputies the nervousness -increased, and in the corridors the groups discussed only the ominous -portent of the hour. In the newspapers the note of reassurance -alternated with the tone of pessimism. The tempest mounted. - -At night, when the dinner-hour came, I returned to my young wife. I -found her calm as yet, and smiling, but she insistently demanded the -assurance that I would accompany her to the seaside at the beginning of -the vacation. She had never before asked it with such insistence. She -knew that, in spite of my desire, it was impossible for me to be absent -so long a time, and other years she had resigned herself to leaving -with her baby some weeks before I should lay aside my work. Generally -I joined her only a fortnight before her return to Paris. This time -a presentiment tortured her far more than she would admit. She made -me repeat a score of times my promise to rejoin her at the earliest -possible moment. In spite of my vows she could not make up her mind to -go, and postponed from day to day our separation. At last I had almost -to compel her to leave; to conduct her to the train with a display of -gentle authority. She was warned by an instinct stronger than all my -assurances. I did not see her again until thirteen months later. - -Abruptly the storm broke. It came with the suddenness of a thunderclap. -The happenings of this period are a part of history. It is possible, -however, to review them briefly. - -It was announced that the President of the republic, abandoning his -intended visit to the King of Denmark, would return precipitately to -Paris, just as the Kaiser, terminating abruptly his cruise along the -Norwegian coast, had returned to Berlin. - -I went to the station curious to witness this historic return. The -approaches were black with people, and an unusual force of police -protected the entrance. The interior was decorated as usual with -carpets and green plants, but most unusual was the throng there -gathered. One noticed, in addition to the numerous officials, many -notables little accustomed to going out of their way to see affairs -of this sort. I still see clearly the gray-clad figure of M. Edmond -Rostand, the distinguished author of _Cyrano de Bergerac_; the eager -face of M. Maurice Barrès, and many others. - -The presidential train arrived precisely at the announced hour. The -engine, covered with tricolor flags, had scarcely come to a stop amid -clouds of steam, when the parlor-car opened and the President appeared. -He was immediately followed by M. Viviani, at that time president -of the Council of Ministers, who had accompanied M. Poincaré on the -Russian visit. The two advanced to M. Messimy, minister of war, shook -his hand and then those of the other officials. I looked with deepest -interest on these men on whom fate had placed a responsibility so -sudden and so heavy. They appeared calm, but it appeared to me the -countenances of both were pale as if they realized the gravity of the -moment and the weight of their trust. Whatever their feeling, only the -most commonplace words of greeting were uttered, and the group at once -proceeded to the exit. - -Here something out of the ordinary occurred. Though I should live a -hundred years, the scene would remain undimmed before my eyes. In -my memory there is no similarly indelible picture, in spite of the -fact that in the course of my ten years in the army I had witnessed a -considerable number of remarkable spectacles. Even at the funeral of -President Carnot, or that of President Félix Faure, even at the visit -to France of Czar Nicholas II, even at the Congress of Versailles after -the election of President Poincaré or any of the great public events -of our national life, I had not seen anything with so dramatic a note -as the occurrence of this instant. - -Leading the procession, the President came close to the barrier which -restrained the crowd of privileged persons, who had been allowed -to enter the station. Not a sound had been made, when, sudden as a -lightning-flash, the silence was rent by an intense cry from thousands -of throats. It swelled immediately, was taken up by the throng outside, -echoing and reverberating, till it became a tonal torrent, capable, -like the clamors of the Romans, of killing the birds. And this cry was: - -“Vive la France!” - -It was so strong, so powerful, and, in these circumstances, so -poignant, that there was a wavering, a hesitation on the part of all. -Even the horses attached to the carriages, and those of the cavalry -guard, seemed to thrill at its fervor. - -While the carriages filled and the escort, with sabres flashing, took -its place, the same acclamation, the same cry, deep and powerful, -continued to roar, in its fury demonstrating better than any deed the -national will, and expressing it in a manner so intense and precise, -that any Boches in the crowd (and there certainly were many) must -at this moment have felt the abyss opening beneath their feet; that -the horrible adventure into which their Emperor was hurling them was -destined to hasten their fall rather than assure their triumph. - -Through this crashing human concert the escort moved forward. The -crowd, however, was so dense that the carriages were not able to open -a passage, and it was as in a living wave, with men and horses in a -confused mass, that they reached Rue La Fayette, where at last they -were able to disengage the presidential cortège from the still shouting -throng. - -In the crowd left behind, a remarkable patriotic demonstration -spontaneously developed under the leadership of two noted deputies, M. -Galli and Admiral Bienaimé, chanting the “Marseillaise” and acclaiming -France. - -Now let the war come! Unity dated from this instant. - -From this hour the war imposed itself on every one. Each Frenchman -resolutely prepared himself. The Miracle, that wondrous French miracle -which was to stupefy the world and arrest the enemy at the Marne, this -sublime display of strength on the part of a France seized by the -throat, was born, under German provocation, at the Gare du Nord, in -this furious shout, in this cry of passionate love: - -“Vive la France!” - -From that evening each family felt itself warned, each man felt his -heart grow stronger, and each woman lived in shuddering anticipation. - -Throughout the land there gushed forth a will to battle, an admirable -spirit of resolution and sacrifice, on which the enemy had not counted, -that he had not foreseen, and which all his power could not conquer. -France, insulted, provoked, assailed, stood erect to her foes. - -This period was brief. People followed in the papers the energetic move -for peace undertaken by France and England, but the day of wavering -was past. War, with all its consequences, was accepted. The national -sentiment was unanimous, and the mobilization found the public ready in -spite of the shocks inseparable from such an event. - -The most serious of these which I recall, was the assassination of -Jaurès, the great Socialist leader, in Rue Montmartre. Although several -of the newspapers, and particularly the Italian press, printed that I -was in the party of the great tribune when he was killed, the statement -was inexact. I learned of the assassination shortly after it occurred, -and with several of my associates hurried to the scene. The moment was -tragic and the tense state of public feeling caused an immense throng -to swarm the boulevard. I was able, nevertheless, to reach the office -of l’Humanité and, with others, to write my name in homage to the -fallen one. - -Already history was on the march. The national defense was in -organization, and each individual had too many personal preoccupations -to give even to the most legitimate occupation more than a few brief -minutes of attention. For myself it was necessary to think at once of -the rôle of soldier, which I was reassuming. - -I hurried to my home. In the empty apartment I assembled my military -equipment with the skill of an old stager; the compact baggage -indispensable to the trooper, which should serve all his needs while -taking up the smallest space, and add as little as possible to the -weight of his burden. The experience I had had in the trade of -soldiering, the expeditions in which I had taken part (the campaign -in China, where, for the first time, I had as companions in arms the -splendid soldiers of free America; my journeys into Indo-China and the -Sahara), enabled me to know, better than most others, the essentials -of the soldier’s personal provision; what must be chosen and what -rejected, and the precise size limits by which a useful article should -be judged indispensable or abandoned because too cumbersome. - -I provided for myself accordingly without waiting for the official -call. In consequence I was able to devote my last free hours to some of -my less experienced neighbors. Among these, two poor fellows interested -me particularly. They were brothers, one of them recently married, -who, by uniting their savings, had just opened a shop not far from -my home. They had watched with dismay the coming of the tempest, and -questioned me incessantly, hoping to find in my answers some words of -reassurance. I was able to give only such answers as increased their -fears, and to add advice which they would not heed. - -“Imitate me,” I said to them; “the war is inevitable. Buy some heavy -shoes and thick socks. Provide yourselves with needles and thread. -One always needs them, and too often one hasn’t them when the need is -greatest,” etc. - -They wouldn’t listen. They continued to worry and do nothing, refusing -to the end to accept the terrible reality, closing their eyes to the -spectre as if they had a premonition that they were destined to be -crushed in the torment and both killed; which, as I have since learned, -was their fate within the first month of the war. - -In the meantime I had to write consoling letters to my wife, abandoned -at the seaside, amid a populace shocked and bewildered by the -thunderbolt, and lacking definite news to satisfy the anxious need -which saddened each individual. - -But I was a soldier. I had to rejoin my command, and I had only enough -time to pay a farewell visit to the home of my parents, where my -brothers, ready like myself, awaited me with their wives and children. - -Such an unforgettable repast. The paternal table surrounded by the -group of sons and grandchildren, each still forcing himself to smile to -hearten the others, each in the bottom of his heart wondering anxiously -what the morrow would unfold. Several of those who on this final -evening partook of the food prepared by their mother, or touched their -glasses and drank “A la France,” “A la Victoire,” will never return. -They have fallen on the field of honor, battling the odious invader, -breasting his blows and giving their lives that their sons may remain -French and free. No one knew who would fall, who would be alive a year, -even a month later, but one would have looked in vain for a quiver -in any eye or a tremor in any voice. All were French. All accepted -their duty, however it might present itself; each in his rank, in his -assigned place; to do simply, without discussion, without hesitation, -whatever the threatened country might demand of its children. - -We had the courage to laugh, at this last dinner. We heard our father -recall the memories of the other war, that of 1870, in which he had -served as a volunteer, and then we separated with words of au revoir -and not good-by on our lips. - -We were keenly conscious that everywhere in France, in all the homes -and in all the families, an identical scene was presented at that -instant. At each table the mother offered the departing ones a farewell -repast; the wives repeated their vows of affection, and the children -gave their tender love. Every one swore to make the Prussian pay -dearly for his provocation, to chastise his insolence, to arrest him, -cost what it might, and to defeat him. One entered the drama without -effort and almost without hatred, because it was unavoidable, because -France called and it was necessary to defend her. One was sure of the -right, that the cause was just, and without discussion one obeyed. -French blood--the blood which has flowed in so many wars, the blood of -Bouvines, of Valmy, and of Jena, the blood of the Revolution and of -1870--surged in the veins, quickened the pulse and grimly expressed -itself: - -“They shall not pass!” - -The night of the second of August seemed short. For myself, my -preparations completed, I retired early, well aware of the fatigues to -come; a little shaken, it must be admitted, at the thought of leaving, -for a time which might be long, an abiding-place where I had tasted so -much of pure happiness and calm joy with my young wife and our pretty -baby. - -Adventure, the great adventure of war, of journeys, of battles, and of -blood: Adventure left behind so short a time before, as I had believed, -forever, had seized me again and thrown me as an insignificant atom -into the path of the unknown, breaking all the bonds whose forming had -given me so much joy, and whose stability had seemed so humanly sure. - -When the hour arrived for my departure, I contemplated my deserted -apartment, and gave a last kiss to the pictures of my absent loved -ones. Then, in marching attire, my light sack on my shoulder, I -descended to the street with firm step and heart beating high, to begin -my journey to the front. - -The animation of the streets was extraordinary. All Paris seemed to -have turned out to form an escort for the soldiers. These latter were -easily recognized by the stern resolution of their faces, quite as -much as by the accoutrement they bore. Most of them were accompanied -by parents or friends; those who were alone were constantly saluted by -the crowds as they passed. Many people offered their carriages to the -soldiers, and others had placarded their motors with announcements that -they would carry mobilized men to the stations without charge. Around -these machines there was an ever-increasing crowd. - -I entered this human wave. Immediately one dropped the manner of -civilian life and became a soldier. By an old French habit, obligatory -in the barracks, all the men replaced their formal speech by the -intimate forms--_le tutoyer_--reserved ordinarily for one’s family and -intimate friends. - -Costumes of all sorts were there; the long coat of the workman, -business suits, peasant blouses, bourgeois jackets with a touch of -color given by the occasional red or blue uniform. Hair-cuts were in -equal variety, from the tousled head of the peasant lad and the waving -curls of the student to the closely cropped state of those who had -anticipated the military order. At the station all was well ordered. -The trains, requisitioned before our coming, and with directions -clearly indicated by placards, were quickly filled. Throughout the -cars the men were singing and shouting, giving assurance of triumph, -of prompt return, and of chastisement for the Boche. The coaches were -covered with inscriptions naïve and gay. - -“Excursion-train for Berlin.” - -“Round trip to Germany.” - -“Good fellows’ compartment-car.” - -And a hundred others, many accompanied by satirical drawings, showing -occasionally real talent on the part of the caricaturist. At the hour -fixed all moved forward. All these men departed, singing; starting -on their journey toward battle, toward glory, and toward death, -while along the way, in the gardens or at the doors of the houses, -the women, the children, and the old men waved their hands and their -handkerchiefs, threw kisses and flowers, endlessly applauding, in a -warm sentiment of love and of recognition, those who went forth to -defend them. - -No one, perhaps, of all those who departed, of all those who saluted, -believed that the war would be long, that it would involve the world -and become what it now is, the battle for human freedom, the battle to -death, or to the triumph of democracy over autocracy. - - - - -II - -THE INVASION - - -A short time before the advent of the world catastrophe, Mr. Nicholas -Murray Butler, president of Columbia University, was in France. I had -the pleasure of meeting him in Paris. He gave me the first copy, in -French and English, of the report of the American commission of inquiry -concerning the Balkan atrocities. This report was made for the Carnegie -Foundation, and he asked me to spread the knowledge of it, as far as -possible, in my own country. I believed then that I was doing well in -drawing from this interesting work a comparative study, which chance, -rather than choice, caused to appear in the _Grande Revue_, in its -number of July, 1914, only a few days before the outbreak of the great -war itself. - -I could not think, in writing this study, that it would precede by so -very short a time events much worse, and that the Balkan atrocities, -which were already arousing the conscience of the civilized world, were -about to be surpassed in number and horror at the hand of one of the -nations claiming the direction of modern progress: Germany! No, I could -not dream it, nor that I would be so soon a witness of it. - -Let us return to my strict rôle of soldier, from which I have -digressed. The digression was necessary, however, for it will make -more comprehensible the amazing situation which the war created for -me. At the time the mobilization took place I was accustomed to the -wide liberty of action, of thought, and of speech which is usually -enjoyed by the writers and artists of France. In public places as well -as in certain drawing-rooms, I met the most illustrious personages, -both French and foreign, whose presence gives to Paris much of its -unique charm. My own signature was sufficiently well known to attract -attention, and life opened before me full of attraction. Suddenly, from -the fact that a demoniacal fanatic had killed the Archduke Ferdinand -and his wife in the little, unknown town of Sarajevo, the conflagration -flamed forth. I abandoned everything which, up to this time, had -constituted the essential part of my life; everything which had seemed -worthy my attention and care, to become, on the morrow, an unknown, a -soldier of the ranks, a number almost without a name, without volition -of my own, without individual direction. - -This was, it still is, a great renunciation. To really grasp its -meaning, one must experience it himself. However, by reason of the -importance assumed gradually by the World War, by reason of the -enormous number of men called to the colors of every country of the -globe, the feeling which I experienced at that time has become part of -the common lot, and before the end of the tragedy, the majority of our -contemporaries will have experienced it to a greater or less degree. - -My order to report for duty directed me to go to Caen. It is a lovely -town in Normandy, rich in superb monuments, of which one, “Abbaye aux -Hommes,” is an almost unequalled marvel of twelfth-century architecture. - -I arrived in the evening, after a fatiguing journey in a train packed -with mobilized men, who had already dissipated all social differences -by the familiarity of their conversation. Immediately on our arrival -we entered the barracks. As there was not nearly enough room for the -throng of recruits, my company received the order to join another in -a temporary camp, whither we hastened at full speed with the hope -of being able to sleep. This new lodging, unfortunately, contained -no conveniences whatever: it was a riding-school, where the young -people of the town learned horsemanship, and which offered us for -bedding nothing but the sawdust mixed with manure which had formed the -riding-track. It must be confessed that one would need to have a large -measure of indifference to be entirely content with this lodging. The -unfortunate civilian clothing, which we were still wearing, suffered -much from the experience. - -Dawn found us all up and moving about, each one hunting, among -the groups, those who, through mutual sympathy, would become more -particularly “comrades,” or, to use a word more expressive, more -characteristically French, “companions,” those with whom one breaks -bread.[B] - -The crowd was composed of the most diverse types, but the greater -number were from Normandy. Most of these Normans were farmers, many of -them well-to-do; a few were dairymen and others horse-dealers. The rest -of the company was Parisian. It is the custom in recruiting the French -army to mix with all the contingents a certain percentage of Parisians, -thus scattering over all of France, and particularly along the eastern -frontier, the influence of the country’s capital. In the French army -the Parisian has the reputation of being an excellent soldier; very -alert, of great endurance, light-hearted, and agreeable, with a keen -sense of humor which sweeps away gloom and dispels melancholy. He is -also a bit hot-headed and does not yield readily to discipline. The -leaders know the admirable results they can obtain by appealing to the -vanity or the sentiment of the Parisian, and that he is capable of -almost any effort is freely admitted. They fear, however, his caustic -humor, his facile raillery and his eternal joking, which sometimes -endanger their prestige. At least, these ideas existed before the war. -Under the fiery tests of these three years, all differences of thought -have melted as in a terrible crucible; and there has been brought -about a national unity so intimate and so absolute, that one would not -know how to make it more perfect. - -Among my new comrades the differences due to birthplace were quickly -noted. By the costume, the accent, or the general manner it was easy -to identify the native of the Calvados, of Havre, or of Paris. Already -these affinities played their unfailing rôle, and in the general -bustle the groups formed according to their origin. In the meantime -every face showed that species of childish joy which always marks the -French when they abandon their individualities and become merged in a -crowd, as in the army. Their naturally carefree spirit comes to the -surface and colors all their thought and action. They cease to feel -themselves responsible for the ordering of their lives, and leave all -to the authority which controls them. This enables them to throw aside -all thought of their immediate needs, and permits them, at whatever -age, to recover a youthfulness of spirit which is a perpetual surprise -to strangers, and which constitutes one of their chief racial charms. -Released from all care, they jest freely on all subjects, and their -spirit of quick repartee, their gifts of observation and of irony -develop amazingly--perhaps to excess. They are just children, big -children, full of life and gayety, who laugh at a joke and delight in -a song; big children who will suffer every fatigue and every pain so -long as they can retain their _esprit_, and whom one may lead into any -danger if one knows how to provoke their good humor. - -War did not in the least change all this. While perhaps most of the -troop had done little more than go through the motions of slumber, and -every one had missed something of his customary comfort, no one seemed -tired when next morning’s reveille came. Each improvised an occupation. -One built a fire between two stones that he might heat water for the -soup, another prepared vegetables, a third helped the quartermasters -in their accounts, and still another volunteered to help arrange the -uniforms which were heaped up in a barn commandeered to serve as a -store-house. In a short time the issuing of uniforms commenced. In -his turn each soldier received his clothing, his equipment and all -the regulation baggage. And such scenes, half comic, half serious, -as were enacted when the men tried on and adjusted their hurriedly -assembled attire! Gradually, however, the long and short, the lean and -rotund, by a series of exchanges, achieved a reasonable success in -the transformation, and the variety of civilian aspect gave way to a -soldierly uniformity. - -At this period, in spite of all the efforts to secure a modification -of the garb of the French soldier, the uniform still consisted of -the celebrated red trousers and the dark-blue coat. This too gaudy -attire was a grave error, soon to be corrected by stern experience. -The red trousers dated from about 1830, and had acquired prestige in -the conquest of Algeria and the wars in Mexico and Italy. To it also -attached all the patriotic sentimentality aroused by the struggle -of 1870. So strongly intrenched was it in popular fancy that it had -triumphed over its most determined foes, and this in spite of the -lessons regarding the visibility of the soldier, furnished by modern -combats such as the Boer War and that between Russia and Japan. In -consequence, the whole French army, excepting certain special troops -such as the Chasseurs, the Marines, and a few others, started for the -front in this picturesque but dangerous costume. On its side, it cannot -be doubted, it had a certain martial pride, a pride so notable that it -was remarked by the Romans at the time of the conquest of Gaul. This -sentiment of sublime valor makes the French prefer the hand-to-hand -combat, in which they excel and where each shows the exact measure of -his bravery, rather than the obscure, intrenched warfare for whose -pattern the Boche has turned to the creeping beasts. - -Therefore we were clothed in this glittering fashion. However, as if -the visibility of our uniform had already disquieted our leaders, they -concealed our red head-gear by a blue muff which completely covered -the cap. It was in this attire that the company formed, that the ranks -aligned and the two hundred and fifty civilians of yesterday became -the two hundred and fifty soldiers of to-day; two hundred and fifty -soldiers of right and justice. In like manner millions of others, -scattered through all the depots and barracks where invaded France was -arming herself, girded their loins and burnished their arms for the -sacred work of defending their homes. - -Although few details are visible to the individual lost in the crowd, I -feel sure that none of us even tried to see beyond the affairs of the -moment. Certain things we could not help knowing: The war had already -reddened our frontiers. Invaded Belgium battled desperately. Liége -resisted. King Albert, his court, and the Belgian Government prepared -Antwerp for a prolonged defense. Our comrades of the covering troops -on one flank had invaded Alsace, and on the other had advanced to -Charleroi. In the meantime, we, the soldiers of future combats, busied -ourselves with preparations for our rôle with hardly a thought for -the struggles already under way, or those of the future; this future -so terrible which awaited us. We were more occupied in choosing our -comrades than in considering the far-reaching possibilities of such -incidents as the escape of the German cruisers _Goeben_ and _Breslau_, -and their subsequent internment at Constantinople. No, all that we -learned from the newspaper dispatches interested us far less than the -organization of our squads and platoons. - -I had the luck to find some good comrades, one the son of a celebrated -novelist, the other an artist of some repute, and we three amused -ourselves in observing our new surroundings and trying to foretell -our next military moves. Our officers engaged our careful attention, -as is natural in such circumstances. Our captain, as the chief of our -company, a brave man, slightly bewildered by the astonishing rôle which -had suddenly fallen to him, was the object of our special interest. We -had the keenest desire for a chief who knew his trade so thoroughly -that he would be able to lead us without trouble in whatever crisis. -The soldier is ever thus. Without saying a word he examines his -officer, measures his qualifications, and then reserves his confidence -until the moment when it is made certain that this confidence is -well placed and he need no longer fear the necessity of revising his -judgment. This judgment which the soldier passes on his chief is -definite, almost without appeal, so rare is it that circumstances will -later cause a modification. - -These early days, it is true, did not give our captain any opportunity -to demonstrate his valor. Burdened with an important physical task, -that of transforming into soldiers more than two hundred men who had -left the barracks years before; of clothing each according to his -measure; of answering all the questions of the higher officers, and -of watching at the same time a hundred little details--he was so busy -that we had relatively little opportunity to study him. We were already -armed, equipped and placed in the ranks before we had caught more than -a glimpse of him; and then suddenly came the order to move the regiment -to C----, one of the most important seaports of France. - -To entrain a regiment of three thousand men with its baggage, its -horses, its wagons, its stores, and its service, has become mere play -for our strategists of to-day. To call it a heavy task would make one -smile, for it now appears so simple. At the period of which I speak, -the month of August, 1914, when our defense was hardly organized and -when the enemy rushed on, driving before him the terrified populace, it -was not, by long odds, the simple problem of to-day. The railroads were -congested, there was a shortage of cars, and orders were not always -certain of prompt execution. - -Nevertheless, in spite of these circumstances, the regiment entrained, -departed, reached its destination without losing a minute or a man. -We reached our assigned place at the scheduled time, just as if this -tour de force had been planned for a long time or had been made easy by -habit. - -We arrived thus in our garrison without knowing each other, but none -the less completely equipped and accoutred, although less than four -days had elapsed since the mobilization call had been sent to these -three thousand men, most of whom had forgotten all but the rudiments -of their military training. This miracle of execution was reproduced -throughout our territory, and after three years of war there has not -arisen a single voice to claim that the French mobilization failed -in any detail, or that in either plan or execution it fell short of -perfection. - -This was in reality a remarkable achievement. It must be here noted -that France was prepared for the war neither in spirit nor in -material. Most of our citizens were pacifists, who refused even to -acknowledge the possibility of a war. Yet, when confronted by the -inevitable, each brought to the task an abundant good-will and an -enthusiastic patriotism which gave speed and efficiency to each act -of the mobilization. This was in truth the first step, the beginning -of the “Miracle of the Marne.” It was indeed a miracle, this splendid -co-ordination of good-will and eager effort into an organization, -enormous but almost improvised, which worked without clash or creaking, -with an almost mathematical ease that could not have been assured to a -method prepared and perfected by the most careful study. - -After all, we were not destined to remain long in our new post. In -fact, we were hardly installed when an order came which placed us -once more on the train, and sent us at last to the frontier. We were -delighted. - -Imagine, for the moment, these three thousand men recently armed, -barely organized into squads and led by officers as yet unknown, -starting on their way to meet the enemy. It was for them a veritable -_début_. They were still unaware of the tricks and brutality of the -German. Very few of us had heard more than the vaguest discussion -of the theories of Bernhardi and the Teuton “Kriegspiel.” We knew -little of what was happening in Belgium, of the desperate efforts of -the heroic defenders of Liége, or of the atrocities committed by the -invaders. There was no time to study and explain the horrors of this -war which threatened to submerge us; no time to instruct the soldiers; -no time even to wait for munitions. Speed was necessary. We must hasten -to offer our bodies, in the effort to check the black wave which -advanced so ominously. - -It was not a war which came. It was an inundation. The numberless -German host, rolling on like a wave of mud, had already covered -Belgium, submerged Luxembourg and filled the valleys of Lorraine. No -one knew if there would be time to check it. The army of the front -was fighting, no one knew just where. The English army was not yet -ready, the Belgian army, that heroic handful was giving way, and the -French mobilization was hardly finished. And here we were, rolling on -at full speed along the lines of the Eastern Railway, to reach as soon -as possible the frontier of the Aisne, with two hundred rounds of -ammunition in our pouches and two days’ rations in our sacks. - -We went where we were sent, passing trains of terror-stricken refugees; -speeding without stop along the sentinel-guarded way; passing Paris, -then Laon, and finally arriving in the middle of the night in a -darkened city; a terror-torn city, whose people gathered at the station -to receive us as liberators, acclaiming our uniform as if it were the -presage of victory, as if it betokened a sure defense, capable of -rolling back the threatening enemy and giving deliverance from danger. - -Poor people: I see them still in the touching warmth of their welcome. -I see them still, as they crowded about to offer us refreshing drinks -or bread and eggs, and following us clear to the fort which we were to -defend, and which they believed would protect the city from all attacks. - -Here we were at last, at our point of rendezvous with that grim -monster: War. The men of the regiment began to look about, and -especially I and my two friends, to whom I was already bound in one of -those quick soldierly friendships. We were ready to suffer together, -to share our miseries, and to give an example to others. Because of -our social position and education and our superior training, we felt -capable of indicating and leading in the path of obedience. However, -neither of my friends was able to follow the campaign to the end. A -weakness of constitution ended the military career of one, while the -other suffered from an old injury to his legs. At this early moment -neither wished to think of his own sufferings. They dreamed only of -France and the need she had for all they possessed of strength and -courage. In spite of their good-will and stoutness of heart, neither -of them was able to endure the strain of military life for any -considerable period. A soldier should be a man of robust physique and -unfailing morale. He should be able to withstand heat and cold, hunger -and thirst, nights without sleep and the dull agony of weariness. He -should have a heart of stone in a body of steel. The will alone is -not enough to sustain the body when worn by fatigue, when tortured by -hunger, when one must march instead of sleep, or fight instead of eat. - -All these things I knew well. I had served in war-time. I had marched -on an empty stomach when drenched by rain or burned by the sun. I had -drunk polluted water and eaten the bodies of animals. I had fought. I -knew the surprises and hazards of war; hours on guard when the eyes -would not stay open; hours at attention when the body groaned. I knew -the bark of the cannon, the whistle of bullets, and the cries of the -dying. I knew of long marches in sticky mud, and of atrocious work in -the midst of pollution. I was a veteran of veterans, earning my stripes -by many years of service, and therefore ready for any eventualities. My -gallant comrades knew little of all this. Instinctively they looked to -me for instruction, and placed on me a reliance warranted by my genuine -desire to help them, as well as my long military experience. - -Up to this time, however, the war had not shown us its hideous face. -Our immediate task consisted of placing in a state of defense an old, -dismantled fort here on the edge of French territory, and our orders -were to hold it as long as possible, even to death. We were only a -handful of men assigned to this heavy task, of which, it is true, we -did not realize the importance. - -Under the orders of our commander we hurriedly cut down the trees which -had overgrown the glacis, made entanglements of branches, and helped -the artillerymen to furnish and protect their casemates. Oh, the folly -of this moment, superhuman and heroic! We had only a dozen cannon of -antiquated model to defend a defile of the first importance, and there -was neither reserve nor second line to support our effort. - -Before us developed the Belgian campaign. The battle of Charleroi was -under way. In the evening, after supper, when we went down to visit the -town and find recreation, if possible, we heard the inhabitants discuss -the news in the papers as tranquilly as if these events, happening only -ten leagues from their door, were taking place in the antipodes, and as -if nothing could possibly endanger them and their interests. - -Trains bearing the wounded passed constantly through the station. -Those whose condition was so serious that they could not stand a -longer journey were removed from the trains and taken to the hastily -improvised hospitals. This we saw daily, and so did the people of the -town. We saw Zouaves, horsemen, and footsoldiers return, blood-covered, -from the battle; frightfully wounded men on stretchers, who still had -the spirit to smile at the onlookers, or even to raise themselves to -salute. - -Still, this town, so close to the battle, so warned of its horrors, -remained tranquil and believed itself safe. Every day endless motor -convoys passed through on the way to the front, bearing munitions and -food without disturbing this calm life. Shops were open as usual, -the cafés were filled, the municipal and governmental services were -undisturbed in their operation, and the young women still pursued the -cheerful routine of their life, without dreaming of the coming of the -Uhlans and the infamy the German brutes would inflict. - -Thus passed the days. We soldiers organized our habitation, placed the -rifle-pits in condition, repaired the drawbridges and redressed the -parades. - -Ah! how little we knew of fortification, at this period, so recent and -already so distant! How little we had foreseen the manner of war to -which the Germans were introducing us. We knew so little of it that we -did not even have a suspicion. We expected to fight, certainly, but we -had in mind a style of combat, desperate perhaps, but straightforward, -in which cannon replied to cannon, rifle to rifle, and where we -bravely opposed our bodies to those of the enemy. We were confident. -We reassured any timorous ones among the townspeople, saying: “Fear -nothing. We are here.” - -We were stupefied, civilian and soldier alike, when the French army -suddenly gave way and rolled back upon us. - -In the ordinary acceptation of the term this was a retreat. The -regiments, conquered by numbers, by novel tactics, and by new engines -of war, drew back from the plains of Charleroi. I saw them pass, -still in good order, just below the fort, our fort where the work of -preparation continued. Each soldier was in his rank, each carriage in -its place. It was at once magnificent and surprising. We questioned -these men with the utmost respect, for we envied them. They came from -battle, they knew what fighting was like, and we could see a new -flash in their eyes. They were tired but happy. They were covered with -dust and harassed by fatigue, but proud of having survived that they -might once more defend their native land. Most of them could tell -us but little, for they had only the most confused notion of what -had happened. They were witnesses, but they had not seen clearly. A -formidable artillery fire had mown down their comrades without their -seeing an enemy or even knowing definitely where the Germans were. -They had advanced and taken the formation of combat, when, suddenly, -the storm broke upon them and forced them to retreat. They were so -astonished at what had befallen them, that one could see in their -faces, almost in the wrinkles of their garments, the mark of the -thunderbolt. - -They marched in extended formation and in excellent order, remaining -soldiers in spite of the hard blows they had borne. They kept their -distances, their rifles on their shoulders, their platoons at the -prescribed intervals, the battalions following each other as in -manœuvre and bringing their pieces of artillery. - -It was an uninterrupted procession, an even wave, which rolled along -the road without cessation. Some stragglers entered the town and they -were anxiously questioned. They could tell only of their exhaustion -and of small details of the fight, describing the corner of a field, -the margin of a wood, the bank of a river: the precise spot where the -individual had entered the zone of fire and had seen his neighbors -fall. This one had marched up a hill, but couldn’t see anything when -he got there; another said his company had tramped along singing, when -suddenly the machine-guns broke loose and his friends fell all about -him; a third told of joining the sharpshooters, of throwing himself on -the ground and, “My! how it did rain.” One tall chap recalled that in -the evening his company had withdrawn to a farmhouse where they paused -for a bite to eat, after which they made a détour. Such were the scraps -of information they gave, minute details which told nothing. - -All these stories were a jumble. None of these combatants had truly -seen the war. Each knew only what had happened to himself, and even -that he could not explain. These men seemed to have just awakened from -a nightmare, and their disjointed words told us nothing. We, who -listened with such tense interest, were tortured with the desire to -know if the tide of battle was bringing nearer the chance to prove our -valor. - -We were eager for the fray. All our forces, physical, mental, and -spiritual, hungered for the combat. Our tasks of the hour were -insipid. This incessant felling of trees, this clearing away of brush, -this myriad of fussy efforts put forth for the refurbishing of our -antiquated fortress, held us in leash until the place seemed like a -suffocating tomb, whose cave-like quarters we would never leave. - -In the town the people grew restless as the French armies fell back. -They knew no more than we of the outcome of the battle of Charleroi, -but as they saw the endless procession of convoys, of soldiers and of -fugitive civilians, they began to fear the worst. - -The German drive increased in power. Now, Belgian soldiers began to be -mixed in the swift stream of the fleeing. Hussars, guides, infantry, -and linesmen, clad in picturesque uniforms, copied from the first -French empire, poured by in disorder. Some were mounted on carts; -others afoot, were leading their foundered horses; and these haggard, -mud-covered men brought an air of defeat. Their faces, sunken from -hunger and distorted from lack of sleep, told a story that sowed terror -and kindled a panic. - -The invasion presented itself at the gates of the town with an -unforgettable cortège. Fear-stricken men deserted their fields, taking -with them such of their possessions as could most quickly be gathered -together. All means of transport were employed. Vehicles of all types -and ages were piled high with shapeless bundles of bedding and of -clothing of women and children. Some of the unfortunates were pushing -perambulators, on which they had heaped such cooking-utensils as they -had hurriedly gathered up. Trembling old men guided the steps of their -almost helpless wives. Many had left their tranquil homes in such haste -that they had not taken time even to fully clothe themselves. With -weeping eyes, quivering lips, and bleeding feet they stumbled on. One -heard only words of terror: - -“They kill every one.” - -“They have killed my mother.” - -“They have murdered my husband.” - -“They are burning the houses and shooting the people as they try to -escape.” - -Can you imagine such a sight? And this never for an instant ceased. -Three roads joined each other at the edge of the town, and each brought -from a different direction its tales of horror. Along one came the -families driven from the colliery shafts, another brought the fishermen -from the Scheldt, and the third the bourgeoisie from Mons and Brussels. -All marched pell-mell along with the troops, slept at the roadside, -and ate when some interruption on the congested route offered the -opportunity. All fled straight on, not knowing whither. - -I found reproduced in this lamentable exodus certain spectacles which I -had witnessed years before, but under vastly different circumstances. -Yes! I had seen things just like this, but on a far-away continent -where the fugitives were not men of my own race. I had seen cities -taken by assault and whole populations fleeing in terror. I had seen -houses in flames and corpses rotting in the fields. I had seen all -the drama and horror of an invasion and had looked on with infinite -pity. However, nothing in all that had touched me as did the present. -Those flights had not taken place in my own country. They were not my -compatriots who had been harried like so many animals, and driven from -their homes like frightened beasts, to be tracked in the forests or -hunted across the plains. They were, nevertheless, poor, unfortunate -humans. Even in their panic and distress they were still a little -grotesque, owing to their strange manners and costumes. Their natural -abjection had in it nothing of similarity to the fierce grief of these -Europeans, surprised in a time of peace and in no way prepared to -endure submission. - -Once when I saw an exhausted old man fall at the roadside, near our -fort, and heard him beg his companions to abandon him that they might -make better speed, I recalled a scene indelibly graved on my memory. It -was in China. We were moving toward Pekin in August, 1900. We pushed -back before us the Boxer insurgents, whom we, with the Japanese and the -Russians, had routed at Pei-Tsang. One evening when hunger tortured -us, some companions and myself started out in search of food. We -reached a farm isolated in the midst of a rice-swamp, and we entered, -just as armed men, conquerors, may enter anywhere. There was not a -soul in the numerous buildings of the extensive plantation--or so it -seemed at first. Finally, I went alone into one of the houses, and -there came face to face with a very old woman, shrivelled and bent, -with straggling wisps of hair, grimacing and repulsive. She instantly -thought that her last hour had come. I had no bad intentions, but -she could read my white face no better than I could have read her -yellow countenance had our positions been reversed. She was overcome -with fear, and her fright caused such facial contortions that I had a -feeling of deepest pity for her. I tried without success to reassure -her. Each of my gestures seemed to her a threat of death. She crouched -before me, supplicating with most piteous cries and lamentations, until -I, finding no gestures that would explain what I wanted, left the room. -She followed me as I withdrew, bending to kiss each footprint as if to -express her gratitude for the sparing of her life. - -At that time I had thought of what my own grandmother would feel were -she suddenly confronted by a German soldier in her own home in France. -My imagination had formed such a vivid picture that I remembered it -fourteen years later when the real scene passed before my eyes. - -Ah! Free men of a free country! Men whose homes are safe from invasion, -men who need not dread the conflagration leaping nearer and nearer, -or the lust of your neighbor--fortunate men, imagine these villages -suddenly abandoned; these families in flight; these old men stumbling -on the stones of the road; these young girls saving their honor; these -children subjected to the hardships and dangers of such an ordeal! - -Search your mind for a picture which may aid you to visualize such a -spectacle. For no pen, no brush, not even a cinematograph could depict -that terrified mob, that throng pushing on in the rain and the wind; -the flight of a people before another people, the flight of the weak -and innocent before the strong and guilty. - - - - -III - -THE MARNE - - -As the result of tenacity and strenuous effort, our work of defense -progressed. We had been able to build a smooth, sloping bank all around -the fort, to place entanglements before the principal entrance, and -to arrange such cannon as we had at our disposal. We put iron-bars in -front of the windows to break the impact of shells, and baskets filled -with sand at passage entrances. We had sufficient provision to last -a month. We built a country oven that we might bake bread and not be -reduced by famine. - -We were tired, but confident, the enemy might come now. Each of us knew -the spot he should occupy on the rampart, and we had not the least -doubt of our power of resistance. The commander redoubled the exercises -and drills, and each day notices were posted near the guard-house -saying that we must hold the fort unto death, that surrender was -absolutely forbidden. As for the men, we were equally determined to -offer resistance to the end. - -In the meantime, we came to know each other better day by day, and -genuine sympathies grew into solid friendships. In addition to my -two friends of the first hour, I found myself associated with some -excellent comrades. There was Yo, a splendid young Norman, strong as a -giant, a carpenter by trade. He was persistently good-natured, and knew -a thousand amusing stories. He had an anecdote or witticism ready for -all occasions. Then there was Amelus, whom we dubbed “Angelus.” With -his little, close-set eyes, small features, narrow shoulders, he was -as nearly as possible the physical type of a Paris gamin. He possessed -also the gamin’s quick repartee and unalterable good humor. - -This man, who was killed later, deserves special mention. He was an -anti-militarist. That is to say, before the war he constantly asserted, -as a point of honor, in season and out of season, his hatred of the -whole military business; and detested, without clearly knowing why, -every one who wore an army uniform. When I first met him, the war -had not yet changed his habit. He indulged freely in vituperation of -the officers, from the highest to the lowest; but this veneer covered -a truly patriotic spirit, for whenever an officer asked a service -he instantly offered himself. He volunteered for every rough job, -and although he was not strong nor of robust health, he managed to -accomplish the hardest kinds of labor, and would have died of the -effort swearing that he “wished to know nothing about it, and no one -need expect anything of him.” - -This type of man was very numerous in France before 1914, and -experience has proved that much could be counted on from them, whenever -the occasion arose to put them to the test. - -Such as he was, with his comic fury, with his perpetual tirades against -the officers, and still very evident good-will, he amused us greatly. -One heard often such colloquies as this: - -“A man wanted to cut down trees!” - -“Take me!” cried Amelus. - -“A volunteer to carry rails!” - -“Here I am!” - -Once accepted, bent under the heaviest burdens, he poured out his -heart; he cursed his ill fortune, he pitied himself, he growled and -groaned. That aroused the irony of Yo. There was a continual verbal -tussle between the two men, the one groaning and the other responding -with raillery, which spread joy among us all. - -Yes, we laughed. The tragic events which were closing in upon us, which -were drawing nearer irresistibly, did not yet touch us sufficiently to -frighten us much. We laughed at everything and at nothing. We laughed -like healthy young men without a care, men who have no dread of the -morrow, and who know that, whatever may happen, the soup will be boiled -and the bread will come from the oven when it is needed. We had not yet -become really grave, certainly no one had suffered, when, our task of -preparing the fort completed, we went to the embankment and witnessed -the ghastly procession of fugitives. That froze the heart of each of -us. So many old men, women, and children, thrown out at random, thrown -out to the fierce hazard of flight, stripped of all their possessions! -The sight was distressing, and the visible horror of their situation -brought tears to the eyes of the most stolid. - -The hours passed rapidly. The last French troops fell back, the town -was evacuated. Trains packed to the last inch carried away every -one who could find room. When we went out in the evening, we found -closed the shops which had been open the day before. Their owners were -hastening to find shelter and safety. - -The enemy was approaching. We felt it by a hundred indications, but we -did not suspect how close he had come. - -He arrived like a whirlwind. One evening we were told to remain in the -fort, to take our places for the combat, to prepare cannon, cartridges, -and shells. During the day an aeroplane had flown over the fort, and -it was a German machine. Disquieting news preceded the invader. It was -brought by some straggling soldiers: men panting, miserable, dying of -thirst and hunger, who had been lost in the woods, and had covered -twenty leagues to make their escape. They recounted things almost -unbelievable. They had seen Belgian villages as flaming torches, and -they told their experiences little by little, with a remnant of horror -in their eyes, and an expression of bravery on their faces. We gave -them drink. They scarcely stopped their march, but took the bottles or -glasses offered, and emptied them while continuing on their way. The -fear of being taken bit at their heels. “Save yourselves!” they cried -to the women, “they are coming!” - -After they were gone, the people gathered in large groups, seeking -further information on the highroad. The road was clouded with dust -and alive with movement, where other fugitives, more hurried than -the first, pushed their way, and threw out, in passing, bits of news -still more alarming. Haggard peasants explained that the Germans were -pillaging houses, ravaging everything. From these strange reports one -would have believed himself transported into another age, carried back -to the period of the great migrations of peoples. - -“They have taken away my daughter,” wailed a woman in tears, “and have -set fire to the farmhouse.” - -“They shot my husband!” cried another, “because he had no wine to give -them.” - -The terror of the populace increased and spread. Mothers went to their -houses, gathered together some clothes and their daughters, then -followed the throng of fugitives. Old men started out on foot. The -threatening flail swept the country, even before it was seen, preceded -by a groan of agony and of fear as the thunder-storm is preceded by the -wind. - -And we soldiers, with no exact knowledge of the situation, we awaited -orders and completed our preparations for resistance. We lifted the -drawbridges, we put in place the ladders, the tubs of water to put out -fire, the tools to clear crushed roofs and arches. We never thought -of flight. We had a sort of pride in remaining at the last stand, -in protecting the retreat of all the others, and we strove to give -encouragement to the civilians departing. But we were eager for news, -and seized upon all rumors. - -About four o’clock in the afternoon a rumor passed like a gust of wind. -Some outposts came running: “They are here!” They told of the attack -on their position five kilometres away. Five of their number had been -killed, six taken prisoner by the Germans. This time the invasion -was rolling upon us. We almost touched it. We felt the hot breath of -battle, we were going to fight, we were going to offer resistance. - -This was an impression more than a certainty. Explosions could be heard -in the distance: the engineers were blowing up bridges and railroads, -in order to create obstacles and retard the advance of the enemy. The -foe seemed to arrive everywhere at the same time. He was discerned -on the right and on the left, at each cross-road, advancing in deep -columns, and preceded by a guard of cavalry, the terrible Uhlans, who -were plundering everything in their way. - -We felt, rather than saw, the nearness of the invaders. We could do -nothing but wait. In spite of the efforts exerted by the officers to -quiet the men, there was among them an uncontrollable restlessness: -inaction was intolerable. - -It was a great relief to be able to accept, with several comrades, -a piece of work outside the fort. This had to do with blowing up a -viaduct. We set out, much envied by those left behind. We advanced -with customary precaution, following one point of light carried by -an advance-guard. Naturally, this position was taken by Amelus, the -habitual volunteer, followed by Yo, the giant, whose muscular force -inspired confidence in every one. - -We had not far to go. At the railway-station, we learned that the last -train had just left, taking away the portable property of the station, -and all the people who could pack themselves into the coaches. There -was no longer, then, any assurance of rapid communication with the -rear. The struggle was really commencing. - -Our destination was scarcely two kilometres away. It was a -railway-viaduct crossing a valley. We arrived quickly. The blast of -powder was prepared in an arch by the engineers; our part was only to -watch and protect the operation. A sharp detonation, an enormous cloud -of smoke, the whole mass swaying, splitting, falling, the reverberating -echo, and the route is severed. The trains of the invasion will be -compelled to stop: there is an abyss to cross, which will make the -assailant hesitate perhaps an hour. Although our work was swiftly -accomplished, it seemed that it must be effective. We had nothing to do -but regain our fort and await events. - -However, it is late when we arrive. Night has fallen. On our left, an -immense glow stains with blood the leaden sky: it is Fourmies which -is burning, fired by the enemy. It is a French town which is the prey -of flames, the first one we have seen thus consumed before our eyes, -in the horror of darkness; while on the highroad rolls constantly the -flood of refugees, carts, wagons, carriages, all sorts of conveyances -of town and country, jumbled together with bicycles and pedestrians, -the turbulent throng of a province in flight, of a people driven by a -horde. - -In subtle ways the fort itself has changed character. It breathes war. -Sand-bags are placed about the walls, sentinels watch on the ramparts, -orders are given and received under the arches. Our comrades ask -anxiously: “What have you seen?” We give an account of our exploit, -while eating a hurried bite, then we imitate our comrades, and, -following the order received, we take up our sacks and prepare all our -accoutrement. - -There is still some joking, at this instant. Yo attempts some of -his raillery, Amelus once more pours vituperation on the army, but -their pleasantries fall without an echo. We are grave. The unknown -oppresses us. We are attentive, and await the slightest order of our -superiors. The commandant calls the officers together. The conference -is prolonged, and we know nothing precise in the half-light of our -fortress chambers. What is going on? Will we be attacked this evening? -Will the defense be long? We exchange opinions and assurances: “There -are two hundred rounds of ammunition apiece!” - -Two hundred rounds! That means how many hours of fighting? Shall we be -reinforced? Are there troops in the rear? And in front? No one knows. -Those who affirm that there are troops in front of us meet a slight -credence, which gives way immediately to doubt and then to a certainty -to the contrary. Numberless contradictory pieces of information clash -together, mingle, intercross: - -“There is fighting at Maubeuge.” - -“The enemy is withdrawing on the Meuse!” - -“Yes, he has lost all his cannon.” - -“But he is advancing on us here!” - -All these statements jostled each other in the general uncertainty. -Suddenly, at the door of the chamber, I saw our lieutenant, a splendid -soldier, upright and frank. He was speaking to one of my comrades. -Scenting a special mission, I approach them. I am not mistaken. -“Silence!” says the officer, “I need six resolute men, and no noise.” - -“Take me, lieutenant,” I ask. - -“If you wish.” - -“And me, too,” begs Amelus. - -“All right, you too, and Yo. Meet me immediately in the courtyard, with -your knapsacks.” - -We meet in a few minutes. My friend Berthet rushes in. “Wont you take -me, too?” “Certainly. Come quickly.” - -And now we are outside the fort, with knapsack and gun. We are -delighted with this godsend, without knowing what it is all about: at -least we are moving about, doing something, and that is the main thing. - -“Be careful,” commands the lieutenant, “to the right! Forward, march!” - -We leave by the postern gate. We are on the embankment. The night is -dark, the heavens are black except where the blood-red reflection of -burning towns marks the path of the Germans. In silence we make our way -down the steep slope of the fort. - -“Halt! Load!” - -We fill the magazines of our rifles. Ten paces farther on we meet -the last sentinels. The password is given, we proceed. We go toward -the town, as far as the highroad, where the flight of the distracted -populace continues. Amidst a tangle of conveyances, pedestrians slip -through mysteriously and hurry by. They jostle us, then make way for -us in the throng. At last we stop. The town is only a hundred metres -distant, without illumination, but much alive, full of the hubbub of -the last departing civilians. - -“Listen,” says the lieutenant, “this is your errand: a group of Uhlans -has been reported about eight hundred metres from here. At this -moment they must be occupying the civilian hospital. They must not be -permitted to pass. Two men will hide themselves here, two others there. -The others will guard the cross-road. In case you sight them, give -them your magazine and fall back on the fort to give the alarm. Do you -understand? Go to it!” - -In such moments, one’s intelligence is abnormally active: one -understands instantly, and each man seems to take his own particular -rôle by instinct. I advance with Berthet to take the most forward post: -it is where adventure is most likely. The others leave us, to take -their own positions. So there we are, he and I, alone as sentinels, at -the edge of the highroad--the road which is the path of the invasion, -where rolls unceasingly as a torrent the stream of fugitives. - -“You tell me what to do,” says Berthet, “I will take your orders.” “It -is very simple,” I respond, “one knee on the ground. In the deep grass -you will not be seen. For myself, I am going onto the road itself. I -will stop any one who looks suspicious. Don’t worry, and don’t let -your gun go off unless you hear me fire.” “Very well.” “Oh, another -thing! If we are attacked, we will fire, then run for the fort without -following the road. Our companions will fire, and we must cut across -the fields. Do you agree?” “Yes.” - -I leave him, to take my post just at the edge of the road, eyes and -ears on the alert, finger on the trigger. A host of memories crowd my -brain. How often in other days have I stood guard in just this manner! -I recall similar hours which I experienced in China, at Tonkin, in the -Sahara. I feel once more the intense poetry which is inspired by such -a vigil: a poetry incomparable to any other; a poetry in which alert -action is mingled with the strangeness of night, with the thousand -noises of a stirring populace, with the imminence of danger, with -visions crowding up from the past, with all that surrounds us and all -that flees from us. Less than a fortnight ago, at this hour, I used -to write my daily article. My young wife, in our dainty dining-room, -was rocking the baby to sleep. Or I was correcting proof on my -forthcoming book, and she came to sit near me, her fingers busy with -some fine needlework. She always placed on my desk the flowers from -the dinner-table, and I thanked her for being so good, so pretty, so -loving and thoughtful, by a swift stolen kiss on her rosy finger-tips. -I read to her the last page I had written. She smiled and approved. -Our confidence was complete. She had faith in my ability, I rejoiced to -know that she was mine. We were so happy---- - -To-day, with loaded gun, with every nerve strained, I lie in wait for -an advancing enemy. My wife is far away. She has shelter, at least. -Without doubt she dreams of me, as I dream of her, and she trembles -and she fears the future, the danger, death. My brothers--where -are they?--and their wives, and our parents, and all my dear ones, -like myself, like all of France, thrown into war, into danger, into -suffering. And all the children, and all the helpless women, and old -men, all counting on us, on our stoutness of heart, to defend and to -save them. - -My meditations did not in the least interfere with my watchfulness. -From time to time I stopped a passer-by. - -“Halt there!” - -“We are French.” - -“Advance slowly, one by one.” - -The poor creatures were terrified and bewildered. - -“We are trying to escape!” - -“Pass on.” - -After a bit I return to see Berthet. - -“Anything new?” “No, nothing.” “Supposing you look around more at the -left.” “All right.” - -I resume my place. All at once, I hear the clatter of horses’ hoofs. -Berthet rejoins me. “Do you hear that?” “Yes. It must be they. Don’t -forget. Fire, then run across fields.” - -The cavalcade approaches, is clearly audible. With eyes strained, I can -still see nothing in the blackness. Suddenly I catch the glitter of -helmets. - -“Halt, there!” - -“Gendarmes!” cries a voice, “don’t shoot!” French gendarmes, in retreat! - -“Advance slowly, one by one.” - -The troop halts. One horseman advances, stops at ten paces from my -bayonet. - -“I am a brigadier of the gendarmes, brigade of Avor. I have not the -password.” - -The voice is indeed French. I recognize the uniform--but I still fear a -possible trap. - -“Command your men to pass, one by one.” - -The order is executed without reply. Some ten men file by. - -“Look out for yourselves,” says the last horseman, “the Uhlans are at -our heels.” - -“Thanks for the information. Tell that to the officer whom you will -meet about a hundred metres from here.” “Good luck to you.” - -_Ouf!_ Berthet and I both grow hot. The watching brings us together, we -remain together. One feels stronger with company. - - * * * * * - -It begins to rain--only a mist at first, then a steady rain. The poor -fugitives tramp along, miserable, driven ghosts, weird figures in the -blackness of the night. Some of them give scraps of information in -passing. - -“They are at the chapel.” - -“They are arriving at Saint Michel.” - -“There are twenty Uhlans at the _mairie_.” - -Our lieutenant makes his round. “Nothing new?” “Nothing, sir.” “Very -well, I am going to look about, as far as the town. I will be back in -about fifteen minutes.” “Very well, sir.” - -He disappears, swallowed up in the darkness. We wait. It rains harder -and harder. The water runs in rivulets on our shoulders, trickles down -our necks, soaks our shirts. From time to time we shake ourselves like -wet spaniels. There is nothing to do but wait. It would not do to -seek shelter. Besides, there is no shelter. When one is a sentinel in -full campaign, one must accept the weather as it comes. If it is fine, -so much the better; if it is frightful, too bad! It is impossible to -provide comforts, or conveniences. If the sun burns you or the rain -soaks you, if the heat roasts you or the cold freezes you, it is all -the same. The strong resist it, the weak succumb: so much the worse! -One is there to suffer, to endure, to hold his position. If one falls, -his place is filled. So long as there are men, the barrier is raised -and put in opposition to the enemy. “_C’est la guerre._” That is war: -a condition in which only the robust man may survive; where everything -unites madly to destroy, to obliterate him, where he must fight at the -same time his adversaries and the elements which seem to play with him -as the breeze plays with the leaf on the tree. - -However, the night was advancing. The Great Bear, intermittently -visible between the clouds, had already gone down in the sky, and we -were still there. The crowd still surged on, as dense as ever. The -people came from every quarter. Very few were gathered into groups. -Here and there some worn-out soldiers were seen, who asked information -and vanished in haste. In the background of the dark picture of the -night were the burning villages and towns, but their flames were -subsiding, their ruddy glow was waning. The fires seemed to have -reached the end of their food, exhausted by a night of violence. Sudden -puffs of sparks rising with the smoke already foretold their extinction. - -Berthet, my comrade, was pale in the twilight dawn. “You have had -enough of it?” I say to him. “Oh! no,” he responds, “it is nothing but -nervousness.” - -The most critical moment was approaching: the dawning of day, that -troubled moment when fatigue crushes the shoulders of the most valiant, -when the vision confuses distances and blurs objects, when all one’s -surroundings take on a strange, uncanny appearance. Dawn, lustreless -and gray, the dawn of a day of rain, rising sulkily, drippingly, coming -pale and wan to meet men broken by an anxious vigil, is not a pleasing -fairy, is not the divine Aurora with fingers of light; and yet, it -brings solace. With its coming the vision is extended; it pierces the -fog, identifies the near-by hedge, the twisted birch, the neighboring -knoll of ground. Day breaks. The shadows disappear, objects regain -their natural aspect, and the terrors created by the night vanish. - -Thus it was with us. I was pleased with Berthet. He had carried -himself well, and I told him so. That pleased him. He was a boy whose -self-esteem was well developed, who could impose upon a rather weak -body decisions made by his will. - -“I was afraid of only one thing,” he said, “and that was that I might -be afraid.” I smiled and answered: “But you will be afraid. It is only -fools who know not fear, or deny it. Every one knows fear. Even the -bravest of the brave, Maréchal Ney himself, knew it well.” - -At this moment our lieutenant returned from his hazardous expedition, -without having observed anything remarkable, and there was nothing -for us to do but wait for other sentries to relieve us, or for orders -specifying a new mission. - -Nothing of the sort came, at first. If we had been abandoned in a -desert, our solitude could not have been more complete. As far as the -eye could see, we could not detect a living thing. There were no more -fugitives. We two were guarding a bare highroad where neither man nor -beast appeared. - -At last, some one was seen coming from the fort. It was a comrade -bringing coffee and news. While we were absorbing with delight the -hot drink which seemed to make renewed life throb in our veins, he -recounted the events which had taken place behind us, and in some -manner under our protection. - -“The boys,” he said, “have left. The fort will be blown up. It seems -that we have waited too long already. The Germans have gone by, now. We -are surrounded. No one knows how those animals slip by, but there is -fighting all around us.” - -“No! Is that true?” - -“Truest thing you know. Last night we put mines in the powder-magazine. -There are eight metres of fuse. We will light it on leaving. You are -going to see some fireworks.” - -We did not know what to say, at first. We could not doubt the accuracy -of the information supplied by our comrade, but Berthet’s surprise -was extreme. The most difficult thing, in war, is to be willing to -comprehend nothing of what surrounds you near at hand, and to content -yourself to live as does an animal. Always one tries to reason, to -use logic, and nothing is further removed from reason and logic than -important events in which one is plunged, but of which one sees but an -infinitesimal part, too small to form even an approximate idea of the -whole. - -“How,” says Berthet, “could the enemy pass by in force, without using -this road?” I shook my head. “Who knows?” “I don’t know how it was -done,” declared our comrade, “but they have passed us. As proof, -three kilometres from here they took by surprise a squad asleep in a -farmhouse. The Uhlans arrived without any one suspecting, and made them -all prisoners.” - -A sharp whistle cut short our reflections. Our lieutenant called us. -We joined him and found, at the turn of the road, the entire garrison, -ready for departure. They were only awaiting the signal from the -commandant. The ranks were formed, the captains were mounted on their -horses, the lieutenants and the sergeants were overseeing the last -preparations. - -We took our places in silence, not having slept at all, and having had -the sack buckled on our shoulders for twelve hours in the rain. The -rain had not ceased. The troop was enveloped in it as in a gray veil, -and the wet faces of the men expressed dejection. Their moustaches -drooped, their caps were pulled down, their looks were sullen. Even Yo -himself, with his unvarying good humor, could not find another word -with which to revive the spirits of the men. Only Amelus could be heard -growling somewhat more vigorously than usual. - -Weather has an enormous effect on the morale of troops, as on all -human agglomerations. We were all more or less touched by the malign -influence of the rain. No jest flashed from the ranks as is usual in a -French troop, where bantering springs from the lip involuntarily, where -chaffing is as natural as the air one breathes, as necessary as bread. -A regiment remains alert and strong so long as this spirit of optimism -remains; but at the moment of which I speak, when we were drenched -with rain, when we saw our country invaded, when we knew ourselves -to be surrounded by the enemy, we were morose and feared the worst. -However, it was only necessary that there should be an unexpected peal -of laughter to bring light to every face, and that was what happened -soon after we were given the order to march. - -Indeed, the column was scarcely in motion, when the irrepressible -Yo burst forth with a raucous tone in one of the most ancient songs -of the march, one of those which are transmitted from generation to -generation. Instantly, another voice responded, then another, then a -chorus. And then, in the downpour of rain, on a road so water-soaked -that one sunk to the ankle at each step, it was no longer a surrounded -regiment in flight, but a troop sprightly, gay, and confident and, -like their Gallic ancestors, having nothing to fear but this: that the -weeping heavens might really fall on their heads. - -We had not been on the march an hour when a terrific explosion was -heard, reverberating overhead. It was the mined fort which was -blowing up. All the work of those last days was flying into the air -in a re-echoing crash of bricks, ironwork, shells, and guns. Our -labor was wiped out. Nevertheless, it had not been in vain. Thanks to -its existence, the German army which had faced us had been retarded -twenty-four hours in its advance. Indeed, their advance-guards had -encountered that garrisoned fort, and had been obliged to await the -arrival of artillery sufficient to reduce and take it. This delay had -permitted the last French troops to retreat without trouble. They -were safe when the fort, henceforth useless, blew up. It left nothing -for the hand of the enemy, and its mission was accomplished. A battle -would have added to our work nothing but blood. Our chiefs were wise in -sparing that. - -It was not until later that we knew all this. At that moment we did -not look so far. We pursued our way singing, in a deluge of rain, -overtaking distracted fugitives along the route: exhausted old men, -women carrying and leading children, who moved aside to make way for -us, then stumbled in our wake. We passed through villages already -deserted, a forsaken countryside where the rain beat down the fields -of barley and ripe wheat. On we went. In passing, we gathered fruit -from the trees. At the fountains and springs we drank water made turbid -by the rain. We sang. We heard, somewhere, the roar of the cannon. We -had no idea where it thundered so. It seemed ahead of us and behind -us. As we saw nothing terrifying, as there was no visible evidence of -a battle, we advanced constantly, quite light-hearted, without knowing -that we were passing through one of the great battles of the beginning -of the war, one of the decisive struggles which did much to retard the -advance of the enemy; that our column, quite ignorant of events, was -thus marching freely across the battle of Guise. - -That, at foundation, is not so impossible as might appear. Shortly -after, we had occasion to verify such zones of silence in the midst -of violent action. Yes, one may be in the midst of battle and not be -aware of it. Even at Austerlitz the guard had not yet charged, half the -troops had not broken a cartridge, when the battle was won. - -This time our battle was to be gained by our legs, and consisted -solely of marching. And we marched. And we took no account of fatigue, -nor that the men who hastened along the road were all unaccustomed to -marching. One month before, all of us were civilians. Some were in -offices, bending over books; others sold dry goods, others were at -work-benches or in construction-yards. We were required to make an -unprecedented effort, to which none of us was trained. We were asked -to march for hours, for a day, for a night, none knew how long. We -must advance, cost what it might, follow an unfamiliar road, avoid -ambuscades, regain the rear of our army, rejoin other formations which, -farther on, were grouping under orders identical with our own. - -We went on. The officers had their orders, we followed them. And we -sang to drive away fatigue, to forget misery, to escape the thought of -the heavy knapsack, of the cartridges dragging on our shoulders, of all -the military harness, so useful but so heavy, which weighed down each -step of the soldier. We crossed fields of freshly ploughed ground. We -climbed slopes, descended hills, traversed plains. We went straight -toward the south, covering on foot the route by which we had come -to the fort in the train; a route which had become interminable, cut -only by a pause every fifty minutes, when one could stretch his aching -limbs, could pierce the swollen blisters on his heels, could break a -crust of bread or drink a swallow of water. - -Some civilians followed and attached themselves to us in the hope of -protection. There were women who marched close to the ranks, others who -confided their infants for a stage to near-by soldiers, still others -gave up, exhausted, and fell on the stones, with eyes rolled back, full -of terror and a sort of reproach. They felt themselves abandoned, too -worn out to follow longer, given over to all the tragic misery of the -invasion. And we turned our eyes that we might not see, in an agony -of soul that we must leave them, that we could not help them, that we -could not take them with us; ourselves crushed by the burdens of the -soldier, hard pushed to arrive at a destination still so far away, at -the spot selected for the halt, for rest, for sleep. - -We went on, and fatigue began to weigh upon us. Some comrades suddenly -quit the ranks, threw down their sacks with a wild gesture, and fell -to the ground. They were the physically weak, those first overwhelmed -by the burden, whom the enemy would gather up in his advance and take -away prisoner, an easily won booty. The underofficers tried to make -these men rise and continue their way, without much success. They were -at the end of their strength, incapable of further effort. They gave up -and fell. They accepted whatever fate awaited them. They had struggled -to the extreme limit of endurance. One had marched for several hours -with the soles of his feet entirely blistered away from the flesh; -another had persisted though suffering intolerably from hernia. Some -had foam on the chin. Several attempted suicide. Their firearms were -taken from them and were given to another man to carry for a time. The -latter soon threw them away because of their weight, first breaking -them that they might not be of service to the enemy. Every one began to -relieve himself of superfluous articles. We threw away linen and change -of shoes; then rations. We emptied our pockets; discarded our jackets. - -We marched, and marched, and marched: a march without end. There was no -pause, no aim, no goal. We marched. We sought the horizon, and must -push on still, as one horizon stretched away and gave place to another, -which again must be passed as the first. The day lengthened. The road -was never-ending. One after the other the hours rolled on, and still -we marched. We encountered vehicles stuck in the mire, which no one -attempted to help out of the ruts. We encountered horses in the last -throes of agony, struggling one last time to move one foot before the -other, then stiffening in death. We encountered automobiles in flames, -others in smoking ashes. We encountered encampments of poor wretches, -waiting at the edge of the road for a better hour. We encountered lost -children. Here and there we came upon a house pillaged, devastated, -bare, where remained no crust of bread, where even the wells had been -emptied of water. With difficulty one could draw from them a little -muddy liquid. The men chewed some beet-roots torn up in a field, to -allay the burning thirst. Then night approached. We still marched. The -twilight spread her veil of mist and blood. We marched. The shadows -fell. We marched. Night came. We marched. We stumbled on the stones -which seemed to rise from the road; over the wagon-ruts which cut it, -on the slopes which bordered it. We marched. There were unexpected -stops, when the column, suddenly halted at some point forward, folded -back upon itself like a telescope. The men jostled and swore. Wagons -were crushed, horses fell, in an indescribable confusion. Some soldiers -fell, and did not rise again. Then the movement resumed. We marched -again, and marched, and stopped, and went on. - -There was no more singing. There was no more talking. Occasionally an -oath. We discarded knapsack, clothing, food, even letters, in hope of -relief, and marched on toward our goal with groans. - -At last we stopped. We were in the midst of a black plain, lighted -only by a few dim fires, where the mud was almost knee-deep. We threw -ourselves down, broken, inert masses, without strength to spread a -blanket on the ground, asleep before we touched the earth. We had -covered seventy kilometres in one forced march, and no longer heard the -cannon. - - * * * * * - -Thus we slept, like brutes, until morning. It was not long. The early -light shone on a marsh made humpy by the bodies of men sleeping under -the mist. There were soldiers of all departments of service; Zouaves, -infantry, cavalry, artillery, fallen where they happened to be, without -order, and all but a few still sleeping. These few had lighted large -bonfires, where they warmed themselves. The light of the fires also -attracted many women, children, and old men, who stretched toward -the grateful warmth limbs stiffened by cold. The fires were fed with -branches of trees, broken parts of wagons, anything ready at hand -without too much effort to gather. - -The result was a more or less comforting warmth for the benumbed -creatures who crowded around, in a surprisingly promiscuous assemblage. -Some were heating soup made from heaven knows what, others attempted to -dry their shirts and blouses, soaked by sweat and rain. The rain had -ceased, but the sky remained gray, covered with hostile clouds. The -vision was limited by a low-hanging fog. On the road, the procession -of retreat continued to roll, disordered, in nervous haste and at the -same time slow. The underofficers reassembled our troop. We must start -again, enter the column surging along the road, resume the flight, -take up the march, press on still farther, and gain ground. - -With the new day the cannon again began to roar. It seemed quite near, -although one could not say exactly where the thundering came from. -One felt hunted down, without knowing the location of the enemy who -pursued so relentlessly. So the ranks were formed. Those who still had -knapsacks lifted them again to the shoulder, and again we marched. - -The first steps were difficult. Every joint was stiff, every muscle -ached, and we swore with every stride. Soon we warmed up to the -exercise and advanced more easily. The pace was set for five kilometres -an hour, and every one followed. - -Yo had found some wine, no one knows where. He poured a drop in the cup -of each of his neighbors, and it seemed quite refreshing. We managed to -keep going the entire morning. After a repose of two hours we started -again, always toward the south, always pursued by the cannon, which -seemed to move even faster than did we. We neared Vervins. The outlying -parishes indicated it at each kilometre, and we were only surprised -that the enemy had preceded us. It was nevertheless true. He went -like the wind, regardless of broken bridges, obstructed roads, opened -ravines. However fast we went, he went too fast even for us to follow. -He was ahead of us and behind us. He was reported on both sides of us. -He seemed to be everywhere. - -This is the way of the retreat. However rapid it seems, it is exceeded -in speed by the enemy. Every difficulty retards the troops in flight; -obstructed roads, slow-moving army wagons, necessary destruction. -The enemy pushes on. He sends forward his cavalry quite indifferent -to the condition of the land. He takes strategic points, he occupies -mountains, he bars passes. We must make a détour to cross a river over -which he leaps. We must save munitions which weigh heavily and impede -our course. We must watch for a safety which he disdains. He comes -and breaks the embryonic resistance which he encounters, overthrows -battalions already in rout, sweeps away regiments already disorganized. -You believe he is behind, he is really in front. You go to the right, -he is there. You return to the left, he has forestalled you. Those -hours of torture, when difficulties accumulate to impede flight, when -the mother’s weakness detains the son, when the weight of a child is a -crushing burden! Those hours of agony, when all about is burning, when -terror is spread abroad, when only menace is seen on every hand! Those -who have lived through such hours will never be able to efface them -from the memory. - -We arrived at Vervins, already attacked by the enemy, but defended by -a screen of troops with some cannon. From the distracted town, where -the detonations rocked the houses and made the window-panes rattle, -one could watch the battle. Some aeroplanes were flying about overhead -like great birds of war. They were the first military aircraft, -still incomplete and badly armed. From them the observer could see -but little, and he was obliged to descend to earth to bring his -information. Such as these machines were, they interested us much, and -seemed to fulfil in the air a remarkable mission. - -Beyond this observation, the sight did not prevent some of us from -seeking provision. It was already very difficult to find food in -that town, where an army had passed. Practically nothing was left. -The shops had wound up their business and their owners were preparing -for flight. Everywhere were piled up furniture, scattered straw, torn -paper. Nothing kept its usual course. One paid no matter what sum for -two spoiled eggs. Berthet achieved a veritable triumph in discovering a -pound of almond chocolate. - -However, the soup was cooked on the kitchen-stoves in the houses. The -quartermasters distributed meat and bread, at least as much as they -could procure from the commissariat wagons which had stopped at the -edge of the town. Some wounded men, returning from the fighting-lines, -mingled with the men carrying wood and water. Some artillery wagons -went through the streets at full speed, vainly searching some munitions -gone astray. - -In this general turmoil there came to hand an unfamiliar newspaper: -it was the _Bulletin of the Army of the Republic_, which the minister -of war had just established, and which was distributed to the troops. -Every one, eager for news, obtained a copy and turned its pages -rapidly, in the hope of gaining some definite knowledge of events. -We read some reports of victorious progress in Alsace. The reading -gave us some comfort and strengthened our courage. All was not lost, -then, since the enemy was retreating over there! We exchanged words of -confidence, we reassured each other: Germany would be beaten, that was -certain. The Cossacks were invading Prussia, and our retreat signified -nothing: we were at a disadvantageous point of the field of action, -that was all! The enemy, hard pressed elsewhere, was going to retreat -in his turn, and would be pursued to Berlin. - -Laughter became contagious, and some joyous souls could not refrain -from boasting. Our fatigue fell from us; we were again serene. - -None the less, it was necessary to continue the movement already -initiated, retreat still further, resume the march as soon as night -had fallen, gain in all haste a point at the rear which had been -indicated to our chief officers. We again took the highroad. It was -still crowded, but only by the troops. The fugitive civilians were -obliged to yield it to the army wagons and infantry, and themselves -march across fields. They could be seen in long files, like migratory -tribes, stopped by natural obstacles, entangled by hedges and hindered -by watercourses. We passed without giving them aid; there was no time -to stop. We were directed toward Laon, which we must reach at all cost, -in order to organize the resistance before the arrival of the enemy. - -Laon was far away, and the road was long, and the sack was heavy, and -the march was at a bruising pace. We braced ourselves for endurance. -Our faces, with several days’ growth of beard, were streaked with sweat -and dirt, were drawn and haggard from fatigue. We marched all night -without arriving at our goal, then all day. It was evening when we -reached the citadel perched on its rock, dominating a vast stretch of -plain. We were installed in an entirely new barrack, and went to sleep -without eating. We were not hungry, which was well, as there were no -provisions. I threw myself on a bed and fell asleep like a clod. It -would be light to-morrow, one could see clearly to-morrow; one could -wash to-morrow, one could eat to-morrow. - -That was the way of it. All night the exhausted troop slept without -sentinels, stomach empty, mouth open, in whatever position they -happened to fall, utterly incapable of any defense. If the enemy -had come, he could have swept away at a single stroke and without a -struggle ten thousand men. There was not one of us who could have fired -a shot. - -This haste was important. It gave time to catch our breath. The army -having escaped the German pursuit, saved its quota and could reorganize. - -“Look at that steep bluff!” said Berthet to me the following morning. -“It seems impregnable, does it not? Nevertheless, in 1809 Napoleon’s -Marie Louise Battalion took Laon by storm, from this side, and made a -bayonet charge up those steep slopes, and dislodged the enemy.” - -As for us, we must first descend the declivity. The enemy was -approaching. His scouts and advance-guards flashed through the plain -in every direction. He gushed from the woods, he streamed along the -roads, he inundated the fields. He came from everywhere, as if the -entire earth had vomited Germans. They were innumerable as a cloud of -locusts. It was more like a plague than an army. It was a barbarian -horde pouring itself over our country and forcing us to retreat again; -always retreat, always faster, without looking back and without -offering resistance. - -We set out once more, madness in our eyes. Would it never end, this -flight? What was happening? What were our armies doing? Were we going -to fall back as far as Paris? or perhaps still farther, as far as -the Loire? We no longer knew what to think. We no longer possessed -speech or ideas. The chiefs knew no more than the men. They no longer -attempted to explain. Our lieutenant carried the knapsack of a man gone -lame, and marched chewing a cigar. Our commandant went up and down the -length of the column with a sombre air, and no one dreamed of singing. - -These were the first days of September. The air was still hot -and stifling. Some men, made giddy by the sun, fell in crumpled -masses. Sweat ran off our bodies, rusted the arms in our hands. A -suffocating dust filled the air and covered faces and clothing with an -ever-thickening layer. Throats were parched, eyes haggard, shoulders -bleeding. - -Berthet fell. I helped him up, he fell again. He could go no farther, -and I feared that I would see him die there of exhaustion. I rubbed -him, made him drink a little mint. Then I put him in the shade and went -foraging. I discovered some water and a fresh egg, which I made him -take. He swallowed it, only half conscious. Then I saw a resurrection. -He sat up, light returned to his eye and color to his cheek. - -Thus he was saved; but how many remained on the route, easy prey for -brutal German soldiers, and how many died, their names unknown! The -plains of Thierache and of the Aisne alone know how many fell by -the way, victims of exhaustion, during the great retreat, when the -foul enemy already scented Paris and believed it within his grasp; -superhuman retreat, which spread for the foe the snare of the Marne, -that miracle which the passing centuries will hold in remembrance. - -Such was the retreat, from my view-point as a humble soldier of the -ranks, from my position as an atom lost in the immense movement. Others -will recount its strategic value; others will explain its grandeur. I -have seen only what I have here related, I, a little cog in the huge -tragedy, and I am proud to have lived those hours. Other great hours -were to follow, but those passed through were not the least wonderful. - - - - -IV - -WAITING - - -We took with us on our retreat some prisoners captured at Guise, during -our frenzied flight; some dozen men, whom the gendarmes conducted, -handcuffs on wrists. They excited much curiosity. - -These soldiers did not give a very proud idea of the battle, nor of -the enemy army. They were poor devils, dressed in gray, whose boots of -tan leather alone drew attention. These looked very well, but were too -narrow for the feet, and several men limped in a ridiculous manner. - -Chained with them marched some civilians, marauders or spies, also -being conducted to the rear. One of them attempted escape one night. -Immediately retaken, one hour later he stood before a court martial, -whose sombre appearance is graven on my memory. - -It was a simple village house, with green shutters. A sentry stood -at the door. Through the open windows one could see the tribunal in -session, and the accused defending himself. The trial was brief and -tragic. Five officers were seated in a commonplace dining-room, with -an extension-table for a desk, at the end of which two clerks were -writing. At the end of the room, in front of the buffet, some gendarmes -guarded the accused. The contrast between the austere scene and its -setting was striking. There a man was being judged, there his life or -death was the subject for decision; and the cannon were roaring, quite -near, and the retreating army was filling the village street. - -I saw the man plead his cause, standing, gesticulating. The judges -listened attentively and gravely. Not a muscle of their countenances -moved; they seemed made of wax. Their caps made splashes of scarlet -and gold on the table. On the wall behind the presiding officer hung -a naïve picture of a country fête. The hanging lamp appeared to have -been in the way: it was unhooked and put in a corner. I could plainly -hear the voices, though I could not distinguish the words. The accused -implored. He clasped his hands and fell on his knees. Then he uttered a -cry.... The gendarmes dragged him away. His place was taken by another -prisoner. - -The next day, when we were leaving, he was missing. He had been shot at -sunrise. - - * * * * * - -We finished the retreat by railway, finding a train which had come as -far as a broken bridge and was turning back on its route. We were shut -up in the carriages three entire days. Though it seemed an interminable -journey, nevertheless it ended with our return to our starting-point. - -This return, of a fantastic duration (our whole trip could be made -in eight hours in time of peace) occupied the first days of the -battle of the Marne. Yes, while the destiny of the world hung in the -balance, while the most formidable struggle the earth had ever seen -was in progress, we were packed into boxes on wheels, we were shunted -about and loitered on the rails like so much useless merchandise. -Our train moved, stopped, went into a station, departed, stopped -again. We remained for hours on grassy tracks where no train had -passed for months. We borrowed unfamiliar routes, we lost our way -on unknown switches. Sometimes we stopped in a tunnel, or in the -midst of a deserted countryside. Sometimes we halted at a town where -the inhabitants crowded about us, bringing provisions of all sorts: -bread, wine, meat, and fruit, and fêted us in a thousand ways. The -people questioned us eagerly. The greater number had a son or brother -in the army, and naïvely asked news of them. We had no information -whatever, but exchanged assurances of an early victory. In spite of -what we had seen, our confidence remained unbroken, and we gave much -comfort to those who saw only disaster ahead. We maintained that the -French advance continued constantly in Alsace, that the Germans were -retreating everywhere, that the Russians were galloping on Berlin by -forced marches. We were certain that Germany was rushing to suicide, -and our certainty was eagerly demanded in exchange for the presents -received. The sympathy of all these people was touching. It seemed -as though we were all one family with these, our own French people, -who were giving us so hearty a welcome. We felt so grateful for their -reception that we would have liked to embrace them all. - -Then the train started. We exchanged hearty adieus as we went -away--only to stop a little farther on for another lapse of time. After -three full days of this we reached our destination. We had traversed -half of France, and were now going to recuperate for new hardships. - -Our camp was located in a little village buried in verdure, in the -midst of a calm countryside, as far from the war as possible. Very -little news reached this out-of-the-way spot; newspapers were old when -they arrived. The populace lived as usual, groaning a bit to keep in -countenance, but not suffering any real inconvenience. - -We were soon bored to death. In spite of the daily exercises, in spite -of the drills, in spite of the preparations and small side comedy of -war, we longed for the tempest, for the great whirlwind which was -sweeping away our brothers over yonder, toward the east. Only its -echoes reached us. There was the Marne; there was the German retreat; -there was the digging of trenches, the line stretched to the sea; there -was the Yser. - -Yet here we stayed. Time passed heavily. We felt much aggrieved: it -seemed that the war was bound to be too short to offer us a sufficient -revenge. We gave up hope of returning to the front, so long did the -days seem while our comrades were doing the fighting. - -Berthet and I never ceased to fret. Inertia crushed us. We would have -accepted no matter what offer of an errand in order to go away, to have -action, to quit the tranquil country where we were vegetating, to find -again adventure, to run risks: in short, to live. It seemed to us that -we spent months there, stagnating. In reality it was six weeks. - -In that apparent inaction the regiment was putting itself in condition. -One day twelve hundred men were selected for reinforcements to join a -neighboring division of the army. There were touching farewells. Those -who were leaving, feverish with joy, shook hands proudly with those who -remained behind, and who were envious to the last man. None of these, -however, was destined to return unharmed. All were mowed down on the -plains of Champagne in their first engagement, and their places were -filled by new comrades from other camps. - -That also is an aspect of war. One does not keep constantly the same -comrades, nor even the same officers. The army is a living organism -which undergoes constant wear and rebuilding. At first, one gladly -believes that he will always have the same neighbors, that he will be -with the same sergeant, that he will be surrounded by the same faces -until the end. Then one comrade is transferred to another regiment, -another merely disappears. Another is called to a distance: he goes -and never returns. Soon one finds himself the only man remaining of -the original group. The company has not fought, it has not suffered -murderous losses, and still its personnel has been renewed. - -Yo is gone. Amelus is gone. Happily, Berthet remains for me, and I for -him. We will not leave each other. We believe it since we desire it, -and we are almost sure that we will be able to mould the future to our -wish; such is the immense vanity of man. - -Thus we spent our days, soldiers without being soldiers, soldiers of -time of peace, tied down to puerile exercises, to imaginary assaults, -to supposititious battles. We champed our bits. We longed for the -struggle, we awaited our turn with growing impatience. - -It came at last. One evening the order to go forward arrived. The -regiment was ready, solid, high-spirited, complete. It set out: all -felt a secret thrill. At last we were going to the Front, we were going -to know, to fight, and to die! - - - - -V - -LA PIOCHE - - -It is night. It is raining. The train stops at a station. We have -arrived. But where? No one knows. All is black. All is sombre. All is -sinister. All is threatening. We alight from the carriages to stretch -our legs. - -“Silence!” growl the officers. “In two ranks, quick!” Along the -platform we fall in line as well as possible in the dark, our knapsacks -on our backs, and, over all, the rain. - -“Forward.” - -We reach a road; a road that feels hard under the feet. A damp chill -arises from the invisible earth and the rain glues our clothing to our -skins. Our shoes are heavy with mud. We march. Each follows the comrade -who stumbles along ahead, and whom one can hardly see. One hears -only the rustling of the trees, the confused sound of steps, a brief -exclamation, an oath. We go straight ahead where we are led; through -the dark toward the unknown. - -“Silence!” hiss the chiefs, “we are close to the enemy. Not a word; not -a cigarette.” - -A sort of apprehension grips us. The fear of the unknown binds us. It -is not the certainty of danger: it is worse. It is an inexpressible -anguish. One is in danger from invisible blows that will fall unawares. -We mount a hill. At the summit one has a view, a darkly shut-in view, -whose walls of black are pierced by flashes of fire; mere sparks in the -distance. Artillery! This which we look down upon is the Front. There, -below us, at a considerable distance still, they are fighting. With -throbbing hearts, eager to advance, to arrive at the place destined for -us, we peer into the cannon-starred curtain of the night. - -But the march continues to be slow. One slips on the muddy ground, one -skids, one swears. As we go down the hill the stirring sight is blotted -out like dying fireworks, and we are once more in a shut-in road, whose -embankments add to the blackness and cut off all outlook. - -Nevertheless, the confused sounds of the battle carry up the slope -to our marching troop. Somewhere, down there, a lively artillery -duel crashes in fury and the brilliant flashes of light dart their -resplendent triangles into the heavens. Is it there we are going? No -one knows. One feels his heart thrilled and a little shaken by the -nearness. Instinctively one touches elbows with his neighbor, tightens -his grip on his rifle; becomes silent. - -All the time we advance. Occasionally there are stops; sudden, -unlooked-for stops. Then one starts on. Soon we reach some houses. We -are entering the street of a village and the shaded lanterns cast weird -shadows on the walls. The column crowds together. We catch our breath. - -“We camp here,” say the sergeants. - -The orders are sent along the line. There is a moment of rest; then the -squads break up. Every one seeks his place of shelter. We are quartered -in the buildings of a large farm. I and my companions are billeted in -a barn and we stamp our feet on the unthreshed wheat which has been -stored there. Each begins hollowing out a place to sleep. - -“Make no lights,” order the sergeants, “you will be spotted.” - -“Eh, boys!” calls a voice, “where do you come from?” - -And from between the bundles of straw we see the up-lifted heads -of several soldiers. Approaching them, we find that they have been -comfortably sleeping in their straw nests, and that our arrival has -awakened them. We question them: - -“What is this place, here?” - -“It is Taissy.” - -“Ah!” - -“Is it far from the trenches?” - -“Oh, no, mon garçon; only about fifteen hundred metres.” - -Then they tell their story. They are cripples, mostly lame, who are -waiting for vehicles to take them back to the dressing-stations. They -have been in the trenches for a month; they have fought; they give -details of their battles. We do not see them. We hear only detached -phrases which come to us confusedly out of the night. - -“A dirty hole. We lost a heap of men.” - -“There’s a fort up there which we recaptured.” - -“There were three counter-attacks.” - -“Then, a dirty canal full of rotten meat. What a stink!” - -Suddenly some furious detonations rend the air. Every one is silent. We -listen. - -“That’s nothing,” say the old-timers, “it’s only our battery firing. -But if the Boches answer you will see something!” - -“Do they often reply?” - -“Hell, yes! Every day. Half of the village is already pounded to -pieces.” - -“Ouf!” - -It is true. A comrade who has been prowling around outside comes back: - -“The next farmhouse is demolished. The roof is gone and the walls are -like a sieve.” - -“Silence!” growl the sergeants. “Go to sleep. You must fall in at five -o’clock to-morrow morning.” - -The conversations cease. Each one picks out a place, buries himself in -the straw, and sinks into sleep as a ship is engulfed by the waves. - -It is our first night under fire. Perhaps some of us do not find -untroubled slumber, but there is no alarm and to stay awake is useless. -Besides, there is nothing to do but sleep. So we sleep. - -At dawn we are afoot. We can see that the war is not far distant. The -near-by houses are disembowelled, and such walls as still stand are -pierced by great round holes where the shells passed. Certain roofs -seem like lace, their rafters blackened by fire and rain. We are -curious, and run about that we may not miss seeing any of the damage -done by the bombardment. - -“Back to your quarters!” cry the non-coms. “To go out is forbidden.” - -We hardly heard them, and they had to use force to hold back the men -and prevent their scattering in the village streets. The officers came -to the rescue. Then we obeyed. Soon came the order to fall in, the roll -was called, and as soon as the knapsacks were buckled to the shoulders -we started on. We were going to the trenches. - -The cannonade incessantly grew louder. We followed a road bordered -with trees and masked by underbrush; a road leading toward the noise. -Every eye sought for signs of this unknown thing into which we were -marching. They were not lacking. Everywhere broken branches hung from -the trees, and frequently we passed ruined houses whose peasant owners -dumbly watched our marching troop. On we marched. We crossed a bridge -and entered another village, a hamlet entirely deserted, mutilated, -horrible to look at, like a wounded man lying on the ground. Its -houses, after their years of tranquillity, had suffered a terrible -assault. They were riddled with shells; their walls were like a -moth-eaten garment. We could see the interiors still fully furnished; -curtains still hanging at windows where all the glass had been -shattered; half-open buffets, occasionally with their mirrors intact. -Only a glimpse did we catch as we passed. Then we left the ruins and, -for a time, followed a canal. This we crossed by a frail foot-bridge -and found ourselves in a narrow ditch--a communication-trench--the -first we had seen. We descended into the earth, following this narrow -chink which reached to our shoulders and, at times, entirely concealed -us. This boyau wound its way about, turning and zigzagging apparently -without reason. We traversed it in single file, seeing nothing but -the back of the man in front and the two walls of smooth clay cut -perpendicularly to the bottom. - -It was a sight unfamiliar to all: an extraordinary journey, a thing of -mystery, the entering of an infernal region where feelings of humanity -were left behind. - -Suddenly a rapid whistling passed over our heads, which were lowered in -one simultaneous movement. Another followed, then another and, a little -behind us, three explosions resounded with a noise like the tearing of -silk amid a jangling of metals. We had received our baptism of fire. - -We advanced more quickly in an eagerness to reach our underground home. -We bumped the walls, sometimes so close together that our knapsacks -stuck fast, so that we had to tear them loose with a considerable -effort. All the time we shuddered at the nasty whistle of the shells, -which passed to fall and crash behind. One felt that he must escape; -must get out of this place where, if he remained, he was sure to be -mashed like a strawberry in a marmalade. The march quickened so that we -almost ran, staggering against the trench walls at every sudden turn of -its meandering course and always, above us, that terrible screaming and -those crashing explosions. - -Lord! But our cheeks were pale and our looks anxious. Later we stood -it better as we became accustomed to it. This, however, was our first -moment under fire, our first meeting with the foe, and we felt crushed -by the narrow confines of this fissure in which we could only follow -the column--a column without end, which straggled over too great a -length in spite of the efforts of the officers to hurry the men and to -close up the distances. - -Suddenly we emerged into open ground. A railroad-embankment with its -rails in place, its telegraph-poles still standing and occasionally a -flagman’s house still in good condition, hid us from the enemy. At one -bound we glued ourselves to this embankment, flattening our bodies on -the ground; for the German shells continued to lash the air, while out -on the plain gray puffs marked their explosions. - -Some comrades, whose easy gait showed their familiarity with the place, -were already advancing toward us. They motioned to us and pointed out -the dugouts. - -“This way. Don’t stay there.” - -We followed their directions on the run and entered by groups into the -shelters they had indicated. Here, packed together so closely that we -could not budge, we waited for the storm to pass. In the abri were some -wounded on their way to the dressing-station, and we felt the deepest -emotion at seeing the stretchers with their mangled and groaning -burdens. - -At last the firing stopped. We waited for orders. The sergeants were -called together for instruction. Soon they came back and then our -work began. We first laid aside our knapsacks and grouped ourselves -by squads. Then we picked out tools from a long pile of shovels and -pickaxes, and followed the non-coms along the embankment, a little -nervous, it is true, but curious about the work we were to do. - -“Two picks, one shovel,” came the order. “Two picks, one shovel,” -repeated the sergeants as they placed us at our distances. - -“Voilà! You are going to dig here. Loosen the ground with the picks and -clear it away with the shovels. Do you understand?” - -Then we went at the work. It was the beginning of our first trench. -Gradually we heated up; we hacked at the soil; we shovelled it away; -we spat on our hands; we struck again; we wiped away the perspiration. -Occasionally some shells seemed to leap over the embankment and passed, -screeching, on their way. We dodged at the sound and then laughed at -our involuntary movement. Then we straightened up to catch our breath, -and in the moment inspected our workyard and glimpsed the neighborhood. -The embankment of the _chemin de fer_ entirely protected us from the -enemy. At a little distance two rows of trees marked the way of the -canal we had crossed. Between the parallel lines of the canal and the -railroad was a field of beets, humped in places with bodies of men that -one had not had time to bury; while here and there crosses marked the -fallen of the earlier days of the struggle. - -We saw all this at a glance, and quickly bent ourselves back to the -earth and our toil. Our rifles hampered us in our work, and we laid -them on the freshly heaped-up earth, taking care to protect them -from sand. We did not know why they were making us do this digging, -or what good purpose was to be served by our labor; but we worked on -unremittingly, proud to accomplish the necessary task, proud to be at -work and to feel so calm in the midst of war. - -“You are lucky,” said one of the veterans standing near by. “The sector -is calm to-day. You would not have been able to do that yesterday.” - -“Lively, was it?” - -“You’ve said something. But tell me, have you come to relieve us? It’s -not a bit too soon.” - -“We don’t know.” - -“It’s likely that is what we’re here for,” added some one. - -In reality, no; we did not know. They had sent us there and there we -stayed. After all, no one seemed able to give us an explanation, and -we didn’t try to explain things ourselves. They told us to hurry and -we hurried. That was all. In the meantime our tracks were burying -themselves. The ditch was already knee-deep, and by so much it -diminished the stature of each of the diggers. No one stopped us, so -we kept on, digging furiously, as if the final victory depended on our -effort of this moment. - -When evening came and twilight enveloped us in her soft, purple -mantle, the violent note of the cannon barked only intermittently, -and the gusts of bullets, wailing in the air, sounded like swarms of -musical insects swiftly regaining their homes. We believed the hour of -repose was near. But we were mistaken: another task awaited us. It was -necessary to take advantage of the night to cross the embankment, gain -the first line and take our position. - -In these first weeks of intrenched warfare, movements of this sort were -relatively easy. We were hidden in the darkness: we had only to leap -the embankment and move to our places. The enemy replied only when he -heard a noise, and fired quite at random. His commonest field-piece was -the light seventy-seven, which barked loudly but did little damage, -and the workmen of the two camps matched their skill at only a hundred -metres’ distance, without hurting each other very much. - -This evening they placed us behind some trees at a roadside. - -“Fire only on order,” said the officers. “One of our companies is -out in front fixing the wire. If you fire, you risk wounding your -comrades.” - -They repeated their instructions to the sergeants and thus began -our first night at the front. Each one watched as well as he could, -straining his eyes in the effort to pierce the blackness, hearing the -blows of the mallets on the stakes and thrilling at the fusillade. - -A night is long. A night in November is cold. It freezes. We shivered -out there in the dark, but we did not dare to budge. The noise of -shooting was almost constant, and bullets were striking everywhere -about us, ringing on the stones, clipping twigs from the trees or -sinking dully into the soil. Our teeth chattered; we shivered; we tried -to warm our hands by rubbing them. Some rash ones stamped their feet -to restore the circulation, and from time to time we heard a muffled -conversation. We didn’t know where we were nor the distance which -separated us from the enemy. We feared a possible ambush, a surprise -attack maybe, and we pinched ourselves to keep awake. The hours seemed -deadly long. - -At last we saw the dirty gray of dawn overspread the sky and slowly -dissipate the thick mist that rose from the earth. Clumps of trees -and underwood, little by little, took form. No sooner were they fully -visible than a terrible fusillade broke out, lashing the air like a -thousand hisses; a crackling shower of bullets that rolled and rattled -like hail. They cut the branches just above us and made the pebbles -fly. We crouched to the ground; buckling our sacks, gripping our -guns, hunching our shoulders and tensing our legs to be ready for the -expected attack. - -“Get ready to go back,” whispered the sergeants and the order was -repeated along the line. We crept, we crawled like slugs, profiting by -the smallest tuft of grass, the shallowest recess in the ground that -might serve as a shield, but with little hope of escape. - -Some furious discharges of seventy-fives cracked with such rapidity -and precision that they comforted us. We felt sustained and protected -and steadied ourselves. We were annoyingly hampered by our heavy -equipment, our inconvenient cartridge-boxes and all our cumbersome -accoutrement. Suddenly a man was wounded. He cried out, and, losing all -prudence, arose, ran, crossed the embankment and fled to the shelter. -Instinctively we followed his example. On the way another man was -wounded and fell. Two of his companions seized him and, dragging him -between them, struggled to safety, in the shelter of the railroad-bank. -It was finished. We reassembled. We were muddy, bruised, and wounded; -eyes red from loss of sleep, and mouths drawn, but, just the same, we -were content. Thenceforth we were soldiers. We had faced danger. True, -we had not fought, but we were ready. - -Our rôle had just commenced. We had occupied this sector to fit it -up as this novel thing, this underground war, demanded. This task -achieved, we were to be its defenders. It was necessary to dig -trenches that we might no longer watch from the scanty shelter of -trees; to improve on these primitive holes that had been dug, to serve -temporarily, at the beginning of the battle. Therefore we dug trenches. -It was necessary to connect them with communication-channels. Therefore -we dug boyaux. We had to install redans, build firing benches or -banquettes[C] and construct dugouts. All these things we did. We dug -in the earth day and night. We gathered up cubic metres of soil and -threw them out in front to heighten our parapet. We used our shovels -and picks; we sweat; we suffered; we froze. - -The winter rolled on. December brought intense cold. Ice and snow -covered the land, and while we watched the foe, our rifles froze in -the loopholes. We ate when we were lucky. The kitchens were far in the -rear, and when the soup and coffee arrived they were ice-cold. The -service men started early with their mess-pails, but they stumbled -in the trenches and often spilled more of the soup and wine than -they brought. We ate badly; we slept little: we always dug. We never -rested. There were heavy materials to be carried; the stakes for the -entanglements, the spools of wire, the sheet iron, the posts, and the -timbers. There was nightly patrol duty, the hours on guard, the attack -to repulse, endless holes to be bored in the earth. In the daytime -one slept where he could, curling up in the mud at the bottom of the -trench or seeking to avoid the rain by crawling into some fissure. -At night we stole out into No Man’s Land and stalked the foe or dug -a listening-post. We watched the illuminating rockets. We plunged to -shelter when they threatened to expose us to fire. - -We lived there some strenuous hours, some terrible weeks. Some suffered -from trench foot, some froze to death, some were killed. These are -terrible things: these nights on guard, these nights hugging the ground -when on patrol, these nights in the listening-post when the body -chills, becomes numb, and loses all sensation. One goes on detail and -loses one’s way. One falls, dumb with fatigue, and an alarm sounds. One -starts to sleep and an attack rages. - -War is a thing of horror. It is more. The very soil is hollowed out -like dens of beasts; and into these creep human beings. The rain -saturates the trench and rots legs and wood alike. The corpse hangs -on the wire and serves as a target. War is cold, war is black, war is -night. It is, in truth, such a horror that those who have lived these -hours may say: “I was there. But to tell about it is to live it over -again. And that is too much.” - -[Illustration: Emmanuel Bourcier at the front in the sector of Rheims -in 1915.] - -As for us, we suffered. At first we had no dugouts and slept beneath -the open sky. We had no trenches and stalked our foe while waist-deep -in mud. In December’s cold we had no fire. This which we saw, which we -defended, which the foe destroyed, was France. Our land was invaded, -profaned by the German, and we could not retake it. These conquered -forests, these occupied cities, these subjugated plains, these -mountains polluted, were our native soil and we could not regain them. -The sacred homeland was under the boot of the German. Was this the -death-rattle in the throat of the republic? - - - - -VI - -THE GAS - - -The severe winter ran its course. We had worked incessantly. We had -a whole sector to ourselves. First, there was the tangled network -of barbed-wire, a piece of work in which we all had a share. Each -evening, as night fell, a company of men went out on No Man’s Land to -work in the thick, treacherous darkness. One gang dug holes and put -in the posts, another stretched the parallel wires, another attached -the transverse wires. As this required great blows of a mallet, it -made considerable noise, which drew down the enemy’s gun-fire. As -they gained experience, the men went out rapidly, worked swiftly, -and returned to our trenches only when their task was accomplished. -At dawn, the Boches tried to destroy our work of the night before, -by firing many volleys into the network. The damage was never -considerable, and they stopped that game when, imitating them, we cut -their barbed-wire to pieces. - -Under that efficacious protection we contrived openings for listening -and firing trenches. At the first, two men alternated in a constant -lookout, with ear quick to catch any sound, with eyes strained to -observe the most minute sign. Behind them, on the benches,[D] entire -sections, with guns poised in the loopholes, waited and watched -from twilight to dawn, while the others slept, down in the shelters -underground. - -This organization constituted the first lines in the spring of 1915, -when we hoped for an early victory. So temporary did the work appear -to be, we spent no more time and effort on our trench systems than -seemed necessary for immediate purposes. The dugouts were of the -most limited dimensions, really kennels, large enough for two men -to sleep fairly comfortably, but which usually housed six, no one -knows how. One came there overcome by sleep. One threw himself on -the ground without removing his accoutrement, and was asleep almost -before touching the earth. To afford some protection against the -bitter wind, a cloth was stretched in front of the opening. While this -shut out the unwelcome breezes, it also shut in a concentrated, hot -and malodorous steam, composed of the mouldy moisture from the earth -itself, of human perspiration and panting exhalations, of wet leather -and clothing. However, one breathed somehow. When the time was up, -and one went out to resume work or watching, the icy air enveloped -one like a sepuchral winding-sheet, and the night blinded one’s eyes. -One followed the communication-trench, took up gun or shovel, as the -order might happen to be, and became either soldier or laborer; or, -more often, both at once. Everything was done at night. Everything was -dismal, dangerous, frightful. There was no real repose, no relaxation. -The incessant shell-fire added its horror to our other discomforts and -dangers. The shell! that insensate creature of chance, which bursts -over the innocent, scatters its fragments over the plain, and in -stupid indifference crushes a clod of earth or snuffs out the lives of -a hundred human beings. The shell! that monster which comes with a -moaning wail, invisible as a beast of darkness, and dies in a shower of -fire. - -One easily becomes familiar with its sound. At first, every shot was -terrifying. Then we learned to know approximately what course a shell -would follow, at what point it would fall. Then we ceased to listen -to or fear any but those coming our way. No others counted. They were -non-existent. - -Before we reached this point of familiarity, the salvos of that -plaything, the seventy-five, made us shudder. They came so fast that -we scarcely had time to distinguish the individual shots. Immediately -the deadly whistling object skimmed the ground, and the explosion -resounded. Some men turned pale, others paid little attention. - -Berthet and I found much in this life to interest us. We ran about to -see whatever could be seen. As soon as a cannonade began, we went in -that direction for the pleasure of observing it. We volunteered for all -sorts of difficult tasks, tempted by the risk, enticed by the eternal -charm of adventure. He was brave, was Berthet, but knew not how brave -he was. Sometimes I sought to restrain him, at which he was always -astonished. “I wish to know,” he said, “if I will be afraid.” And he -had his way. He went out on the embankment, where he inspected the -horizon regardless of the projectiles which saluted his silhouette as -soon as he appeared. - -We had some magnificent spectacles. One evening there was a bombardment -followed by infantry attack. The German uneasiness had been evident in -the morning. It expressed itself by a storm of projectiles which fell -aimlessly and did little damage. The shells cut the grass, exploded -like a sheaf of fireworks, sent the dirt flying high into the air. It -worried us at first, then, as we found ourselves safe in the shelter -of our deep trenches, assurance returned. Each man went about his -business. Some were detailed to dig a tunnel, one must go to the -kitchens to fetch soup and bread, another cleaned the arms, rusted -during the night by the fog, or in the morning by the dew. All the -same, this violent bombardment troubled our officers not a little; they -feared a surprise. We had a visit from our general toward evening. He -gave some orders, took a look at the loopholes of observation, and -went away apparently content. His calm was most reassuring. - -Calm is not everything in war. The plans of the enemy must also be -taken into account. The Boche artillery became violent. Over our -trenches streamed a fire of shells of all calibers mingled. They fell -tearing away whole banks of earth at once; they exploded thunderously, -in a cloud of dust and stinking smoke. We looked for the worst; we -suspected a close attack, a hand-to-hand clash. Suddenly a great cry -rang out: - -“The gas!” - -It was true. Over there, from the enemy’s lines, came great greenish -balls, rolling close to the earth, rolling deliberately yet swiftly, -rolling straight toward us. Gas! That horrible thing, still almost -unknown, which had been used for the first time only recently on the -Yser. It was coming with deadly surety amidst a tornado of artillery. -Orders were shouted back and forth: - -“The gas! Put on the masks!” - -Each man spread over his face the protecting cloth. The shelters -were closed. The telephone, whose wires ran the length of the -communication-trenches, gave the warning: “Look out! The gas!” - -We did not yet know what manner of horror it was. None of us had -experienced an attack of the sort. We ran to and fro like ants whose -hill has been molested. Some fired their guns at random, others awaited -orders. The frightful, livid thing came on, expanded to a cloud, crept -upon us, glided into the trenches. The air was quickly obscured. We -were swimming in an atmosphere stained a venomous color, uncanny, -indescribable. The sky appeared greenish, the earth disappeared. The -men staggered about for a moment, took a gasping breath, and rolled -on the ground, stifled. There were some knots of soldiers who had -been asleep in their beds when overtaken by the gas. They writhed in -convulsions, with vitals burning, with froth on the lips, calling for -their mothers or cursing the German. We gathered them up as best we -could; we took them to the doctors, who, thus confronted by an unknown -condition, found themselves powerless. They tried the application of -oxygen and ether in an effort to save the lives of the victims, only -to see them die, already decomposed, in their hands. - -The masks had not yet been perfected and were a poor protection. -Some ran about like madmen, shrieking in terror, the throat choked -with saliva, and fell in heaps, in contortions of agony. Some filled -the mouth with handfuls of grass and struggled against asphyxiation. -Others, down in the shelters, sprinkled face and neck with brackish -water, and awaited a death all too long in coming.[E] Over all this -the artillery shrieked in unchained madness. The sky was of steel, -quivering and molten. There were no longer any distinctly heard shots, -but a storm of fire. It roared, it whistled, it exploded without -respite, as if all the furies of hell were yelping, in a thick, -metallic sky. At the left, little by little, an ever-reddening glow -showed the neighboring city of Rheims, which the Boches were bombarding -in a mad rage of destruction. We saw the flames leap up, the houses -kindle like torches and throw toward the sky clouds of sparks and -streams of black and red smoke. Everything seemed flaming and tottering -and falling in a wild delirium. The earth itself opened to swallow the -last survivors. In the trenches the bodies of the dead were heaped, and -twisted or bleeding corpses choked the passageways. - -Fiercely, convulsively, desperately, the comrades who were unhurt -fought at their loopholes. Reinforcements came from the rear in haste, -and took their places. Their eyes were those of madmen, their breath -was panting. - -“The assault will be here in a minute, boys,” I said to my nearest -neighbors. “Look out for yourselves. Have your cartridges ready. You, -there, lift your gun higher, or you will fire badly! And you, aim -toward that corner you see over there!” - -Berthet helped me, with a tragic manner of responsibility; the -underofficers ran from one man to another crying: “Keep cool! We will -get them! Just let them come on!” - -Then the action rushed on even more furiously, more demoniac. In the -midst of the increased cannonade the gun-fire rattled. It commenced at -the left, gained the centre, reached the right. The whole line crackled -like the beginning of a roll of thunder. We could no longer see ahead -of us. We fired as fast as possible, without knowing where, cutting -into space. - -“Here they are! Keep cool!” - -In the dim light a gray mass was oscillating. As it rapidly advanced, -we could distinguish small objects on the plain, like moving blades -of grass. We fired: cries could be heard. We fired more rapidly. The -gas was dissipating, but the night was becoming thick. Our only light -was the blazing city of Rheims and the glow of shells. The pandemonium -increased. One could distinguish only his immediate neighbor, lifting -his gun, firing, recoiling from the discharge, replacing the spent -cartridge with a full one. The pungent taste of burnt powder penetrated -the throat. We sweat. We no longer feared. We pulled the trigger; we -were fighting, we were defending the soil, the trench, the sector, in a -blind rage. _They should not take it!_ They should give up; they should -fall back. We would kill them all rather than permit their feet to -contaminate the spot we were guarding. - -This endured for more than an hour, this insane uproar of shrieking -voices, crashing cannon, cracking rifles; while Rheims, in flames threw -to the wind her streamers of light. - -We had no accurate idea of the battle as a whole. Each man acted for -himself, for the little corner of ground in range of his rifle, for -the piece of trench which he was holding. At one side, the Boches -jumped into the trench, cut the throats of the nearest men, then fell, -themselves stabbed by bayonets. At another point they penetrated -the barbed-wire entanglements, remained caught there, struggling to -free themselves, and were cut to pieces by our fire. Farther on, our -shells crushed them. We were scarcely conscious of it. We elbowed our -neighbors, we exchanged encouragement, we shrieked when we would speak. -We were so intense, so full of fury, that many were frothing when -commanded to desist. The underofficers exhausted themselves in crying -halt, and had to shake each man to awaken him, to bring him to himself, -to make him understand. We felt exasperated. - -However, the cannonade was decreasing in violence. The gun-fire ceased, -reviving only at intervals. The stretcher-bearers ran up, took away -the wounded, picked up the tortured gas victims, whose lungs creaked -like the bellows of a forge. The battle was over. The Boches were -repulsed. In spite of their gas, in spite of the surprise, in spite -of their cannon, they left on the field before us almost a battalion: -sprawling corpses, dismembered like broken puppets; dead men who gaped -at the stars; wounded who soon were dead. Our losses were considerable, -theirs were much greater. Twenty of their number remained with us as -prisoners. Haggard and stunned, they were led to the rear for the -interrogatory. - - * * * * * - -“Well, how has it been?” I asked Berthet, as I gripped his hand. “It -was superb!” he responded. There was a hole in his coat. “Not touched?” -“No, a ball just missed taking me off.” He said it with a calm which -I admired. He concealed from me the fact that he had breathed the -abominable vapors. - -After all, it was only a local action on our line. It was not, in the -generally accepted sense, a battle. All of us have seen much greater -since then. However, on account of the gas, this first engagement is -vividly present in our memory, a recollection never to be effaced. It -was an encounter so strange! That foul vapor which enveloped the earth, -which ate its way into the fibre of the clothing we wore, corroded and -withered the leaves on the trees, and changed the aspect of God’s sane -creation into a distorted image of hell, will remain forever one of -the deepest infamies of the Germans. After contact with this poisoned -cloud, nothing retained its original appearance. The arms were red -without being rusty, the color of uniforms was changed. There were very -few of our men suffering from gun or bayonet wounds, but whole mounds -of those who died in convulsions: poor, twisted dead, who agonized in -dying; so disfigured their own mothers could not have recognized them. -Some of them were wringing their hands, others were swallowing stones, -others seemed to be rammed into the earth like stakes. This was not -war; it was worse. This was not the rain of bullets which pierce the -flesh, or break a skull in passing. This was not the brutal shell, -which bursts to fragments, scatters in a thousand directions and mows -down a group of men as gayly as a child knocks down a house of cards. -This was another matter. It was the very air turned accomplice of the -enemy; blinded eyes, frothing mouth, rotted lungs, a breast on fire; -every effort exerted redoubling the torture; the rescuer struck down -above the man he attempted to save; the officer suffering like his men; -the telephone-operator seized in his shelter, the courier arrested in -his course, all alike smothered and struggling with death. This was a -breath from the depths of hell, this diabolic invention, which that -monster, the German Junker, forced men to choose: weapon of meanness -and treachery, which sets at naught the valor of both defender and -assailant! - - - - -VII - -RHEIMS - - -When the life fantastic becomes the life ordinary, when one is at -the centre of prodigious events which unroll more rapidly than the -picture on the screen, and appear in ever-new guise, the astonishing -thing becomes a natural thing; the unheard-of becomes the expected. -A distortion of sensation is produced; the brain registers only that -which surpasses the climax of what has already been experienced; as on -mountain heights, peaks which have been surmounted appear low, and the -climber feels that only those are high which are still above him. - -Thus it became the ordinary thing for Berthet and me, as for our -companions, to live in the extraordinary and the supernatural. We felt -quite at home in it, and moved at our ease in a situation which, for -him at least, would have been untenable a few short months before. We -had become soldiers like the others, eating, when we could, a meagre -and coarse ration; sleeping when it was possible; in constant danger -of death, but avoiding it apparently by instinct. We lived with no -more care than the beasts of the field; with beards long, hands dirty. -We dug in the earth, as did all the rest; we watched at the parapets -with eyes puffed from lack of sleep. Uncouthness grew upon us, and we -appeared, at dawn, in the glacial cold, muffled up in pieces of cloth -and skins of animals; hairy, hideous, and fearsome. - -We were on patrol duty one night. Creeping about, we passed the -listening-post and advanced on No Man’s Land. Like savages, we stalked -the enemy for hours, trying to surprise some unknown men: soldiers -like ourselves, who might be lost between the lines; men anxious like -ourselves, and like ourselves afraid of death and suffering. Then we -returned, annoyed to come back without having bagged a foe; regretful -that we had not been able to spill some man’s blood. However---- - -“However”--thus we reasoned. - -Often, in the evening, when we were free between periods of sentry -duty, we would delay our share of heavy sleep wherein one forgot -all; when one lay stretched like a beast in a stable, on a little -straw in the depth of a retreat, poorly protected from the wind and -the shells. We would walk the hundred paces of the length of the -communication-trench, conversing. - -The night enveloped us; the night palpitating with the noise of battle. -We could hear the crack of rifles and the roar of cannon. Sometimes -the flying steel whirled over our heads with its weird whistle. Some -corvées passed, heavily loaded, carrying materials for attack and -defense. Habituated as we were to the sight and sound, oblivious to -the familiar racket, we walked quite tranquilly, in spirit far removed -from our surroundings, expanding our thoughts and confiding our dreams. -All sorts of subjects shared our attention: art, history, literature, -politics, we touched upon them all, commented upon all as if we had -been a hundred leagues away from the war, as if no other occupation -had the least claim upon us. The contrast was so vivid, the difference -so striking, that sometimes we stopped and exclaimed in amazement at -ourselves. - -By this time we had no childish vanity in the matter. Our sense of -pride was rather above it. We called no one’s attention to our calm -indifference. No! It was night, we were lost in the shadows, no one -could see us. We were simply relaxing our brains in withdrawing our -thought from the present; in leading it, by means of conversation, -toward the past and the future. - -One particular desire which we held in common was frequently mentioned: -we wished to visit Rheims, which was quite near. Our regiment formed -a part of the troops of coverture of the city. However, we could not -enter the town without permission, and this could not be obtained -without good reason. We finally found an excuse, and the rest was easy. - -One morning, armed with our permit, we set out. The expedition was not -without danger. For several months, since we had occupied the trenches -at the north of the city, we had known that the Boches were obstinately -bent upon its destruction. Every day brought its rain of shells. We -could see the flames shoot up, we could see writhing columns of smoke -mount to the heavens. No matter; the visit tempted us, and the most -violent storm of iron and fire would not have deterred us. - -So we went. We prepared our minds, as we thought, for every -possible surprise; we were not prepared for what we were destined -to find. Approaching by the Faubourg Cires, we entered a ruin. We -saw nothing but demolished houses, entire streets swept by machine -fire, gnawed by flames, blackened by smoke. Tottering façades, -holding their equilibrium by a miracle, supported the skeletons of -apartment-buildings, in whose walls blackened shell-holes seemed -like dead eyes opened on a void. Heaps of plaster and stone fallen -from the walls rendered passage difficult and impeded our progress. -Occasionally, an entire section of wall would swing slowly, balance -for an instant, then fall in a cloud of dust. It was a house in its -death-throes. - -After passing this scene of desolation, we entered a quarter still -intact, where, to our stupefaction, the city came to life again. There -only a few injuries to buildings were visible. Here and there a shell -had wounded a structure. The general appearance of everything was quite -peaceful. The inhabitants followed the usual routine of life with -apparent serenity. Open shops offered their merchandise. Young girls -came and went smiling. A pastry-cook spread out his tarts and nougats; -a stationer displayed his pencils and office supplies; a haberdasher’s -window was filled with collars and cravats. Nothing indicated war. -People went up and down about their business; old women gossiped on -their door-step, and peddlers cried their wares. - -Around the Place Royale, which was absolutely in ruins, cabmen awaited -a fare, stroking the manes of their bony horses, or discussing the -price received for the last trip. In the public gardens mothers watched -their little ones at play, caressing them or scolding them, as if their -entire life were assured, as if no thought of anything unusual entered -their brain. - -Was it bravery, indifference, habit? Who knows? We were dumbfounded. -What! In a city crushed by shells, tortured by fire, subjected to the -most barbarous treatment, how was it possible to be so matter-of-fact? -Could the life of the populace continue in its usual channels, -indifferent to danger, removed from fear, calm as in time of peace? - -We must look closer to perceive under the surface the explanation of -the anomaly; everywhere, people seated or standing observed a patient -discipline in using only one side of the street: the one exposed to the -direct shock of the shells. Only a city long exposed to bombardment -could conceive such a mechanical precaution. It is a protection, -because the shell, in falling, bursts; its splinters fly in the -opposite direction to that taken by the projectile. - -We soon saw the working out of the principle. Attracted by an open -shop, we made some purchases at our leisure. A sinister shriek crossed -the sky, and a racket followed. “They are bombarding,” calmly remarked -the young woman who served us. She listened. “It is at the cathedral.” -Then she continued, most unconcernedly: “Let us see! Some braid? It is -at the other counter. You get the buttons here, and the wool and the -thread. Is that all you wish? That makes a franc sixty.” - -Another roar, this time nearer. The street was immediately deserted. So -quickly that a stranger could not observe the action, every passer-by -disappeared. Every one went underground, somewhere, into an open -cellar. It happened as naturally and quickly as in ordinary times when -people find shelter from a sudden shower. They knew that the hour to -seek cover had arrived. The shower of steel would last until evening, -and would not cease until a new quarter was obliterated. It was the -turn of one _faubourg_, therefore the others would escape this time. -Consequently, outside the zone attacked, existence might continue as -usual. - -Already the rescue squads were running in the direction of the falling -shells, as resolute and well disciplined as when at drill. Duty called -them. They responded, “Present,” without fear or hesitation: down there -people were dying under the ruins of their homes. The stretcher-bearers -rescued the injured in the midst of the tumult. If they had been -praised for their heroism, they would have resented the praise as an -insult. - -When recovered from our first astonishment, Berthet and I set out. This -martyred city, so tragic and so calm, seemed to us superhuman. We found -it beautiful. We felt a desire to weep, to cry out, as we looked at its -reddened walls, its yawning windows and wrecked roofs. We went about -gently, as one walks in a place of suffering and sorrow. In our rather -aimless wandering, reverent as in a sacred place, we came suddenly in -front of the cathedral. - -It rose before us like a queen, at the turn of the street. The lofty -façade, stained by fire in shades of gold and blood, lifted its proud -head to the sky. The towers were like two arms stretched imploringly -toward heaven: one reddened by fire, the other clothed by the centuries -in the blue veil which shrouds ancient monuments. Between them the -shattered rose-window seemed to moan distractedly: a silent sob. That -dumb mouth in that fire-reddened face seemed to cry with such hatred, -with such anguish, that we stopped, gripped by the sight. - -It was there that the great Crime had written its name! There, where -France had inscribed the most sacred things of her history; there, by -the cradle of the nation, on the book always open, the assassin had -left his thumb-print; his infamy remained inscribed in each gaping -wound, on each fallen statue. The high towers attested to heaven the -execrable violence. The roof was gone, like the scalp which the savage -tears from the head of his victim. The eyes of God could search to the -flagstones and judge with one glance the foul deed. - -Outside the church the _Place_ was gloomy, but sublime. By an effect of -fatality, it had become the dwelling-place of the holy relics driven -from the interior. The tabernacle was no longer in the heart of the -cathedral, but scattered in fragments around it: the choir encircled -the church. Fragments of stained-glass replaced the organ-pipes, and -the wind moaned through the leaden groins, and chanted the dirge of the -sacred spot. - -Cathedral! Church thrice holy! The murderer tried to destroy thee: -he has given thee eternal life. He tried to gag and choke thee: -but the voice from thy tortured throat resounds higher and clearer -throughout the world. In his stupidity he believed he could annihilate -thee: instead, he has glorified thee. Cathedral! A song in stone, a -hymn--hymn too ethereal for the human ear to catch; a poem of beauty -and light, which the sodden Boche thought to efface, but which stands -resplendent, a witness of his shame, before humanity and eternal -righteousness. Divine, immortal cathedral! Men have never created a -human prayer more sublime than art thou, bombarded. The German shell -believed it had power to destroy thee. It has crushed thine arches and -broken thy wings. Thou hadst no need of wings to soar. As a spirit of -light thou hast floated above the city; now thou rulest over the city -the war, and France; as a symbol, thou art resplendent over all the -world. Rheims, thou wert the shrine of France; broken, thou art become -her emblem. Thou art no longer ours alone. Thy majesty rises unshaken, -triumphant, a divine intelligence facing savage cruelty; a barrier -touched, but not destroyed, defying bestiality. - -We had no words to express our emotions. We walked about, in silent -exaltation. From its purple shroud, still smoking, the enormous -basilique spoke to us. Great scenes in history were enacted in its -sacred precincts: all the sacred kings, the noble sons of France; -Clovis baptized by St. Remy; Charles VII led by Jeanne d’Arc, whose -bronze image still defies the enemy from the porch of the church; -Charles X, last king anointed in this august place--all, all were there -as restless phantoms; powerful, saintly, silent, looking on. We were -satiated with emotion, bewildered by a hundred beauties: the light -through the broken arches, the fragments of art treasures in the dust -at our feet, the scintillating glass on the flagstones. We went away, -fairly giddy with its impassioned grandeur. - -The increased cannonade directed our course. It was impossible to -remain longer. We crossed the forsaken park and made a détour around -the deserted station. Behind us lay a city of silence, but her -martyrdom continued incessantly. Shrill whirrings made the air quiver. -Shells growled above the roofs, leaped the streets, crossed the -squares, threatened, fell and exploded. There was a sudden crash of -collapsing floors and of tumbling masonry. A quarter, somewhere in the -city, was being pounded to dust and débris; an entire quarter was being -hammered out of existence. Clouds of plaster filled the air; great -stones crumbled. - -Families were unable to escape. Their homes, which should have -sheltered them, were thrown wide open to the brutal dangers of the -street. The invalid’s bed tottered in the ruins, the baby was thrown -from its cradle. The old man died at the side of the youth, the wife -in the arms of her husband, the child at its mother’s breast. The -criminal extermination, determined upon and planned, was completing -its frightful work, was blotting out a city, was beating to death a -country. The Boche, squatting on the commanding heights, aimed his guns -with ease, made sure of his fire and picked out his prey. He struck -practically without risk to himself, sure to hit a target in the chaos -of roofs, to demolish and to destroy. A town--what an immense quarry! -The shell may fall where it will: it is sure to kill. The explosion -will burst in some window, will cross some bedchamber, will find some -victim. A town is a quarry more easily sighted than a battery. It is -huge, it is immovable, it cannot reply. One can destroy it without -danger to oneself. - -Therefore the shells fell unerringly; only the flames and smoke made -reply.... - -We paid it no further attention. - - * * * * * - -My poor Berthet, charming companion, and sharer of so many -unforgettable experiences, was unable to follow the regiment through -all its struggles. One day, while in the Rheims sector, he suffered -severely in a gas attack and the physicians ordered him to the rear for -treatment in one of the resting-camps. Gradually the soft air of France -healed his tortured lungs and started him on the path of recovery. The -German poison had, however, severely shaken his constitution and the -cure was slow. He was unable to rejoin us for the tragic trials at -Verdun. - - - - -VIII - -DISTRACTIONS - - -Existence in the trenches is characterized by a monotony that soon -becomes a burden. It is made up of waiting and work: work in which a -man is by turns dirt-digger, sentinel, carpenter, and porter. There -is much time for rest and repose. It is a special type of life, which -recalls that of the sieges of olden days, when armies sat long months -at a time facing each other. One does not fight all the time. The vigil -is constant, but the struggle is not. There is the incessant watching -of the field in front, the unrelaxed tension of stalking the enemy; and -at the rear the staleness of inaction. - -What is there to do? Sleep, certainly. Then find amusement, for the -time is long. The hours move slowly, night follows day and day night -without bringing change. Therefore, one must exercise his ingenuity. - -One writes a lot of letters. There is always a relative to enlighten, -or a sweetheart to console, or a mother to entertain. Letters arrive -which are read and reread. Then the newspapers bring their limited -ration of news. We discuss their contents. We learn that the submarine -warfare is extending; that the Zeppelins have gone over England; that -the Bulgars are attacking the Roumanians; that a great parliamentary -speech has explained to the world the causes of the upheaval. Thus we -kill a few more minutes. Then ennui returns: dull tediousness that puts -the thumbscrews on the brain; homesickness for the distant fireside, -for the old life renounced for war; yearning for the past, still near -and yet so far. One wanders about and knows not what to do. One fellow -has some playing-cards and opens a game. We smoke, and dream, and -sew, and clean our arms. We await our turn at sentry duty. It rains. -We yawn. The sun comes out, one risks his life to pay a visit to his -neighbors. The picturesque ceases to be, by reason of familiarity. -One sees nothing of that which at first fixed his attention. The deep -trench where crazy grasses hang is a road only too well trodden. The -mess is stale, the card-game stupid. One is bored to death and utterly -worthless. - -Then the inveterate wag intervenes. He sings, he “joshes.” He brings -a laugh. The dying conversation revives. Those who were dozing sit up -again and take notice. Circles form. Each one tells a story, and the -long faces spread into smiles. Torpor is banished for a moment. The -man who was cutting a cane with his pocket-knife exhibits it. It is -fine and much admired. The man who hollowed out an inkstand from a fuse -brings it forth. His work is curious, dainty, and ornamental: bravo! A -painter is there, an artist, who brings out his album; he has a hundred -drawings, warm with color. Each man would like to possess a copy. That -is the end: there is nothing more. All this is too brief, and the time -is too long. We cast about for something new. - -In a hut some one installs a museum. It is a collection of souvenirs -of the field of battle. The gathered trophies hang on the walls. A -Boche helmet is near a freakishly twisted splinter. A German trooper’s -sword-belt hangs near a saw-bayonet. There are cartridge-boxes, -fragments of guns, the button of a tassel from the sabre of a buried -German officer. Every one is interested in the work and brings his -contribution to enrich the collection. It does not belong to any one -in particular, but is owned jointly. It is the pride of the sector and -the joy of the regiment. It receives the _casse-tête_ picked up after -the last hand-to-hand scrimmage with the Boches; a reservoir of liquid -fire, whose bearer lies somewhere near the trench that he sought to -enter; some fragments of grenades--anything which one might pick up on -a kilometre of ground furrowed by projectiles, dug up by shells, or -ploughed by cannon-balls. Curious conglomeration! Glorious scraps of -iron! Mute witnesses of the fury of men, implements of their ferocity! - -At another spot some man who loves the cultivation of the land cares -for a wee patch of garden. A garden, yes, that is what I said. In the -midst of the trenches. He has planted some pansies, a sprig of stock, -and three clumps of pinks. He waters them every morning, and watches -them carefully. Woe to any careless foot that might crush them! These -flowers, in the sombre surroundings, breathe perfume and poetry. - -At another spot a fight between a dog and a rat is pulled off. A -lieutenant sets a fox-terrier on a promising hole of the rodents. -A group of men look on eagerly. One, armed with a pick, enlarges -the opening. Another removes a stone which was in the way. The dog, -trembling with excitement, sniffs, paws, digs, buries his nose -in the earth, scratches, reaches the animal at the bottom of his -retreat--seizes him! Good dog! He shakes the rat furiously, breaking -his back. The victor is applauded and petted. - -Simple distractions, these! I will pass them by quickly. There is -the man who makes chains of welded wire; the one whose hobby is -photography. One mysterious fellow amuses himself with cookery. There -are some secret pursuits, like that of the inveterate hunters, who -place game-traps at twilight and at dawn endanger their lives to go -out to empty them. There are fishermen who drop lines in the canal. A -hundred avocations are followed on the edge of the war, side by side -with the service, in range of the cannon and punctuated by shells. - -I had my occupation, as well as the others, you may be sure. -I published a newspaper: a great affair. A newspaper, in the -trenches--that savors at once of a trade and of an adventure. Title: -_The War Cry_, appearing once a month. Every month, then, I had a -problem: to get paper. An obliging cyclist had to bring it from the -village on the day fixed. He left it at the foot of a sapling, no -matter what the uproar overhead; no matter how large the edition of -shrapnel messages from the Germans. Oh, honest pulp, intended for a -simple life, into what scenes of adventure art thou thrust! - -In one trench the print-shop was twenty feet underground. It was -illuminated by three night-lamps, set in a triangle. At another place -the shop was on a level with the surface of the ground, and the -bombardment scattered sand and pebbles over the proof. At another -time it was installed in a bedroom of a ruined house. As there was no -roof to catch the rain, it fell in large tears on the printer and the -printing. No matter! The number was issued, illustrated. It was eagerly -sought, and the copies circulated briskly, carrying gratuitous joy, -smoothing knit brows, bringing a laugh, and, finally, carrying to the -rear the gayety of the front. - -When I look back upon these labors, they seem to me childish. In their -place, they were amazing. The Great Tragedy held us constantly in its -clutch. The man who was polishing a ring for his fiancée did not finish -it: that very evening a ball or a piece of shell shattered the work and -destroyed the worker. The man who was carving a walking-stick was a -mutilated wreck before his work was finished. The danger was incessant. -In these occupations we sought distraction from the thought of it all, -but one could never ward off that which fate held in store for him. -It was an intermission snatched from ennui; a truce; and when one was -doing fairly well, thinking no more of physical discomfort and mental -anguish, suddenly the cannon barked, the alarm was sounded, and the -dance of hell was on again! - -“Outside: trench thirteen!” - -Then we ran. We left the rings and walking-sticks and the newspaper. -_The War Cry_--It was the real war cry now. The Boche had come upon -us by stealth. It might be night or day, morning or evening. He -slid, he crept, he crouched, he jumped into our trench. We must -hack him to pieces with grenades. Then we must put up again a fallen -splinter-shield, reconstruct an observation-post, open again a -filled-up trench. The shells came like gusts of wind, the shrapnel -flew, smoked, and stunk. - -Or, at another time, it was our turn to leap out, run to the assault, -take a trench, hold it, and guard it. - -It was necessary, from time to time, to go to the rear that we might -enjoy some real security and relaxation. - -The relief! Who will ever adequately sing its praise? It came at night, -ordinarily. Two or three days before the event the sector saw strangers -arrive for a visit, officers and sergeants, who looked around and took -instructions. This is the way they were shown about: - -“Look out at this point. This part of the trench seems to be in easy -range of the guns.” - -“This is a bad corner. Torpedoes hit it every morning. Go by quickly -over there, for you can be seen.” - -“Every man who passes this spot is saluted by a bullet. We have some -wounded every evening.” - -They took notes, made observations and inquiries. We looked upon their -activities with satisfaction. They were the forerunners of comrades -who were about to come, in their turn, to enjoy a period in the open -country--underground. They never came too soon. Already we were making -up our packets, putting our affairs in order, buckling our knapsacks, -filling our side-bags. - -We departed fewer than we came. We left some chums in the earth, under -humble mounds marked with a cross. There was one man surprised when -on patrol--he was carried back dying in the arms of his companions. -Another, disembowelled by a grenade, fell at his post without a cry. We -had known these men, we had loved them. One was gay, one was grave. All -were loyal comrades whom we would never see again. When killed they had -remained all day lying at their posts. A cloth was thrown over them, -concealing the face and partly covering the body. In the evening when -the shadows fell, we put them in their graves. - -It was very simple. If possible, the section surrounded the grave, a -rough excavation hollowed in the dirt thrown up from the trenches. -Sometimes, not always, some one murmured a prayer. The body was -lowered, and the dead went his way saluted as a hero by the cannon. -That was all. It was sad and impressive, simple as an unpremeditated -gesture. Some one put a bunch of field-flowers on the fresh mound. The -soldier’s cap was placed on the wooden cross. Then into a bottle was -slipped the name of the departed--dead that France might live, fallen -at his post of honor. Immediately we returned to our places, to watch -and to fight. To-day it was he. To-morrow it would be one’s self. - -The relief came by following the communication-trenches. Curious -concerning their new post, the fresh arrivals asked many questions: - -“Pretty nifty here, isn’t it?” - -“Where are the kitchens?” - -We informed them as rapidly as possible. We wished that they would -arrive more quickly. It seemed as if we would perish in waiting for -them, and that the danger increased by their coming. They made a lot of -noise. They went back and forth, they talked. Surely the Boche would -hear them and let loose his cannon. - -In fact, that is what often occurred. Then the brutal shells added to -the disorder. Ignorant of the shelters, lost in the thick darkness, -the new arrivals flattened themselves out where they could. Their -non-commissioned officers reassembled them and led them on in jostled -disorder. It seemed that the confusion would never end, that we would -have to stay there, all mixed together like tangled thread from an -unwound spool. It seemed that the deadly hammering would annihilate us -all, down in the earth. Then the officers brought order from chaos. The -first line took their places. At the posts of listening the new men -replaced the old. - -“Notice that recess: that is where the Boches send their love-tokens.” - -“Do you see that black pile over yonder? Behind it is a German -machine-gun.” - -Down in the shelters the new men were making themselves at home, the -departing men were gathering up their belongings. - -“Good luck to you!” - -“Don’t worry about that!” - -Then we set out. We reached the line of supply, and crossed a clearing -filled with artillery. We could breathe more easily. We were going -away, toward repose. At last, in the darkness, we found the road. -Conversation began, pipes were lighted. We were getting farther away -from the tunnels, from the depths of the earth, and from death. Though -still menaced by shells, we felt liberated. We came to a demolished -village occupied by moving shadows: men who remained at the rear, in -the accessory service of food supply and munitions. Lanterns bobbed -here and there. Some horses hitched by the road switched their tails -in friendly salute. We went on. We met an ammunition-train going at -full speed in a terrible racket of wheels and oaths. Still we marched. -We descended a slope. Over yonder lay the Promised Land, spared by the -gods of war: where the crops were growing; where the houses had roofs, -the villages had inhabitants, the barns had straw; where there was wine -to drink, girls to look at, and merchandise to buy. It was all there. -We knew it. The recollections of our former visit came to mind. One -hoped to find the cantonment running on as in the last sojourn; la mère -Laprot, who knew so well how to cook an omelet, and big Berthe, whose -teeth were so white when she smiled. - -One gave an energetic hunch to the knapsack. One recognized every tree, -every turn of the road. We were getting nearer. One more pause and we -would be there. We must still climb a bluff, steep as a ladder, leading -to the plateau. We climbed--for everything can be overcome. - -At last we arrived. The village awaited us with open arms. We entered, -and were at home. - -The shed was hospitable as ever. We felt of the straw, and laid aside -our accoutrement. The arms and leather trappings made a little pile at -the head of each man’s place. Blankets came out of the knapsacks. How -delicious to stretch at full length on the straw! A few moments more -and a hundred sonorous snores, deep and diversified, blended their -antiphones under the worm-eaten roof. - -Life entered the village with the troops. From early morning the -streets swarmed. Wagons lined up under the trees and unpacked -their loads. Horses chewed their hay while switching their tails -contentedly, or enjoyed long drinks at the trough. The blacksmith -hammered the glowing horseshoes in the midst of a smoky haze. The -buffets were full. The cold-meat shop was invaded. The grocer was -besieged until he emptied his boxes. It was a rush, a battle, an -assault. - -“Some sausage!” - -“Some thread!” - -“Some soap!” - -“How much for this cheese?” - -“I’ll take that box!” - -The coins jingled. Happy laughter responded to happy smiles. Wine -flowed. At the river laundry the surface of the stream was billowy -white with the suds from well-washed clothing. With a drum for a chair, -the barber was busy with his razor. At another place shower-baths -completed the work of renovation. New faces emerged, fresh-skinned -and wide-eyed. The exuberant joy of youth burst forth into gay cries -and bodily freedom. Visits were exchanged. The smoking kitchens were -sending out delicious odors. The non-coms were kept busy hunting for -their men who had disappeared, flown away. - -By noon, however, the troop was again in order. In the square the -soldiers were in line, with arms polished and garments clean. The roll -was called. Their appearance was noted, their losses of equipment were -made good. The report was read. We learned that such an one was cited -for bravery, that the general was pleased, that we would remain eight -days without molestation. - -Then the gayety increased. We organized to make the most of our -vacation. Some men with a bright idea arranged a theatre and prepared -a concert. Two sawhorses supported the stage, which we trimmed with -leaves. We draped the flag of the _mairie_ overhead. The programme was -quickly arranged, as we had a considerable talent in the regiment. - -On the day appointed for the performance chairs were placed for the -higher officers, the chief of the battalion, and the captains. The -privates noisily disposed of themselves as chance permitted. There -were spectators roosting on the wheels of carts, others perched on -straw-stacks; wherever a body could hold its equilibrium, there was a -body. An improvised orchestra opened the entertainment. Then several -singers followed with comic songs. The applause was tumultuous, as -high spirits mounted higher. We forgot the war, at that moment, and -its suffering and privation. A ballad touched our deeper sentiment. -A monologue was punctuated with laughter. The hilarious faces of the -spectators told of their pleasure--the joy of living, with youth and -health. We relaxed our tense nerves, and became human beings again. -There were no more shells, no more mud, no more guard duty, no more -fatigue. The tragedy had paused; and, if one had not heard the growling -rage of the cannon bent upon its work of death and destruction, one -would have believed that there could be no more pleasant existence. - -On other days there were games in the open air. Like children freed -from school the men ran in the meadows, tussled in a game of prisoner’s -base, or played leap-frog. The suppleness of body, the litheness of -movement, were such as to inspire admiration. These were no longer -soldiers, but graceful athletes, with agile muscles and solid torso. -Under the trees gently waving in the breeze, with the clear sky of -France above a charming countryside, the scene evoked the picture of -the athletic games of antiquity. Not even the group of philosophers was -lacking, walking up and down and arguing. - -Thus the hours ran on, peaceful and all too short. The troop took a -fresh breath, renewed its spirit, calmed excited nerves, found new -courage and a magnificent enthusiasm. The cruel remembrance of dark -hours, of horrible spectacles, of losses, became dim. We found again a -vibrant love of life. The soul-sickness which had grown upon us at the -parapets, under the shells, melted away in the new environment, in the -joy of a recreation dearly won. - -The week of vacation was completed. They were new men, refreshed and -invigorated, who fell into line when the hour arrived. In the darkness -we retraced the road by which we had come. We were returning to the -battle, we were re-entering the tunnels, the dugouts, the redans, -the trenches, the parallels. Now we were the relief, in our turn. -We took our place. We brought back with us arms, food, replenished -cartridge-boxes, new men to fill the vacancies in our ranks. More than -that, we brought back valor, patience, faith, and a spirit reborn. - -We entered again the domain of death, again we began the agony. - - - - -IX - -THE BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE - - -A year had passed. The Marne and the Yser had gone into history. We -knew that enormous preparations were in progress behind our lines. They -are always known. The symptoms are perfectly visible. The artillery -is massed, the various operations are pushed more vigorously, new -precautions are taken. - -Vague rumors are afloat. Every one wishes to appear informed, and the -strangest forecasts, the most absurd reports are passed from mouth to -mouth, originating no one knows where. - -“We are going clear to the Rhine, this time!” - -“What! do you think? As far as the Meuse, and already----” - -“The cavalry is massed at the rear; and if the cavalry passes, the line -is already smashed. Then, _mon vieux_, how far do you think we’ll go?” - -The war was changing its aspect. Germany, checked at the Marne, seemed -to have an unsuspected force. Her regiments were renewed continuously. -They seemed to spring from the ground, an uncounted host, capable -of breaking over any barrier. Unprepared France, in accepting the -combat, profited by the period of “digging in,” to cast big guns and -manufacture shells. A colossal effort galvanized her hope. People -repeated the famous words of Joffre: “Je les grignote.”[F] - -We were confident: Germany could not win. She would be beaten as soon -as we could collect guns and ammunition in sufficient quantities. Some -words of the generals came down to the ranks. Gallieni had said: “They -are in the trenches--they are lost!” - -We believed it, we were sure of it. The humblest cook, in his smoky -_abri_, spattered with his sauces, his blackened face beaming with -smiles, had no more doubt of it than the major-general in his -automobile. - -Many furloughs had been granted. Each man had been allowed to visit -his family, and had spread assurance of success in return for the -festivities his friends had prepared for him. No doubts found lodgment -in the minds of the people. On tenter-hooks the country awaited -victory. Trembling old mothers believed it, tearful wives put faith -in it, fathers felt convinced of it. At last we would be avenged, we -would punish the enemy’s infamous arrogance, we would chastise him, we -would crush him. We were going to crunch him by an enormous pressure, -overthrow his system of trenches, advance, break his line; and then, -with one burst of valor, we would hurl him back whence he came--into -his deep forests, as far as the Rhine; perhaps still farther, to his -lair. Every one knew the good news, counted on it, awaited it with -impatience. - -People liked the bearing of the soldiers. All were delighted to see -them so robust, so hardened; more alert than at the beginning, more -viril, more manly. The warrior’s helmet graced his forehead like an -aureole. The men were fêted and showered with tokens of affection. Long -trains brought them home--so ardent, and young, and splendid; shouting -their joy in the stations, passing through towns with the air of a -victor. How the women admired them! They were treated (in advance) -as liberators. Those sober people who still were apprehensive of the -outcome, who reckoned up the future and calculated the chances, were -looked upon with a reproachful eye. This time it was certain: we would -pass! - -The opening came the 20th of September. A furious storm of artillery -saluted the dawn, and set the thunder rolling. It was a prodigious -simoon. The sky cracked with the terrible, hot breath; the earth itself -bubbled. A deluge of red-hot iron fell. It was more than a noise: it -was a tempest, a gigantic roaring, the forge of Vulcan in full action; -an entire sector of the front bursting into flame. What a fantastic -tornado! All calibers of shells shrieked together. No single voice of -cannon could be distinguished in the concert. They were blended in -one roll, as if a god had sounded the charge on a gigantic drum. The -avalanche of steel fell on the enemy’s breastworks, spattered over the -intervening space, let loose billows of smoke, dust, and flames. The -very earth seemed to cry out to heaven, as it was pounded to powder and -scorched by the fire. Entire sections of trench walls leaped into the -air; a giant plough turned over the tunnels. A heavy cloud formed, -grew thicker, rolled over the battle-field. The passing hours augmented -the uproar. No sooner did the climax appear to be reached than the -tumult increased afresh. - -Massed near the field of carnage, the bivouacked troops were in -readiness. Each company had its rôle, and each was ready. Each knew at -what hour to join the dance. They were going to pierce through, they -would pass! Comrades exchanged encouragement and last promises. All -hoped to survive, and pursue the routed foe in a sweeping victory. - -Our regiment, like others, awaited the call. It had no active part -in the festivity, but was present. This was for us a poignant grief. -In our sector, not a sound. The cannon were as silent as if every -living thing had become a mere spectator of the drama. As the roaring -increased in volume from minute to minute, we listened. We divined the -scene. We could follow it in the clouds, and in the sounds carried by -the breeze. We were like curious, listening neighbors who hear the -people next door quarrel and fight. The Germans opposite us remained -silent also, and listened, like ourselves. - -Battle of Champagne! It had not yet a name. It held all the hope of -France, a single, united, colossal WILL. For five days France could -only listen to the panting of an army in travail, and held her breath. - -The 25th of September, at 9.15 in the morning, the first line left the -trenches; bounded forward, hurled themselves on the enemy. Another -line followed, and another, and another. Less than an hour later, -everywhere, even well back at the rear, messages of victory came. The -telephone passed on the joyful news, distributed it to the end of its -lines. In our ranks, where we awaited our turn with arms at rest, we -breathed with high-swelling hope. We defied the enemy, that day. We -looked at his lines, marked his location. To-morrow, perhaps, we would -be where he was to-day. We would command his crushed-in shelter, his -hiding-places opened by the shells; we would be the victors, and he -would be driven before us. Oh, yes, we were quite sure. Already, with -pricked-up ears, we could perceive the advance. Our cannon pierced his -lines. It roared elsewhere than was usual; already, opposite us, the -German had turned. - -And yet--no! The accursed race has the tricks of a cowardly beast. -To the chivalrous courage which offers itself for an open test of -prowess, the Boche opposes stealthy ambush, burrowing in the ground. -For the noble _élan_ of our men, for their impetuous passion, for their -valor, the Teutonic sneak sets a snare: close to the ground, about -a foot high or less, a fine copper-wire was concealed in the grass, -and electrified. Our heroes were ensnared in that web. In vain their -assaults were renewed. In vain they accomplished a hundred exploits. -Close to the earth the traitorous wire caught their ankles, sent the -electric shock through their legs, threw them down and burned them. - -But we--we were still ignorant of all this, and we awaited our turn. In -the falling night we saw the neighboring sky light up. The enemy’s fear -was read in the number of his rockets. He was afraid of our sortie, of -our onslaught and the outcome. - -Ah! Those hours! Those days, those four days of superhuman effort! -In what a fever we passed them! At any moment we could become -participants, and yet we remained there, inert, champing our bits. We -talked, that we might shake off our impatience; that we might hear -words, though their import went unnoticed. We talked without knowing -what we said, merely to hear ourselves say something. We waited for our -cue: nothing came! Near us our comrades were fighting in a veritable -furnace; they were living the apotheosis of supreme minutes, living the -glory of combat, amidst an uproar of shells: in suffering of the flesh -and in the beauty of sublime Adventure. We envied them. We mounted to -the extreme edge of the embankments, to the parapets of the trenches, -that we might see farther and follow more closely the movement of the -drama; that we might breathe the odor of battle and grasp its splendor. -We looked at the fire-reddened sky, where a hundred lightnings flashed -and a hundred thunders rolled. We desired, with all our souls, to enter -the strife, and at last force back the intrenched enemy--intrenched in -our land, in our soil. - -Since then many a battle has been fought. We have had Verdun, we have -had the Somme, we have had the Aisne, we have had almost each day a -unique page of history. Most certainly; but it was at this time that -we learned our lesson. We learned that patience is the weapon _par -excellence_ in a war such as this; whereas, at that time we still -conserved intact the old faith in French ardor. It was the first shock -following the Marne, after the defense of the Yser. It was the first -hope of breaking through. We were near it, so near we could almost -touch it, but we did not attain it. We were ready for death itself, but -the sacrifice was unavailing. The sacks loaded for the forward march, -the filled cartridge-cases, weighed heavily and more heavily when we -knew that the line remained where it had been, that the breach was not -sufficient, that an insignificant wire had stopped our onslaught and -protected the German. - -Nevertheless, the results were worth the effort. We counted our -prisoners by hundreds, we gathered from them much information. Yes; but -the gain was as nothing, so great had been our hopes. We were bound to -accept another hibernation, dig in the earth again, dig oftener and -longer; look forward to a war of greater duration, more murderous; -recommence the effort, accept not months, but years. - -The war ceased to be a human struggle. The mass of material became -appalling. It was no longer a shock of arms, but an industrial clash: -the machine substituted for the valor of a man, the contrivance become -demoniac. Cannon were made in enormous calibers. Old pieces were -replaced by huge-throated monsters, and one guessed that the wily -German, girt for supreme effort, was preparing something more, which -would make the early part of the war seem like child’s play. - -This is why the present war is impossible of narration. It is no longer -a battle of a certain date. It is not, as in former times, a moment -in history, the clash of two wills, the shock of two armed bodies of -men. It is a period in a century. It involves, not two peoples, but the -world. It is not a turning-point, but a transformation. It is almost a -state of society: “C’est la guerre.” - -Later, in an unforeseen epoch, in the year ----, it will be taught the -children as two dates: the war began August 2, 1914; it ended ----. -All the tragedy, all our cries, our furies, our agonies, our suffering -and death--all this, without name, blurred and indistinct, will be -contained between two numbers, and will mark two eons: that before the -War, that after the War. We will have fought and we will have wept; our -bodies will have been broken and our hearts will have bled, without -our being able to say, “It happened as I have told it,” for we will -not know just how it happened. We will be obliged to call to mind the -first day when grenades were used; the day torpedoes came to light; -the advent of the four-hundreds. Facts will be mixed in our troubled -memories. We will no longer recall all that happened to us. To be more -explicit, to create a truer picture, we will say: - -“At the Marne, we used rifles.” - -“In Champagne, we threw bombs.” - -“At Verdun--such cannon!” - -“On the Somme the shells flew so thick they met in mid-air.” - -“And then--and then, America came!” - - - - -X - -VERDUN - - -Those who have not been actively engaged in the war cannot form any -conception of it. When they hear a combatant speak of it, they say: - -“Then you fight all the time?” “No.” Whereupon they think: “Then in the -firing-line one is not really in much danger.” - -Ah, not so fast, good people! In this war, this new, present-day war, -the vigilance is continuous, the hand-to-hand struggle is not. Shells -fall unceasingly, but the open battle, the assault, is not without -interruption. Fortunately. - -Thus it was that after the German check, after the Crown of Nancy had -withstood the foe’s attack, since the Marne in fact, the sector at -Verdun remained quiet. - -It was a particularly good point. Here and there a sprinkle of shells, -then nothing more. There was fighting everywhere else, in Flanders, in -Artois, in Champagne, even in the Woëvre district, but not at Verdun. -The sector was so calm, that the only guard left there consisted of -Territorials, mostly older men. They worked without too much effort, -these fathers of families; without much disturbance, doing general work -of repairs about the fortifications, pipe in mouth, almost at peace in -the midst of war. In the winter of 1915 they shivered a little with -the cold; but the forest was near by, wood was abundant, and the cold -caused no great suffering. In the evening, down in the deep trenches, -in the well-heated huts, or in the powerful forts, such as Douaumont, -Vaux, Vachereauville, they basked in the heat as on a sunny day. They -looked at the falling snow and the landscape sleeping under its white -blanket. They swept the snow with branches of trees, blew on their -fingers a little, accepted their slight discomfort in patience. - -December passed, unusually cold; then January came, bringing the new -year. One more year gone, one less to come! Soon the beautiful days -would come, the spring, and--who knows?--perhaps peace. Germany was -tired of it all, near the end of her resources, and would give in. -Every one had his own definite idea on the subject. According to one, -peace would come before the end of June. Another thought the war would -last well toward the end of July. No one imagined that the following -winter---- - -February entered. At the listening-posts one received a surprise: one -noticed signs of life and activity among the enemy. - -“They are unloading iron.” - -“They are doing a lot of talking.” - -Bah! The Boches were putting their affairs in order. For more than a -year the opposing lines had been looking at each other without any -great exchange of blows. They felt quite well acquainted. The fellows -opposite were taking good care of their own bones. Some said they were -only the Landsturm, who were hibernating over there. - -In the town of Verdun the usual life continued. The cafés were so -crowded they turned people away; concerts and theatres were in full -swing; everywhere there was great animation, on account of the presence -of troops in increased numbers. One could not find a vacant room -to rent, and the price of provisions soared. All the towns and even -villages, where so many troops were spending their money, were infected -with this fever of success, of easy money, of the riches which rolled -in. Verdun was no exception to the rule. The citadel was choked with -troops: officers and privates, drinking and laughing. To be sure, when -the war goes well, there is no need to be austere. - -February reserved its own surprise. The short month, which amounts to -nothing at all, so short that it seems crippled, this one-armed month, -displayed in this particular year the malice of a dwarf. - -Suddenly the German line burst into flame. It was like a spark on a -train of powder. Twelve hundred cannon, perhaps more, crashed in chorus. - -“_Alerte!_ To arms!” - -Ah! Yes! Ground, hacked, mutilated, overrun, those easy-going papas, -the Territorials, fought the best they could; but the Argonne was -the accomplice of the Boche. The drive became irresistible. With -the shell-power of this massed artillery, the lines were broken and -obliterated. Under the storm of shells the trenches were levelled. -It was not an artillery battle, nor merely a violent attack. It was -rather an avalanche of explosives. The molten torrent, crackling with -sparks, fantastic, inhuman, swept all before it. All the massed Krupp -guns in diabolic fury spat their clots of flaming blood. The torn, -disembowelled earth leaped into the air and fell in dust. A bitter -smoke filled the air, dense on the plain and dense on the mountain -summit. Douaumont became a forge, Vaux was a fiery cyclone. Thavannes -was a scarlet glow, le Mort Homme was a continuous roar, and Verdun -heard the approaching thunder in apprehensive dread. - -At the call for reinforcements the regiments came in all haste, to bare -their breasts to the cannon. Fiercely the units clung to their ground, -placed their batteries, intrenched themselves, and offered stubborn -resistance. The enemy still advanced. The adversary was not an army -division but all Germany, with the dynasty, the Crown Prince, the old -Haseleer at their head. The defenders were again faced by the terrible -order, “Conquer or die,” as on the Marne and the Yser. Once more that -game was played. Once more it had the upper hand. Destiny, impassive, -looked on. - -Three kilometres of retreat brought the French to the Côte de Poivre. - -The Boche had orders to take, at all costs, the “strongest citadel of -France.” That success would mean the death of our country. It meant -all France exposed to the foe, Paris captured, Defeat. It meant Crime -triumphant, history violated, supremacy of brutal might, humanity’s -bonds reforged. It meant the flower of the Revolution crushed and -Liberty in chains. It meant the Kaiser’s boot on the neck of the world. - -“Do you wish aid?” came the message from England, already preparing to -send succor. France responded proudly: “No! I can hold my ground.” - -And she held it. The world knows it. - -An innumerable host, coated in dirty gray like a repulsive animal, -rushed on in its heavy, obstinate bravery; as an infuriated bull with -lowered head madly charges his foe, so the German brute in his blind -rage hurled himself toward us. In the path of the Hunnish Horde stood -French valor. THEY SHALL NOT PASS! Nor did they. But--what a struggle! - -All the slopes which form the heights of the Meuse and are the ramparts -of Gaul, resounded as a monster forge. There Vulcan had set up his -furnaces. Such a battle is too great to be recounted. It is the story -of Thavannes, whose immense tunnel of approach sheltered a whole -battalion at a time. It is the story of the fall of Douaumont; then the -siege of indomitable Vaux, dauntless, resisting, panting, quivering -like a drum. There the shells fall at the rate of ten per minute. -Raynal is commanding there: that is enough. Ten times the German hurled -his force against the fortifications, and ten times he fell back, -baffled. The garrison stood its ground in a furnace of the damned. New -men entered by a breach, followed a narrow path, found the postern -gate, and leaped in. For every man who came, came a shell. Overhead -twenty airplanes circled about, directing the fire, like vultures above -the eagle’s nest; while the cannon on the surrounding heights converged -their fire. - -Vaux! Heroic name, name never to be forgotten! Vaux, a rock burned -by acids, by powder, by the fires of hell. Vaux held out five days, -six days--eight days! The sky at night was a hot glow. The earth was -one continuous roar of explosions, enveloped in billows of smoke. -In that inferno men fought unto death. Trenches, shelters, stone, -and earthworks were wiped away by the shells; the battle left the -protection of the ground and swung into free space. - -The regiments were brought from the rear. They were supplied with -food and ammunition by a whole army of camions, which looked like an -immense serpent twisting along the road. Beyond Verdun the men entered -directly into the furnace. Their units melted in the very act of going -to the relief of their comrades at the firing-line. No matter! They -advanced, leaping from one shell-hole to another, up to the lines where -the survivors of the preceding regiments still held the assailant at -a distance. They were one man against ten. Of a hundred who set out, -only fifty arrived. They felt the reassurance given by the strength -of Vaux. Vaux hammered by blows--but Vaux still living, still French, -withstanding the tempest and defying the German. One felt there the -heart of steel in the fortress of rock. In addition to the battle all -about was the spectacle of a mass of masonry holding an army in check. - -Vaux fell. Only thirst ended its resistance. The enemy, stupefied to -count the handful of heroes who had thus held them at bay, rendered -the captives the highest honors. The Commandant Raynal kept his sword; -the Crown Prince, in humility before such glory, was glad to pay him -homage, and asked to be presented. - -Vaux fell, but Verdun was not taken. There huge shells fell -unceasingly. The German loves the easy targets: a cluster of houses, a -town, is an object hard to miss. In the town, then, the storm swept the -streets. Entire quarters went down in dust. Like Rheims, like Soissons, -like Ypres, like Liége, Verdun was the victim of the Huns. People took -refuge in the citadel, in its enormous subterranean chambers of massive -masonry. There, where the stone corridors were damp as cellars, night -and day both soldiers and civilians found shelter. There young mothers -nursed their babes, there people of all conditions lived as best they -could; there, underground, helter-skelter, all piled together. They -could hear the shells of the Hun falling on the city, the houses -crumbling, the wounded shrieking. - -All France and all the world had their eyes on Verdun the inviolable; -on Verdun surrounded by flames, in the vortex of action; on Verdun, -which did not weaken. Without respite, the Teutonic masses were hurled -to the assault. Like a sea of mud they poured upon the outposts of the -city. They were beaten down by grenades, shells, machine-guns, fire, -shot, and powder; and They did not pass! - -All about were scenes most thrilling. It would be impossible to recount -them all. We must choose only one or two. - -One day, then, of date unrecorded (Verdun held out eight months!), a -troop going up to the fortress of Thavannes found the railway below -and followed it. They came to the tunnel and entered, although it was -already much encumbered. In vain did the gendarme on guard try to -oppose their passage: the newcomers were too many. They numbered about -six hundred. Above them the battle raged. They were intending to stop -for breath, then go on up the slope and take their posts, where Death -awaited them. - -No! They will never go so far. They seek a reprieve for an instant in -the tunnel, but Death comes to meet them. In the long black cavern -are piles of ammunition in transit. There are soldiers, and wounded -men, and mules, and general confusion. Some one, man or beast (no one -knows which), hits a case of explosives. In the dark tube there is a -flash, an uproar, a cloud of smoke: four hundred bodies lie mangled -and scorched, as when the fire-damp explodes in the depth of a mine. -The living make their way out as best they can, leaving the dead and -wounded. The two hundred who escape reform their line, mount the hill, -enter the real furnace: this other episode did not count. It was an -extra, for good measure. The accident could not prevent the fulfilment -of the task before them. What were left of the battalion went where -their order sent them. Four hundred fell on the way. Too bad. Orders -are orders: they are carried out by the remnant.... - -This is only one instance in a thousand. - - * * * * * - -We all had a great curiosity to see the famous precincts where the -strife raged so violently. It was almost with joy, therefore, that we -received our call. The day the order arrived the news ran quickly -through the ranks: “We are going over there, boys!” “Over there” meant -Verdun. That was understood. We hastened to get ready; we arranged -knapsacks; put our affairs in order. The vans were loaded, the horses -hitched. In the canteens we drank to Victory, to the Return, to Good -Luck. Eyes glistened behind the smoke of pipes, and we jostled and -laughed. Even those who feared the terrible adventure and dreaded death -concealed their uneasiness and cloaked it with smiles. On the other -hand, many danced for joy, happy to have a part in the fight, to be in -full action. - -All together, pell-mell, happy and unhappy, we were punctually on the -spot appointed for the automobiles to receive us when evening arrived. -The entire convoy waited behind a hill. The drivers, muffled up in -pelts, chatted while waiting for us. They looked fantastic in the dim -light. Only two or three lanterns winked and blinked in the night. One -was dimly aware of a file of conveyances lined up along the edge of the -road, like great beasts asleep; the going to and fro of the officers -of the convoy, and their colloquy with the colonel. It was all more -felt than seen. One could distinguish only shadows; one heard the tramp -of men, the dull murmur of low-voiced talking, sometimes an exclamation -or a stifled oath. - -Then orders were transmitted by cyclists. The first battalion set out. -Hurriedly each section climbed into the autos. These ought to have -carried twenty men each, but twenty-five and even thirty were piled -in, somehow, with their arms, their luggage, their knapsacks, their -side-bags, their canteens. As soon as a company was loaded in the -captain gave the order to go. One by one the cars fell into line. The -motors coughed and plunged forward like a dog unleashed. Then ten more -machines received a new company, and departed in their turn. They also -were swallowed up by the night. - -When my turn came, by some chance I was assigned to an auto with the -officers, where we were much less crowded than in the large vehicles -of the privates. I therefore expected to gain some further information -concerning our destination. In this I was disappointed, as the officers -knew very little about it; besides, from the time the motor started -and the auto was on its way no further conversation was possible. We -could not hear each other, even when nearly shouting, and we had enough -to do in resisting the bumps which threw us against each other. We -inhaled the dust: a thick, heavy dust, raised by the wheels. It soon -covered us completely. One could feel it coating his face, and small -grains of sand rolled between one’s fingers. We could not see, for the -curtains were drawn down tightly, and it was very dark. We travelled as -in an interminable tunnel, with no light whatever, with no knowledge of -what we were passing or of the country we were traversing. Sometimes -there were sudden stops. The quickly set brakes brought us to a -standstill with a jerk. We asked the driver: “What is the matter? Where -are we?” He scarcely answered, for he knew no more than we. His order -was to follow the auto in front of him, and to keep his machine twenty -metres behind, that he might avoid a collision in case of a too-sudden -stop. He followed his orders, and knew nothing more. He did not even -know the road we were travelling. The car which led the procession -carried the chief officer of the convoy. Probably he was the only man -besides our colonel who knew our destination. - -Thus we journeyed four hours before dawn. As the pale light invaded -our rolling apartment little by little, we saw how completely we were -covered with dust. We were white from head to feet, like a miller -dredged in his flour. Our clothing was white, our hair, our faces, -our arms. We appeared grotesquely like veritable old men. We looked -each other over and laughed. Then, as there was nothing more to fear -from the dust, a lieutenant raised a curtain. We found ourselves on -a winding road in a charming, gently-rolling country. Small trees -formed tiny groves on the hillsides, and the whole landscape was quite -different from that we had just left. - -Suddenly the captain made a gesture. He had perceived an airplane, -soaring directly over us in a most disquieting manner. It was flying -too high for us to distinguish, even with glasses, whether it was -French or German; but its manœuvres were suspicious. It had command -of the road, and seemed to be preparing to fire on the convoy. In -fact, that was exactly what happened, a few minutes later, when the -flyer suddenly came lower and opened fire with his mitrailleuse. The -automobiles increased their speed and lengthened the distance from one -to another. Nevertheless, the aviator could move much faster than could -we, and he circled above us like a vulture over his prey. Fortunately, -he had no bombs, and his aim was too uncertain to inflict much damage. -As it was, he wounded several men, and would have wounded many more -if the special guns for the purpose had not opened fire on him, or -if three French planes had not appeared on the horizon. At sight of -them he made a hasty escape, amid our shouts and jeers. Our wounded -were rapidly cared for by a surgeon, and shortly after were placed in -the first field-hospital encountered on the road, amid the ruins of a -village. This village gave us the first knowledge of our whereabouts. -We were entering the valley of the Woëvre, and Verdun lay beyond the -hills. The roll of the cannon had become audible. - -After a short halt we set out again. This time we entered the field -of action. It was evidenced by the constantly increasing number of -convoys encountered. Long lines of camions were climbing toward the -battle, loaded with munitions or food; or, like our own, with men. The -road became very wide, encroaching some distance into the fields. Some -soldiers, in the stream of conveyances, threw pebbles under our wheels -without as much as lifting their eyes to look at us: they had seen so -much already that the spectacle of troops going under fire interested -them not at all. - -With our advance the scene changed rapidly. We saw some autos -overturned in a ditch and burning. Some dead horses stretched -their rigid legs in the air. Under some tents men bustled about -with stretchers, instruments, and boxes. These were the temporary -dressing-stations, where the men wounded on the route were cared -for: any who had met with accidents from vehicles, as well as those -who had been hit by shell-splinters--for we had entered the zone of -projectiles, and stray splinters reached even that far. The scene -became indescribable. It was a mob, where one felt nevertheless a -discipline, a sense of regulated, methodical order. We were in the -side-wings of the battle, in the midst of its movable stage-settings, -among the stage-hands, machinists, electricians, and supernumeraries, -whose activities are unseen by the public, but who make it possible for -the performance to go on and be brilliant. Long trains of horse-drawn -caissons followed each other at full speed. Field-ambulances, marked -with large red crosses, slipped into the moving stream. Vehicles of -every sort, gray with dust or mud-bespattered, rumbled, creaked, rolled -along, stopped, started, stuck in the ruts, freed themselves. The -moving line looked like the folds of a fabulous serpent. - -The voice of the cannon increased in power and volume. It was like -hearing an orchestra of inferno. The ear received only a tremendous, -continuous roar, like the rolling of thunder which never ceases. - -We could see the earth tossed high like a geyser when a shell struck. -We breathed the pungent odor of the battle. We were getting into it -now. Most of the houses were demolished. The buildings still standing -all bore the marks of war, with great ragged holes in walls and roof, -with stains of powder and fire. Enough of them remained in close rows -to indicate the streets leading into the town. We crossed the Meuse and -found ourselves in the city. It appeared deserted. We looked curiously -up and down the streets, without finding any sign of life whatever, -except an occasional hurrying soldier, a cyclist, or an automobile -racing at full speed between the silent houses. We made some détours, -crossed squares, and skirted gardens. The whole city lay open to our -view; and above the roofs the massive silhouette of the citadel spread -its protecting wings. - -The locking of wheels gave us a jolt: we had arrived. Glad to tread -the ground once more, we leaped down and entered an abandoned factory, -where we were to camp. The windows had long since lost their glass, -but the roof remained. It was a fragile protection against shells, -but quite adequate against wind and rain. Along the walls was stacked -dirty straw, broken to crumbs by the many sleeping troops. That was our -bed. It would be for many their last sleep before the sleep of death, -for the orders came immediately: we would mount to the first lines at -nightfall. - -The march into the battle was at first simple. We advanced in the -descending shadows, we left the town behind. Before us the heavens -were streaked with the light of explosives. We marched by sections, in -silence. We marched straight ahead, with heart beating quickly, mouth -dry, brain a blank. In spite of myself, I set my teeth and gripped my -hands. We could not distinguish the road we trod, but were dimly aware -sometimes of trees stripped bare, of low ruins, of puddles of water, of -general débris. We simply followed the man in front, scarcely turning -the head when a flock of shells fell at the right, or left, or ahead. -We only knew we were in the zone where they fell. We heard the hoarse -shriek of the projectiles high in the air, and the chorus of cannon -re-echoed in each breast. We no longer felt the chill of the night air. -We knew not if we breathed. The farther we went, the more difficult -did the walking become. We stumbled over the uneven ground, ploughed -up by the shells; but we were not yet in the place of torment, and the -missiles spared us. We passed many moving shadows: couriers, orderlies, -estafettes, officers, wounded, we knew not what. They were only dark -objects moving about in the night, outlined by the glow of the -projectiles; instantly swallowed again by the shadows and giving place -to others. We knew nothing about them. We knew only one great fact: -that we were always advancing toward the fire; we were approaching the -first lines, where the conflagration raged at white heat. - -Then--we were in the midst of the shells. The frenzy was on. The -wounded cried out. We held together the best we could. We entered -chaos. Whirlwinds of explosives enveloped us. They were above, around, -beneath. The very earth leaped up and lashed our faces and hands. -Violent gusts of hot wind shook us. We ran. We joined some other -comrades. We could not proceed in lines, but moved in groups. There -were no longer any usable trenches. They were torn open, crushed in, -filled up, making any advance in them impossible. Therefore we marched -in the open, and we advanced. We would leap into a shell-crater, catch -our breath for a second, look out for another hole, and hurl ourselves -into it as quickly as possible. The rain of steel enveloped everything, -in a tumult unbelievable. We scarcely knew if we lived; we certainly -thought no more about death. The fixed, absolute, imperious idea, -the only surviving thing in our consciousness, was to arrive at our -destination, where we could give our service. We felt that we were near -the spot and must attain it. - -We often lost our way. The officers looked for the road, asked the -direction, shouted orders. We understood as best we could. We ran at -full speed, threw ourselves flat on the ground, sprang up and ran -again. We knew only one thing: we _must_ succeed in reaching our -appointed post, we must reach the firing-line: we could not stop, we -could not rest, until we found the location of the regiment we were -sent to relieve. - -For three hours we plunged across the jagged fields. The ground rose -and fell and rose again. Sometimes, behind a pile of earth, we found -some men. We shouted some questions. They knew nothing to tell us, as -they were not of the regiment which we sought. They were out of breath, -like ourselves; or they were wounded, or they had just been relieved, -or they had just arrived and were themselves seeking their post, or -they were hopelessly lost and joined in with us. If they were officers, -they questioned us: - -“What regiment?” “Where are you going?” “What division?” “What army?” -“Have you seen such and such a regiment?” “No.” “Yes, at the right.” -“Over at the left.” “Make room there!” - -Some ambulances charged past. We saw some first-aid stations in full -operation, with wounded shrieking all about. Some couriers, out of -breath, shouted instructions: “Go straight on. Your regiment is two -hundred metres from here, near the canal.” - -Finally we arrived, under such a hail of bullets, machine fire, and -shrapnel that we were not even conscious of danger. We found some men, -half buried in holes, who went away and left us. They melted into the -night. - -We had reached our post on the firing-line, in an unknown plain, which -seemed to be flooded with dead bodies, as a fallow field is a riot -of corn-flowers and nettles. We had no idea how we had succeeded in -reaching the spot. - -There was nothing more to do but fight and in our turn, wait for the -Relief, or for Death. - - - - -XI - -THE TOUCH OF DEATH - - -I have no intention, in writing this work, to describe the entire war. -It would be an impossible task, and I do not suppose that any author -who is a contemporary of the immense tragedy would have the presumption -to attempt it. To undertake such a task with success, it would be -necessary to wait until many years had effaced the secondary details, -leaving in the foreground only the principal facts. Then, too, each -person sees the war in his own way, from his own point of view, and -can relate neither the ensemble nor the particular detail after the -same fashion as his neighbor. It is all a question of individuality in -handling such a subject. That which one is able to tell is merely a -résumé of certain brief instants lived in the furnace; in long waits, -which are told by a few words, but which lasted for months. We must, -then, leave to the future historians the literary task of enclosing in -a single book the story of the events which have upset and transformed -the world; as Homer’s Iliad in its brief pages narrates the War of -Troy, which lasted ten years. All that the writer of the present day -may depict are separate minutes of the time in which we lived, and -the sensations of a man who is only one of the hundred millions of -combatants. Therefore I cannot add much to what I have told concerning -Verdun. - -We remained there four days. So short a time! and yet in this brief -space a regiment melted away as the iron melts in the crucible. Four -days under fire, and two battalions disappeared. When our relief came, -scarcely one-third of our number survived; and of that third not one -could tell clearly just what had passed. We had lived, though we knew -not how, under the rain of steel, of flames, of flying earth, of -splintering shells, of breaking stones; knocked about, thrown to the -earth, rising only to fall again; eating little, drinking less; without -sleep, without rest, battered and torn, but still clinging to our post. - -Automobiles had brought us, automobiles took us away. We were gray -with dust when we came; we went away looking like blocks of earth. -Nothing about our uniforms was recognizable. Mud and clay blotched our -faces and hands, matted our hair and beards, stiffened our shirts, -weighed down our clothing. We had all grown old. Our eyes were sunken, -our features drawn, our lassitude was extreme. Nevertheless, we almost -ran when permitted to go away. We knew that the danger pursued us, -and we mustered enough energy to escape. Again we ascended the hills, -descended the slopes; again we saw the same spectacles we had seen in -coming. It was our turn to cry to the arriving troops: “Count your -bones, boys, it is getting hot!” - -Yes, it was getting hot! The surging flood of Germans beat upon the -French fortress like sea-breakers upon a rocky coast. The uproar -increased. It seemed that the utmost limits of the possible must be -reached, but each day those limits receded. Each day more cannon -crashed; each day the explosions were faster and more furious; each day -the storm augmented. One made his escape as from a horrible nightmare. -Our ears hummed. Our nerves, strained to the breaking-point, vibrated -and quivered like the strings of a violin. We could have dropped in our -tracks from suffering and weakness. - -However, an immense pride sustained our waning physical force. -Mud-bespattered, thin, repulsive, we resummoned our stamina when we -heard a command, at the edge of a ruined village; a general was looking -at us. Instantly, backs straightened, heads lifted; bayonets were -fixed on gun-barrels. Our troop, panting with exhaustion, but proud, -impeccable, filed past that man, our chief, whose clear eyes were fixed -upon us. We understood each other. Without words, without speech, our -faces told him, “We have given our lives; ‘They’ have not passed!” and, -without a word, his look responded: “I know it.” - -We had our reward. Somehow our physical pains disappeared. Our effort, -our sacrifices, our fears, our wounds, had been of service; the baffled -enemy was stumbling without progressing, was crumbling away. Verdun -held, and behind her protecting arm France still lived. - -Just the same, the time had come to seek the automobiles. We could -not hold control of ourselves except when on our feet. The instant -we stopped moving about, the instant we were seated, or reclining, -no matter in what position we relaxed for a single second, we were -asleep. Neither jolts, nor knocks, nor sudden stops interrupted our -giant sleep. We slept without a remnant of physical sensation. We -slept violently, as heavy and inert as dead men. We slept with all -our body, all our heart and soul; fists clinched, mouths open; shaken -about, wholly unconscious, carried away less like men than like parcels -of cloth, earth, flesh, and accoutrement. We no longer had names or -personality. We were nothing but clods, utterly at the end of our -vitality. - -Thus we crossed the country, passing bivouacs where troops were -encamped, roads where convoys were mounting toward the battle-line, -forests where cavalry were awaiting their call. The noise of the -cannon diminished to a distant rumble, became faint, and was lost. We -slept on. Occasionally, a man stretched himself, changed position, and -plunged again into oblivion like the rest. Some, in their dreams, cried -out disconnected words, mumbled, or wept. A madman in my carriage -suddenly leaped out and plunged into the blackness of the night. He -was not missed until the next day. Three camions had passed over him, -leaving him nothing but a mangled rag on the road. - -At last we reached our destination, and came to life again. A camp -was ready to receive us--a camp so new and fresh we thought it almost -elegant. There were Adrian barracks[G] of unpainted spruce, with water -for drinking and water for washing; with coffee prepared, fresh bread, -hot soup, and abundance of clean straw. We knew that the horrible -inferno was at an end for us; at evening a train would take us each to -his own family to enjoy a furlough. - -To come out of the abyss of hell and arrive at his own hearthside is -an emotion too deep for a mortal man. He knows not if he is living in -reality or in a dream. He goes on mechanically. He is hairy, barbarous, -dirty, hideous. He is black, and torn, and bruised, and ragged. He -reeks of powder, blood, and earth. He trembles. He is conscious of a -sensation of joy--he feels it without comprehending it. - -Before long the train will be in the station. His wife will be there -with his mother, his father, and others who are dear. They will take -him in their arms. They will hold him, they will press him to their -hearts. He will feel the sweet thrill of their touch; he will receive -their caresses, will hear the familiar voices. His heart beats fast. A -feeling of faintness sweeps over him; he puts his hand before his eyes. -He speaks to his neighbor. He laughs. He drinks a little, he smokes. -He suddenly feels smothered. It must be his great-coat which bothers -him; he pulls it off. He holds imaginary conversations with himself. -He gesticulates. He recounts what he has seen, what he has done, what -he has said; the death of his comrades, the frightful wounds of his -dearest friends. He strives to classify his recollections; he yawns, -he gives it up. The battle still crowds his brain, obsesses him, holds -him, fills his entire consciousness. The other men are like himself. -Some laugh, some sing, some sleep. - -The special train rolls away--passes stations, traverses pleasant -country, arrives at towns, whistles, snorts, runs smoothly, flies over -the rails, carries him on and on. The man is dumb with amazement: a -field where reapers are binding the grain enchants him; a glimpse of -a garden where a woman is hanging up washing moves him to tenderness. -A house intact astonishes him. The panorama passes before his window, -is gone, is repeated. It is not yet the country, the province, where -he was born, but that is approaching. Familiar names are seen at the -stopping-places along the track. In an hour the train will reach -his station. He can no longer sit still. He rises, fusses with his -clothing, sits down, gets up again. The train no longer is going fast -enough. It is stopping. What for? Now it goes again. Good. There it -is stopping again! This is deadly. Villainous train! Villainous trip! -Villainous life! - -At last it is his own country, his own town, his own station ... and -the train is stopping! Yes, the family are all there, running to meet -him. The man leaves the carriage; he falls into their arms; he leans on -their shoulders. Tears are on his cheeks; his mind is benumbed, he can -only look. There is father, there is mother, there is wife and child. - -“Well, well! How are you?” - -“Ah, yes, all right,”--somewhat abstractedly. - -He pulls himself together, recovers his strength and composure. He -stands erect, proudly. He is bruised, stained, and dirty; a dreadful -object, at once repulsive and sublime. He is in the midst of his -doting, distracted family, who forget all the questions they had -planned to ask about himself and the war, and can only ask: “Are you -hungry? are you thirsty? are you warm?” He does not know if he is or -not. He feels no need of anything. He goes with them. He recognizes the -land, the road, the trees, and the houses. He breathes deeply. What -delicious air! He is hurried along. As he passes the neighbors exclaim: - -“There he is!” - -He is safe and whole, he is brave and noble. He wears on his breast the -Croix de Guerre. He is petted. He is washed and cleaned and mended and -taken out for a promenade. He tries to tell his story, but he tells it -badly: he has not the words for it. He knows not how to express all -the misery endured, the bodily suffering, the horror of the battle. He -tells little fragments of stories, and already he is forgetting the -most terrible features. The struggle which was beyond all comprehension -seems small when he tries to recount it. It becomes nothing more than -a local fight with grenades, a patch of ground occupied in the night, -a brook crossed--a thing of shadow and of mystery. It is no longer -grandiose. It really was a catastrophe: it becomes a mere fist fight. -However, they listen, they ask questions. He must repeat and go into -detail. And he, who has escaped the jaws of death, who by a miracle -has come out of the destruction, who feels with strangeness the new -pulses of life, he runs about to see his friends, he shakes the burden -from his thought, he amuses himself--and finally is aware that the time -has passed like a flash of lightning and he must again depart. Then -the anguish again lays hold upon him; for that which he could not tell -clearly he knows only too well. No fibre of his being has forgotten it. -His flesh creeps at the thought of entering again the bath of blood, -of noise, of war; the long vigils in the trench, the whistle of the -shells, the infantry attack. - -He goes to join his regiment. He is loaded with delicacies, tobacco, -and presents. He has new socks on his feet and a new sweater on his -back. He is made over, he is a man again. He is sad, but he goes: there -is no other way. - -Once more he is at the front with all its horrors. He is in a sector -of great commotion, where ruins pile upon ruins; where the very earth -under his feet explodes; where a fresh drive is being pushed; where -no minute is without its danger. There is the patrol toward the -enemy’s lines, the life underground, the sky shot with airplanes, the -shrapnel overhead and the mine under feet. There is the torpedo coming -with its ugly growl; there are all the changing forms in which death -beckons--the Grim Monster which prowls and shrieks; there is the agony -renewed. - -The attack is resumed. The attack, yes. “C’est la Guerre.” There is no -longer, as in former days, a battle of a single day, wherein one is -either victor or vanquished, where the outcome is decisive. The attack -of to-day is one of the rôles in the drama of life, like being a -soldier. Yes, it is life itself. - -We made an attack, then, on a certain day, toward Mont Cornillet, -which stood out before us like a volcano of chalk. The German and -French artillery were crossing their shell-fire. Below, the French were -holding. The position was hardly tenable after it was gained, and we -were trying to enlarge and strengthen it a bit. My regiment, entirely -reformed and equipped, formed a part of the advancing force. Each man, -grown wise from his experience in war, could estimate the distance, -and the effect of the firing. It was going well. It was hard, but -the firing was good. Perhaps we would suffer less this time than on -former occasions. Perhaps once more we would return alive. But then, -what matter? One is a fatalist in such moments. Destiny will decide. -A man is nothing, can do nothing. He is a mere atom, a drop of water -in the ocean, a grain of sand in the desert. He goes where the wind -drives him. If he is lucky, he comes back alive; if he is unlucky, he -returns to the bosom of the earth. It is all very simple, clear, and -clean-cut. The sacrifice was made long since. Once for all, the very -first time, he has said: “What will come, will come.” He has left his -home, he has marched, he has fought, he has suffered. Some men have -been killed, others only await their turn. Infinite Fatality holds them -in her hand. Those who believe in God, and that God brings solace, have -their comfort always with them. They piously attend religious service -when they can, wherever the chaplain sets up his altar: in a crushed-in -chapel of a demolished village, or in a barn without a roof, or in the -trench itself. The man who believes in nothing has no greater fear of -death. - -Certainly, were it not for the war, one would have lived otherwise. -One would have lived in a world of work, with its pains and pleasures, -founding a family and rearing his children. One would have lived as -lived his father; one would have had a wife like his mother; one would -have pursued happiness. But this dream is one of peace. Now, “C’est la -Guerre.” The giant struggle passes the control of men, and its unknown -end is still far off. One no longer fights merely for his home, his -land, his own well-being. One feels that these things have become -dwarfed in the tremendous world tragedy, and that at the foundation it -has to do with great principles, ideals, and human destiny. - -The soldier in action does not see so far. The immediate, the concrete, -demand his close scrutiny; but he feels that the war is waged for all -the human race, and that his blood will not flow in vain. Emancipation -is coming. Man is throwing aside autocratic authority; he has -reached his age of majority and wishes to be free. Society impels -and guides him. He is no longer the soldier of a people, he is the -soldier of a principle. He fights for the triumph of ideals that are -noble, ideals that are just, ideals that are free. He assists at the -ghastly death-throes of an autocracy which can live only through his -enslavement. He knows the price of a revolution: some men must die that -others may live. He accepts it. He knows not just how great must be his -sacrifice. He knows only that he is resigned. - -I saw all this among my comrades. I gathered it in their discussions: -for we talk, at the front. The squad argues, reads the newspapers, -makes its comments, follows the trend of events when it can. But--when -the “Coup de Chien” comes; when the unit enters an engagement; when -one fills his cartridge-box or receives his case of grenades; when -one goes over the top, to storm the enemy’s parapets and rush to -the assault, all else disappears, is wiped out. There remains only -exaltation and the act of the moment--a sacrament. - -The zero hour is passed from one to another in advance. The attack will -be at ten o’clock. A half-hour before, each man is in his place. The -artillery fire is redoubled. The German knows that his last minutes -have come. As for ourselves, we are attentive and impatient. The -anguish of the drive puts our nerves on a tension; eyes take on a hard -look, hands grip convulsively. One wishes he could start, leap to the -surface, cross No Man’s Land on the run, and drop into the opposite -trench. The half-hour drags on slowly. - -The hour strikes. With one leap, furiously, the first wave bounds -forward, spreads, and crosses the intervening space. The second line -follows. We of the next line look and listen. They cry out--they go -on--they are running--they arrive! We start. The others are already -upon the German. The grenades crackle and snap. The machine-guns spit, -the airplanes hum, the shells burst. Forward, forward! We run at full -speed. Each knows his rôle. Each knows his act, his allotted piece of -work. Each is strangely lucid. The movement is admirable. All is going -well, everything is working out with precision. We will gain our point. -With an infallible glance the soldier knows the outcome, and in that -moment he judges his chief without error, without appeal. - -The trench is taken. The shelters are crushed in, the dead are lying -all about. Pale and haggard prisoners run toward us, huddled together -with up-lifted arms to give themselves up: - -“Gut Franzose! Kamarad! Polones, Polones!” - -They are Poles: big and little, tall and short; a whole troop. They -shrink, now. They would like to run. They are anxious to get away -from the place, for the miserable creatures cling to life and fear -the shells, their own shells, the German shells, which follow each -other in gusts. We drive them on. They go as captives. Three pass, a -Frenchman follows, then three more prisoners and another Frenchman, -with gun ready. The procession follows the wrecked trench, leaps over -the débris, reaches the open space between our lines. Now there is -less danger. The prisoners are parcelled off by twenties and are led -to the rear. They stop at the first post where wounded are cared for. -The stretchers are taken up and carried by the same men who made the -wounds, by these men now quite docile, who, dressed in dirty gray made -still more dirty by the ground, march with their burden, fearful, but -at heart happy: for them the war is over. - -It will continue for their conquerors who still live. Death has once -more made her choice. The prisoners are safe. Those others who took -them will die perhaps to-morrow, on this same ground or on another. -Satiated to-day, the Grim Monster is reserving them: they are kept for -a coming feast of death. - -How well they know it! but they care not at all. They are tired and -happy. They wander about the captured trench and gather up little -nothings: fragments of clothing, pieces of arms, splinters of -cartridges. They go to and fro; or, impassive, they choose a corner and -go to sleep, indifferent to the shells, to the battle which is dying -out; indifferent to to-day and to-morrow. - -They know their task is accomplished. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - - -[A] The trial of Mme. Caillaux for the murder of the editor of _Le -Figaro_.--TRANSLATOR. - -[B] “Les compagnons--ceux avec qui on rompt le pain.” - -[C] The banquette is about eighteen inches above the pathway at the -bottom of the trench. The men stand here when firing or when on -guard.--TRANSLATORS’ NOTE. - -[D] The trenches were about seven feet deep. On the forward -side was a step, or ledge, on which the men could stand when -shooting.--TRANSLATORS’ NOTE. - -[E] It has been found that water must not touch the skin for many hours -after suffering a gas attack. The chemical action of the water rots -the flesh. For the same reason the “poilu” is now clean-shaven: the -poison of gas remains in a beard for days, and perspiration adds to the -dangers of inhalation.--TRANSLATOR. - -[F] Literally, “I am gnawing them away.” - -[G] Adrian barracks are made in sections, which enables them to be put -up or taken down quickly.--TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 68301 *** diff --git a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/68301-h.htm b/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/68301-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 4786e3d..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/68301-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6522 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title> - Under the German shells, by Emmanuel Bourcier—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.tdr {text-align: right;} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; -} - - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} -.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} - -div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} -div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} - -.xxxlarge {font-size: 200%;} - -.large {font-size: 125%;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} - -.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - - -p.drop-cap { - text-indent: -0.35em; -} -p.drop-cap2 { - text-indent: -0.75em; -} -p.drop-cap:first-letter, p.drop-cap2:first-letter -{ - float: left; - margin: 0em 0.15em 0em 0em; - font-size: 250%; - line-height:0.85em; - text-indent: 0em; -} -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap, .x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap2 { - text-indent: 0em; -} -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap:first-letter, .x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap2:first-letter -{ - float: none; - margin: 0; - font-size: 100%; -} - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - padding: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 68301 ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<h1>UNDER THE GERMAN SHELLS</h1> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_0"></span> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i006.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="caption">The author at Camp Grant.<br /> - -The American soldier is Divisional Interpreter Umberto-Gagliasso.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<p><span class="xxxlarge">UNDER THE<br /> -GERMAN SHELLS</span></p> - -<p>BY<br /> -<span class="large">EMMANUEL BOURCIER</span><br /> - -MEMBER OF THE FRENCH MILITARY COMMISSION TO AMERICA</p> - -<p>TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH<br /> -BY<br /> -GEORGE NELSON HOLT<br /> -AND<br /> -MARY R. HOLT</p> - -<p><i>WITH PORTRAITS</i></p> - -<p><span class="large">NEW YORK<br /> -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> -1918</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1918, by</span><br /> -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> -<br /> -Published May, 1918</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_publogo.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">PREFACE</h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Life</span> is a curious thing. In time of war Life -is itself the extraordinary and Death seems the -only ordinary thing possible for men.</p> - -<p>In time of war man is but a straw thrown -into the wide ocean. If the tossing waves do -not engulf him he can do no more than float -on the surface. God alone knows his destiny.</p> - -<p>This book, <i>Under the German Shells</i>, is another -instance of war’s uncertainties. Sent by my -government to America to join the new American -army as instructor, I wrote the greater -part of the book on the steamer which brought -me. The reader will, perhaps, read it when -I am dead; for another steamer is about to -carry me back to France, where I shall again -be “under the German shells,” before the book -will see the light.</p> - -<p>This is the second work which I have written -during the war. The first, <i>Gens du Front</i>, appeared -in France while I was in America. I -wrote it in the trenches. The second will appear<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[vi]</span> -in America when I shall be in France. -The father will not be present at the birth of -either of his two children. “C’est la Guerre.”</p> - -<p>My only wish is that the work may be of -use. I trust it may, for every word is sincere -and true. That it may render the greatest -service, I wish to give you, my reader, a share -in my effort: a part of the money which you -pay for the book will be turned over to the -French Red Cross Society, to care for the -wounded and assist the widows whom misfortune -has overtaken while I have been writing. -Thus you will lighten the burden of those -whom the scourge has stricken.</p> - -<p>I hope that you will find in the work some -instruction—you who are resolutely preparing -to defend Justice and Right and to avenge the -insults of the infamous Boche.</p> - -<p>I have no other wishes than these for my -work, and that victory may be with our united -arms.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Emmanuel Bourcier.</span></p> - - - -<p>     <span class="smcap">Camp Grant</span>, December 16, 1917.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - - -<table> - - -<tr><td class="tdr"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td> THE MOBILIZATION</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td> THE INVASION</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21"> 21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td> THE MARNE</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50"> 50</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td> WAITING</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93"> 93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td> LA PIOCHE</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101"> 101</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td> THE GAS</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120"> 120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td> RHEIMS</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_134"> 134</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td> DISTRACTIONS</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_148"> 148</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td> THE BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE     </td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166"> 166</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td> VERDUN</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_177"> 177</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td> THE TOUCH OF DEATH</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_200"> 200</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -</div> - - -<table> -<tr><td>The author at Camp Grant</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_0"> <i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> - -<tr><td>Emmanuel Bourcier at the front in the sector of Rheims -in 1915        </td><td class="tdr"> <i>Facing page</i> <a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> - -<p class="ph2">Under the German Shells</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">I<br /> - - -<small>THE MOBILIZATION</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">ONLY those who were actors in the -great drama of the mobilization of -July, 1914, in France, can at this time -appreciate clearly all its phases. No picture, -however skilful the hand which traces it, can -give in full its tragic grandeur and its impassioned -beauty.</p> - -<p>Every man who lived through this momentous -hour of history regarded its development -from a point of view peculiar to himself. According -to his situation and environment he -experienced sensations which no other could -entirely share. Later there will exist as many -accounts, verbal or written, of this unique -event as there were witnesses. From all these -recitals will grow up first the tradition, then -the legend. And so our children will learn<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> -a story of which we, to-day, are able to grasp -but little. This will be a narrative embodying -the historic reality, as the Iliad, blending -verity and fable, brings down to us the -glowing chronicle of the Trojan War. Nevertheless, -one distinct thing will dominate the -ensemble of these diverse accounts; that is, -that the war originated from a German provocation, -for no one of Germany’s adversaries -thought of war before the ultimatum to Serbia -burst like a frightful thunderclap.</p> - -<p>At this period there existed in Europe, and -perhaps more in France than elsewhere, a -vague feeling that a serious crisis was approaching. -A sense of uneasiness permeated the national -activities and weighed heavily on mind -and heart. As the gathering storm charges -the air with electricity and gives a feeling of -oppression, so the war, before breaking forth, -alarmed men and created a sensation of fear, -vague, yet terrifying.</p> - -<p>To tell the truth, it had been felt for a long -time, even in the lowest strata of the French -people, that Germany was desirous of provoking -war. The Moroccan affair and the -incidents in Alsace, especially that of Saverne,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -made clear to men of every political complexion -the danger hanging over the heads of all. No -one, however, was willing to believe what -proved to be the reality. Each, as far as possible, -minimized the menace, refused to accept -its verity, and trusted that some happy chance -would, at the last moment, discover a solution.</p> - -<p>For myself, I must admit this was the case. -Although my profession was one that called -me to gather on all subjects points of information -which escaped the ordinary observer, -in common with the rest I allowed my optimism -to conceal the danger, and tried always to -convince myself that my new-found happiness -need fear no attack. I had “pitched my tent.” -At least, I believed I had. After having circled -the globe, known three continents and breathed -under the skies of twenty lands, my wanderlust -was satiated and I tried to assure myself -that my life henceforth was fixed; that nothing -should again oblige me to resume the march -or turn my face to adventure.</p> - -<p>Alas! human calculations are of little weight -before the imperious breath of destiny.</p> - -<p>I closed my eyes, as did all my countrymen;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -but to shut out the storm was impossible. -Mingled in all the currents of public -events I felt the menacing tempest and, helpless, -I regarded the mounting thunder-clouds. -All showed the dark path of the future and -the resistless menace of 1914.</p> - -<p>I see again the Paris of that day: that -fevered Paris, swayed by a thousand passions, -where the mob foresaw the storm, where -clamors sprang up from every quarter of the -terrible whirlpool of opinions, where clashed so -many interests and individuals. Ah! that -Paris of July, 1914, that Paris, tumultuous, -breathless, seeing the truth but not acknowledging -it; excited by a notorious trial<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> and -alarmed by the assassination of Sarajevo; -only half reassured by the absence of the President -of the republic, then travelling in Russia; -that Paris on which fell, blow after blow, so -many rumors sensational and conflicting.</p> - -<p>In the street the tension of life was at the -breaking-point. In the home it was scarcely -less. Events followed each other with astonishing -rapidity. First came the ultimatum<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -to Serbia. On that day I went to meet a friend -at the office of the newspaper edited by Clemenceau, -and I recall the clairvoyant words -of the great statesman:</p> - -<p>“It means war within a month.”</p> - -<p>Words truly prophetic, but to which at that -moment I did not attach the importance they -merited.</p> - -<p>War! War in our century! It was unbelievable. -It seemed impossible. It was the -general opinion that again, as in so many crises, -things would be arranged. One knew that in -so many strained situations diplomacy and -the government had found a solution. Could -it be that this time civilization would fail?</p> - -<p>However, as the days rolled on the anxiety -became keener. One still clung to the hope -of a final solution, but one began little by little -to fear the worst. In the Chamber of Deputies -the nervousness increased, and in the corridors -the groups discussed only the ominous -portent of the hour. In the newspapers the -note of reassurance alternated with the tone -of pessimism. The tempest mounted.</p> - -<p>At night, when the dinner-hour came, I returned -to my young wife. I found her calm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -as yet, and smiling, but she insistently demanded -the assurance that I would accompany -her to the seaside at the beginning of the vacation. -She had never before asked it with such -insistence. She knew that, in spite of my desire, -it was impossible for me to be absent so -long a time, and other years she had resigned -herself to leaving with her baby some weeks -before I should lay aside my work. Generally -I joined her only a fortnight before her return -to Paris. This time a presentiment tortured -her far more than she would admit. She made -me repeat a score of times my promise to rejoin -her at the earliest possible moment. In -spite of my vows she could not make up her -mind to go, and postponed from day to day -our separation. At last I had almost to compel -her to leave; to conduct her to the train -with a display of gentle authority. She was -warned by an instinct stronger than all my -assurances. I did not see her again until thirteen -months later.</p> - -<p>Abruptly the storm broke. It came with -the suddenness of a thunderclap. The happenings -of this period are a part of history. -It is possible, however, to review them briefly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>It was announced that the President of -the republic, abandoning his intended visit to -the King of Denmark, would return precipitately -to Paris, just as the Kaiser, terminating -abruptly his cruise along the Norwegian coast, -had returned to Berlin.</p> - -<p>I went to the station curious to witness this -historic return. The approaches were black -with people, and an unusual force of police -protected the entrance. The interior was decorated -as usual with carpets and green plants, -but most unusual was the throng there -gathered. One noticed, in addition to the -numerous officials, many notables little accustomed -to going out of their way to see -affairs of this sort. I still see clearly the gray-clad -figure of M. Edmond Rostand, the distinguished -author of <i>Cyrano de Bergerac</i>; the -eager face of M. Maurice Barrès, and many -others.</p> - -<p>The presidential train arrived precisely at -the announced hour. The engine, covered -with tricolor flags, had scarcely come to a stop -amid clouds of steam, when the parlor-car -opened and the President appeared. He was -immediately followed by M. Viviani, at that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -time president of the Council of Ministers, -who had accompanied M. Poincaré on the -Russian visit. The two advanced to M. Messimy, -minister of war, shook his hand and then -those of the other officials. I looked with -deepest interest on these men on whom fate -had placed a responsibility so sudden and so -heavy. They appeared calm, but it appeared -to me the countenances of both were pale as -if they realized the gravity of the moment -and the weight of their trust. Whatever their -feeling, only the most commonplace words of -greeting were uttered, and the group at once -proceeded to the exit.</p> - -<p>Here something out of the ordinary occurred. -Though I should live a hundred years, the scene -would remain undimmed before my eyes. In -my memory there is no similarly indelible -picture, in spite of the fact that in the course -of my ten years in the army I had witnessed -a considerable number of remarkable spectacles. -Even at the funeral of President Carnot, -or that of President Félix Faure, even at -the visit to France of Czar Nicholas II, even -at the Congress of Versailles after the election -of President Poincaré or any of the great public<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -events of our national life, I had not seen anything -with so dramatic a note as the occurrence -of this instant.</p> - -<p>Leading the procession, the President came -close to the barrier which restrained the crowd -of privileged persons, who had been allowed -to enter the station. Not a sound had been -made, when, sudden as a lightning-flash, the -silence was rent by an intense cry from thousands -of throats. It swelled immediately, was -taken up by the throng outside, echoing and -reverberating, till it became a tonal torrent, -capable, like the clamors of the Romans, of -killing the birds. And this cry was:</p> - -<p>“Vive la France!”</p> - -<p>It was so strong, so powerful, and, in these -circumstances, so poignant, that there was a -wavering, a hesitation on the part of all. Even -the horses attached to the carriages, and those -of the cavalry guard, seemed to thrill at its -fervor.</p> - -<p>While the carriages filled and the escort, -with sabres flashing, took its place, the same -acclamation, the same cry, deep and powerful, -continued to roar, in its fury demonstrating -better than any deed the national will, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -expressing it in a manner so intense and precise, -that any Boches in the crowd (and there -certainly were many) must at this moment -have felt the abyss opening beneath their feet; -that the horrible adventure into which their -Emperor was hurling them was destined to -hasten their fall rather than assure their triumph.</p> - -<p>Through this crashing human concert the -escort moved forward. The crowd, however, -was so dense that the carriages were not able -to open a passage, and it was as in a living -wave, with men and horses in a confused mass, -that they reached Rue La Fayette, where at -last they were able to disengage the presidential -cortège from the still shouting throng.</p> - -<p>In the crowd left behind, a remarkable patriotic -demonstration spontaneously developed -under the leadership of two noted deputies, -M. Galli and Admiral Bienaimé, chanting the -“Marseillaise” and acclaiming France.</p> - -<p>Now let the war come! Unity dated from -this instant.</p> - -<p>From this hour the war imposed itself on -every one. Each Frenchman resolutely prepared -himself. The Miracle, that wondrous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -French miracle which was to stupefy the world -and arrest the enemy at the Marne, this sublime -display of strength on the part of a France -seized by the throat, was born, under German -provocation, at the Gare du Nord, in this furious -shout, in this cry of passionate love:</p> - -<p>“Vive la France!”</p> - -<p>From that evening each family felt itself -warned, each man felt his heart grow stronger, -and each woman lived in shuddering anticipation.</p> - -<p>Throughout the land there gushed forth a -will to battle, an admirable spirit of resolution -and sacrifice, on which the enemy had not -counted, that he had not foreseen, and which -all his power could not conquer. France, insulted, -provoked, assailed, stood erect to her -foes.</p> - -<p>This period was brief. People followed in -the papers the energetic move for peace undertaken -by France and England, but the day -of wavering was past. War, with all its consequences, -was accepted. The national sentiment -was unanimous, and the mobilization -found the public ready in spite of the shocks -inseparable from such an event.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>The most serious of these which I recall, -was the assassination of Jaurès, the great Socialist -leader, in Rue Montmartre. Although -several of the newspapers, and particularly -the Italian press, printed that I was in the -party of the great tribune when he was killed, -the statement was inexact. I learned of the -assassination shortly after it occurred, and -with several of my associates hurried to the -scene. The moment was tragic and the tense -state of public feeling caused an immense throng -to swarm the boulevard. I was able, nevertheless, -to reach the office of l’Humanité and, -with others, to write my name in homage to -the fallen one.</p> - -<p>Already history was on the march. The -national defense was in organization, and each -individual had too many personal preoccupations -to give even to the most legitimate occupation -more than a few brief minutes of -attention. For myself it was necessary to -think at once of the rôle of soldier, which I -was reassuming.</p> - -<p>I hurried to my home. In the empty apartment -I assembled my military equipment with -the skill of an old stager; the compact baggage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -indispensable to the trooper, which should -serve all his needs while taking up the smallest -space, and add as little as possible to the weight -of his burden. The experience I had had in -the trade of soldiering, the expeditions in which -I had taken part (the campaign in China, -where, for the first time, I had as companions -in arms the splendid soldiers of free America; -my journeys into Indo-China and the Sahara), -enabled me to know, better than most others, -the essentials of the soldier’s personal provision; -what must be chosen and what rejected, -and the precise size limits by which a useful -article should be judged indispensable or abandoned -because too cumbersome.</p> - -<p>I provided for myself accordingly without -waiting for the official call. In consequence I -was able to devote my last free hours to some -of my less experienced neighbors. Among -these, two poor fellows interested me particularly. -They were brothers, one of them recently -married, who, by uniting their savings, -had just opened a shop not far from my home. -They had watched with dismay the coming -of the tempest, and questioned me incessantly, -hoping to find in my answers some words of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -reassurance. I was able to give only such -answers as increased their fears, and to add -advice which they would not heed.</p> - -<p>“Imitate me,” I said to them; “the war is -inevitable. Buy some heavy shoes and thick -socks. Provide yourselves with needles and -thread. One always needs them, and too often -one hasn’t them when the need is greatest,” -etc.</p> - -<p>They wouldn’t listen. They continued to -worry and do nothing, refusing to the end to -accept the terrible reality, closing their eyes -to the spectre as if they had a premonition -that they were destined to be crushed in the -torment and both killed; which, as I have since -learned, was their fate within the first month -of the war.</p> - -<p>In the meantime I had to write consoling -letters to my wife, abandoned at the seaside, -amid a populace shocked and bewildered by -the thunderbolt, and lacking definite news to -satisfy the anxious need which saddened each -individual.</p> - -<p>But I was a soldier. I had to rejoin my -command, and I had only enough time to pay -a farewell visit to the home of my parents,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -where my brothers, ready like myself, awaited -me with their wives and children.</p> - -<p>Such an unforgettable repast. The paternal -table surrounded by the group of sons and -grandchildren, each still forcing himself to -smile to hearten the others, each in the bottom -of his heart wondering anxiously what the -morrow would unfold. Several of those who -on this final evening partook of the food prepared -by their mother, or touched their glasses -and drank “A la France,” “A la Victoire,” -will never return. They have fallen on the -field of honor, battling the odious invader, -breasting his blows and giving their lives that -their sons may remain French and free. No -one knew who would fall, who would be alive -a year, even a month later, but one would -have looked in vain for a quiver in any eye or -a tremor in any voice. All were French. All -accepted their duty, however it might present -itself; each in his rank, in his assigned place; -to do simply, without discussion, without hesitation, -whatever the threatened country might -demand of its children.</p> - -<p>We had the courage to laugh, at this last -dinner. We heard our father recall the memories<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -of the other war, that of 1870, in which -he had served as a volunteer, and then we -separated with words of au revoir and not -good-by on our lips.</p> - -<p>We were keenly conscious that everywhere -in France, in all the homes and in all the families, -an identical scene was presented at that -instant. At each table the mother offered -the departing ones a farewell repast; the wives -repeated their vows of affection, and the children -gave their tender love. Every one swore -to make the Prussian pay dearly for his provocation, -to chastise his insolence, to arrest -him, cost what it might, and to defeat him. -One entered the drama without effort and -almost without hatred, because it was unavoidable, -because France called and it was -necessary to defend her. One was sure of the -right, that the cause was just, and without -discussion one obeyed. French blood—the -blood which has flowed in so many wars, the -blood of Bouvines, of Valmy, and of Jena, -the blood of the Revolution and of 1870—surged -in the veins, quickened the pulse and -grimly expressed itself:</p> - -<p>“They shall not pass!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>The night of the second of August seemed -short. For myself, my preparations completed, -I retired early, well aware of the fatigues -to come; a little shaken, it must be -admitted, at the thought of leaving, for a time -which might be long, an abiding-place where -I had tasted so much of pure happiness and -calm joy with my young wife and our pretty -baby.</p> - -<p>Adventure, the great adventure of war, of -journeys, of battles, and of blood: Adventure -left behind so short a time before, as I had -believed, forever, had seized me again and -thrown me as an insignificant atom into the -path of the unknown, breaking all the bonds -whose forming had given me so much joy, and -whose stability had seemed so humanly sure.</p> - -<p>When the hour arrived for my departure, -I contemplated my deserted apartment, and -gave a last kiss to the pictures of my absent -loved ones. Then, in marching attire, my -light sack on my shoulder, I descended to the -street with firm step and heart beating high, -to begin my journey to the front.</p> - -<p>The animation of the streets was extraordinary. -All Paris seemed to have turned out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -to form an escort for the soldiers. These latter -were easily recognized by the stern resolution -of their faces, quite as much as by the accoutrement -they bore. Most of them were accompanied -by parents or friends; those who were -alone were constantly saluted by the crowds -as they passed. Many people offered their -carriages to the soldiers, and others had placarded -their motors with announcements that -they would carry mobilized men to the stations -without charge. Around these machines there -was an ever-increasing crowd.</p> - -<p>I entered this human wave. Immediately -one dropped the manner of civilian life and -became a soldier. By an old French habit, -obligatory in the barracks, all the men replaced -their formal speech by the intimate -forms—<i>le tutoyer</i>—reserved ordinarily for one’s -family and intimate friends.</p> - -<p>Costumes of all sorts were there; the long -coat of the workman, business suits, peasant -blouses, bourgeois jackets with a touch of color -given by the occasional red or blue uniform. -Hair-cuts were in equal variety, from the -tousled head of the peasant lad and the waving -curls of the student to the closely cropped<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -state of those who had anticipated the military -order. At the station all was well ordered. -The trains, requisitioned before our -coming, and with directions clearly indicated -by placards, were quickly filled. Throughout -the cars the men were singing and shouting, -giving assurance of triumph, of prompt return, -and of chastisement for the Boche. The -coaches were covered with inscriptions naïve -and gay.</p> - -<p>“Excursion-train for Berlin.”</p> - -<p>“Round trip to Germany.”</p> - -<p>“Good fellows’ compartment-car.”</p> - -<p>And a hundred others, many accompanied -by satirical drawings, showing occasionally -real talent on the part of the caricaturist. At -the hour fixed all moved forward. All these -men departed, singing; starting on their journey -toward battle, toward glory, and toward death, -while along the way, in the gardens or at the -doors of the houses, the women, the children, -and the old men waved their hands and their -handkerchiefs, threw kisses and flowers, endlessly -applauding, in a warm sentiment of love -and of recognition, those who went forth to -defend them.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>No one, perhaps, of all those who departed, -of all those who saluted, believed that the war -would be long, that it would involve the world -and become what it now is, the battle for human -freedom, the battle to death, or to the triumph -of democracy over autocracy.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">II<br /> - - -<small>THE INVASION</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">A SHORT time before the advent of the -world catastrophe, Mr. Nicholas Murray -Butler, president of Columbia University, -was in France. I had the pleasure of -meeting him in Paris. He gave me the first -copy, in French and English, of the report -of the American commission of inquiry concerning -the Balkan atrocities. This report -was made for the Carnegie Foundation, and -he asked me to spread the knowledge of it, as -far as possible, in my own country. I believed -then that I was doing well in drawing from -this interesting work a comparative study, -which chance, rather than choice, caused to appear -in the <i>Grande Revue</i>, in its number of July, -1914, only a few days before the outbreak of the -great war itself.</p> - -<p>I could not think, in writing this study, that -it would precede by so very short a time events -much worse, and that the Balkan atrocities,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -which were already arousing the conscience of -the civilized world, were about to be surpassed -in number and horror at the hand of one of -the nations claiming the direction of modern -progress: Germany! No, I could not dream -it, nor that I would be so soon a witness of it.</p> - -<p>Let us return to my strict rôle of soldier, -from which I have digressed. The digression -was necessary, however, for it will make more -comprehensible the amazing situation which -the war created for me. At the time the mobilization -took place I was accustomed to the -wide liberty of action, of thought, and of speech -which is usually enjoyed by the writers and -artists of France. In public places as well as -in certain drawing-rooms, I met the most illustrious -personages, both French and foreign, -whose presence gives to Paris much of its -unique charm. My own signature was sufficiently -well known to attract attention, and -life opened before me full of attraction. Suddenly, -from the fact that a demoniacal fanatic -had killed the Archduke Ferdinand and his -wife in the little, unknown town of Sarajevo, -the conflagration flamed forth. I abandoned -everything which, up to this time, had constituted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -the essential part of my life; everything -which had seemed worthy my attention -and care, to become, on the morrow, an unknown, -a soldier of the ranks, a number almost -without a name, without volition of my own, -without individual direction.</p> - -<p>This was, it still is, a great renunciation. -To really grasp its meaning, one must experience -it himself. However, by reason of the -importance assumed gradually by the World -War, by reason of the enormous number of -men called to the colors of every country of -the globe, the feeling which I experienced at -that time has become part of the common lot, -and before the end of the tragedy, the majority -of our contemporaries will have experienced -it to a greater or less degree.</p> - -<p>My order to report for duty directed me to -go to Caen. It is a lovely town in Normandy, -rich in superb monuments, of which one, “Abbaye -aux Hommes,” is an almost unequalled -marvel of twelfth-century architecture.</p> - -<p>I arrived in the evening, after a fatiguing -journey in a train packed with mobilized men, -who had already dissipated all social differences -by the familiarity of their conversation. Immediately<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -on our arrival we entered the barracks. -As there was not nearly enough room -for the throng of recruits, my company received -the order to join another in a temporary -camp, whither we hastened at full speed with -the hope of being able to sleep. This new lodging, -unfortunately, contained no conveniences -whatever: it was a riding-school, where the -young people of the town learned horsemanship, -and which offered us for bedding nothing -but the sawdust mixed with manure which -had formed the riding-track. It must be confessed -that one would need to have a large -measure of indifference to be entirely content -with this lodging. The unfortunate civilian -clothing, which we were still wearing, suffered -much from the experience.</p> - -<p>Dawn found us all up and moving about, -each one hunting, among the groups, those -who, through mutual sympathy, would become -more particularly “comrades,” or, to use a -word more expressive, more characteristically -French, “companions,” those with whom one -breaks bread.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></p> - -<p>The crowd was composed of the most diverse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -types, but the greater number were from Normandy. -Most of these Normans were farmers, -many of them well-to-do; a few were -dairymen and others horse-dealers. The rest -of the company was Parisian. It is the custom -in recruiting the French army to mix with -all the contingents a certain percentage of -Parisians, thus scattering over all of France, -and particularly along the eastern frontier, the -influence of the country’s capital. In the -French army the Parisian has the reputation -of being an excellent soldier; very alert, of -great endurance, light-hearted, and agreeable, -with a keen sense of humor which sweeps -away gloom and dispels melancholy. He is -also a bit hot-headed and does not yield -readily to discipline. The leaders know the -admirable results they can obtain by appealing -to the vanity or the sentiment of the Parisian, -and that he is capable of almost any effort is -freely admitted. They fear, however, his caustic -humor, his facile raillery and his eternal joking, -which sometimes endanger their prestige. At -least, these ideas existed before the war. Under -the fiery tests of these three years, all differences -of thought have melted as in a terrible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -crucible; and there has been brought about -a national unity so intimate and so absolute, -that one would not know how to make it more -perfect.</p> - -<p>Among my new comrades the differences -due to birthplace were quickly noted. By -the costume, the accent, or the general manner -it was easy to identify the native of the Calvados, -of Havre, or of Paris. Already these -affinities played their unfailing rôle, and in -the general bustle the groups formed according -to their origin. In the meantime every -face showed that species of childish joy which -always marks the French when they abandon -their individualities and become merged in a -crowd, as in the army. Their naturally carefree -spirit comes to the surface and colors all -their thought and action. They cease to feel -themselves responsible for the ordering of -their lives, and leave all to the authority which -controls them. This enables them to throw -aside all thought of their immediate needs, and -permits them, at whatever age, to recover a -youthfulness of spirit which is a perpetual -surprise to strangers, and which constitutes one -of their chief racial charms. Released from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -all care, they jest freely on all subjects, and -their spirit of quick repartee, their gifts of -observation and of irony develop amazingly—perhaps -to excess. They are just children, -big children, full of life and gayety, who laugh -at a joke and delight in a song; big children -who will suffer every fatigue and every pain -so long as they can retain their <i>esprit</i>, and -whom one may lead into any danger if one -knows how to provoke their good humor.</p> - -<p>War did not in the least change all this. -While perhaps most of the troop had done -little more than go through the motions of -slumber, and every one had missed something -of his customary comfort, no one seemed tired -when next morning’s reveille came. Each -improvised an occupation. One built a fire -between two stones that he might heat water -for the soup, another prepared vegetables, a -third helped the quartermasters in their accounts, -and still another volunteered to help -arrange the uniforms which were heaped up -in a barn commandeered to serve as a store-house. -In a short time the issuing of uniforms -commenced. In his turn each soldier received -his clothing, his equipment and all the regulation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -baggage. And such scenes, half comic, -half serious, as were enacted when the men -tried on and adjusted their hurriedly assembled -attire! Gradually, however, the long and -short, the lean and rotund, by a series of exchanges, -achieved a reasonable success in the -transformation, and the variety of civilian -aspect gave way to a soldierly uniformity.</p> - -<p>At this period, in spite of all the efforts to -secure a modification of the garb of the French -soldier, the uniform still consisted of the celebrated -red trousers and the dark-blue coat. -This too gaudy attire was a grave error, soon -to be corrected by stern experience. The red -trousers dated from about 1830, and had acquired -prestige in the conquest of Algeria and -the wars in Mexico and Italy. To it also attached -all the patriotic sentimentality aroused -by the struggle of 1870. So strongly intrenched -was it in popular fancy that it had triumphed -over its most determined foes, and this in spite -of the lessons regarding the visibility of the -soldier, furnished by modern combats such -as the Boer War and that between Russia -and Japan. In consequence, the whole French -army, excepting certain special troops such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -as the Chasseurs, the Marines, and a few -others, started for the front in this picturesque -but dangerous costume. On its side, it cannot -be doubted, it had a certain martial pride, a -pride so notable that it was remarked by the -Romans at the time of the conquest of Gaul. -This sentiment of sublime valor makes the -French prefer the hand-to-hand combat, in -which they excel and where each shows the -exact measure of his bravery, rather than the -obscure, intrenched warfare for whose pattern -the Boche has turned to the creeping -beasts.</p> - -<p>Therefore we were clothed in this glittering -fashion. However, as if the visibility of our -uniform had already disquieted our leaders, -they concealed our red head-gear by a blue -muff which completely covered the cap. It -was in this attire that the company formed, -that the ranks aligned and the two hundred -and fifty civilians of yesterday became the -two hundred and fifty soldiers of to-day; two -hundred and fifty soldiers of right and justice. -In like manner millions of others, scattered -through all the depots and barracks where -invaded France was arming herself, girded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -their loins and burnished their arms for the -sacred work of defending their homes.</p> - -<p>Although few details are visible to the individual -lost in the crowd, I feel sure that none -of us even tried to see beyond the affairs of -the moment. Certain things we could not -help knowing: The war had already reddened -our frontiers. Invaded Belgium battled desperately. -Liége resisted. King Albert, his -court, and the Belgian Government prepared -Antwerp for a prolonged defense. Our comrades -of the covering troops on one flank had -invaded Alsace, and on the other had advanced -to Charleroi. In the meantime, we, the soldiers -of future combats, busied ourselves with -preparations for our rôle with hardly a thought -for the struggles already under way, or those -of the future; this future so terrible which -awaited us. We were more occupied in choosing -our comrades than in considering the far-reaching -possibilities of such incidents as the -escape of the German cruisers <i>Goeben</i> and <i>Breslau</i>, -and their subsequent internment at Constantinople. -No, all that we learned from the -newspaper dispatches interested us far less than -the organization of our squads and platoons.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>I had the luck to find some good comrades, -one the son of a celebrated novelist, the other -an artist of some repute, and we three amused -ourselves in observing our new surroundings -and trying to foretell our next military moves. -Our officers engaged our careful attention, as -is natural in such circumstances. Our captain, -as the chief of our company, a brave man, -slightly bewildered by the astonishing rôle -which had suddenly fallen to him, was the object -of our special interest. We had the keenest -desire for a chief who knew his trade so thoroughly -that he would be able to lead us without -trouble in whatever crisis. The soldier is ever -thus. Without saying a word he examines his -officer, measures his qualifications, and then -reserves his confidence until the moment when -it is made certain that this confidence is well -placed and he need no longer fear the necessity -of revising his judgment. This judgment -which the soldier passes on his chief is definite, -almost without appeal, so rare is it -that circumstances will later cause a modification.</p> - -<p>These early days, it is true, did not give -our captain any opportunity to demonstrate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -his valor. Burdened with an important physical -task, that of transforming into soldiers -more than two hundred men who had left the -barracks years before; of clothing each according -to his measure; of answering all the -questions of the higher officers, and of watching -at the same time a hundred little details—he -was so busy that we had relatively little -opportunity to study him. We were already -armed, equipped and placed in the ranks before -we had caught more than a glimpse of -him; and then suddenly came the order to -move the regiment to C——, one of the most -important seaports of France.</p> - -<p>To entrain a regiment of three thousand -men with its baggage, its horses, its wagons, -its stores, and its service, has become mere -play for our strategists of to-day. To call it -a heavy task would make one smile, for it now -appears so simple. At the period of which I -speak, the month of August, 1914, when our -defense was hardly organized and when the -enemy rushed on, driving before him the terrified -populace, it was not, by long odds, the -simple problem of to-day. The railroads were -congested, there was a shortage of cars, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -orders were not always certain of prompt execution.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, in spite of these circumstances, -the regiment entrained, departed, reached its -destination without losing a minute or a man. -We reached our assigned place at the scheduled -time, just as if this tour de force had been -planned for a long time or had been made -easy by habit.</p> - -<p>We arrived thus in our garrison without -knowing each other, but none the less completely -equipped and accoutred, although less -than four days had elapsed since the mobilization -call had been sent to these three thousand -men, most of whom had forgotten all but the -rudiments of their military training. This -miracle of execution was reproduced throughout -our territory, and after three years of war -there has not arisen a single voice to claim -that the French mobilization failed in any -detail, or that in either plan or execution it -fell short of perfection.</p> - -<p>This was in reality a remarkable achievement. -It must be here noted that France -was prepared for the war neither in spirit nor in -material. Most of our citizens were pacifists,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -who refused even to acknowledge the possibility -of a war. Yet, when confronted by -the inevitable, each brought to the task an -abundant good-will and an enthusiastic patriotism -which gave speed and efficiency to -each act of the mobilization. This was in truth -the first step, the beginning of the “Miracle -of the Marne.” It was indeed a miracle, this -splendid co-ordination of good-will and eager -effort into an organization, enormous but almost -improvised, which worked without clash -or creaking, with an almost mathematical -ease that could not have been assured to a -method prepared and perfected by the most -careful study.</p> - -<p>After all, we were not destined to remain -long in our new post. In fact, we were hardly -installed when an order came which placed us -once more on the train, and sent us at last -to the frontier. We were delighted.</p> - -<p>Imagine, for the moment, these three thousand -men recently armed, barely organized -into squads and led by officers as yet unknown, -starting on their way to meet the enemy. It -was for them a veritable <i>début</i>. They were -still unaware of the tricks and brutality of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -German. Very few of us had heard more than -the vaguest discussion of the theories of Bernhardi -and the Teuton “Kriegspiel.” We knew -little of what was happening in Belgium, of -the desperate efforts of the heroic defenders -of Liége, or of the atrocities committed by the -invaders. There was no time to study and -explain the horrors of this war which threatened -to submerge us; no time to instruct the -soldiers; no time even to wait for munitions. -Speed was necessary. We must hasten to -offer our bodies, in the effort to check the black -wave which advanced so ominously.</p> - -<p>It was not a war which came. It was an -inundation. The numberless German host, -rolling on like a wave of mud, had already -covered Belgium, submerged Luxembourg and -filled the valleys of Lorraine. No one knew -if there would be time to check it. The army -of the front was fighting, no one knew just -where. The English army was not yet ready, -the Belgian army, that heroic handful was -giving way, and the French mobilization was -hardly finished. And here we were, rolling -on at full speed along the lines of the Eastern -Railway, to reach as soon as possible the frontier<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -of the Aisne, with two hundred rounds of -ammunition in our pouches and two days’ rations -in our sacks.</p> - -<p>We went where we were sent, passing trains -of terror-stricken refugees; speeding without -stop along the sentinel-guarded way; passing -Paris, then Laon, and finally arriving in the -middle of the night in a darkened city; a -terror-torn city, whose people gathered at -the station to receive us as liberators, acclaiming -our uniform as if it were the presage of -victory, as if it betokened a sure defense, capable -of rolling back the threatening enemy -and giving deliverance from danger.</p> - -<p>Poor people: I see them still in the touching -warmth of their welcome. I see them still, -as they crowded about to offer us refreshing -drinks or bread and eggs, and following us -clear to the fort which we were to defend, and -which they believed would protect the city -from all attacks.</p> - -<p>Here we were at last, at our point of rendezvous -with that grim monster: War. The -men of the regiment began to look about, and -especially I and my two friends, to whom I -was already bound in one of those quick soldierly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -friendships. We were ready to suffer -together, to share our miseries, and to give an -example to others. Because of our social position -and education and our superior training, -we felt capable of indicating and leading in -the path of obedience. However, neither of -my friends was able to follow the campaign -to the end. A weakness of constitution ended -the military career of one, while the other suffered -from an old injury to his legs. At this -early moment neither wished to think of his -own sufferings. They dreamed only of France -and the need she had for all they possessed of -strength and courage. In spite of their good-will -and stoutness of heart, neither of them -was able to endure the strain of military life -for any considerable period. A soldier should -be a man of robust physique and unfailing -morale. He should be able to withstand heat -and cold, hunger and thirst, nights without -sleep and the dull agony of weariness. He -should have a heart of stone in a body of steel. -The will alone is not enough to sustain the -body when worn by fatigue, when tortured -by hunger, when one must march instead of -sleep, or fight instead of eat.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>All these things I knew well. I had served -in war-time. I had marched on an empty -stomach when drenched by rain or burned -by the sun. I had drunk polluted water and -eaten the bodies of animals. I had fought. -I knew the surprises and hazards of war; hours -on guard when the eyes would not stay open; -hours at attention when the body groaned. -I knew the bark of the cannon, the whistle of -bullets, and the cries of the dying. I knew of -long marches in sticky mud, and of atrocious -work in the midst of pollution. I was a veteran -of veterans, earning my stripes by many years -of service, and therefore ready for any eventualities. -My gallant comrades knew little of -all this. Instinctively they looked to me for -instruction, and placed on me a reliance warranted -by my genuine desire to help them, as -well as my long military experience.</p> - -<p>Up to this time, however, the war had not -shown us its hideous face. Our immediate -task consisted of placing in a state of defense -an old, dismantled fort here on the edge of -French territory, and our orders were to hold -it as long as possible, even to death. We were -only a handful of men assigned to this heavy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -task, of which, it is true, we did not realize -the importance.</p> - -<p>Under the orders of our commander we hurriedly -cut down the trees which had overgrown -the glacis, made entanglements of branches, -and helped the artillerymen to furnish and -protect their casemates. Oh, the folly of this -moment, superhuman and heroic! We had -only a dozen cannon of antiquated model to -defend a defile of the first importance, and -there was neither reserve nor second line to -support our effort.</p> - -<p>Before us developed the Belgian campaign. -The battle of Charleroi was under way. In -the evening, after supper, when we went down -to visit the town and find recreation, if possible, -we heard the inhabitants discuss the -news in the papers as tranquilly as if these -events, happening only ten leagues from their -door, were taking place in the antipodes, and -as if nothing could possibly endanger them -and their interests.</p> - -<p>Trains bearing the wounded passed constantly -through the station. Those whose -condition was so serious that they could not -stand a longer journey were removed from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -trains and taken to the hastily improvised -hospitals. This we saw daily, and so did the -people of the town. We saw Zouaves, horsemen, -and footsoldiers return, blood-covered, -from the battle; frightfully wounded men on -stretchers, who still had the spirit to smile -at the onlookers, or even to raise themselves -to salute.</p> - -<p>Still, this town, so close to the battle, so -warned of its horrors, remained tranquil and -believed itself safe. Every day endless motor -convoys passed through on the way to the -front, bearing munitions and food without -disturbing this calm life. Shops were open -as usual, the cafés were filled, the municipal -and governmental services were undisturbed -in their operation, and the young women still -pursued the cheerful routine of their life, without -dreaming of the coming of the Uhlans and -the infamy the German brutes would inflict.</p> - -<p>Thus passed the days. We soldiers organized -our habitation, placed the rifle-pits in condition, -repaired the drawbridges and redressed -the parades.</p> - -<p>Ah! how little we knew of fortification, at -this period, so recent and already so distant!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -How little we had foreseen the manner of war -to which the Germans were introducing us. -We knew so little of it that we did not even -have a suspicion. We expected to fight, certainly, -but we had in mind a style of combat, -desperate perhaps, but straightforward, in -which cannon replied to cannon, rifle to rifle, -and where we bravely opposed our bodies to -those of the enemy. We were confident. We -reassured any timorous ones among the townspeople, -saying: “Fear nothing. We are here.”</p> - -<p>We were stupefied, civilian and soldier alike, -when the French army suddenly gave way and -rolled back upon us.</p> - -<p>In the ordinary acceptation of the term this -was a retreat. The regiments, conquered by -numbers, by novel tactics, and by new engines -of war, drew back from the plains of Charleroi. -I saw them pass, still in good order, -just below the fort, our fort where the work -of preparation continued. Each soldier was -in his rank, each carriage in its place. It was -at once magnificent and surprising. We questioned -these men with the utmost respect, for -we envied them. They came from battle, -they knew what fighting was like, and we could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -see a new flash in their eyes. They were tired -but happy. They were covered with dust -and harassed by fatigue, but proud of having -survived that they might once more defend -their native land. Most of them could tell -us but little, for they had only the most confused -notion of what had happened. They -were witnesses, but they had not seen clearly. -A formidable artillery fire had mown down -their comrades without their seeing an enemy -or even knowing definitely where the Germans -were. They had advanced and taken the formation -of combat, when, suddenly, the storm -broke upon them and forced them to retreat. -They were so astonished at what had befallen -them, that one could see in their faces, almost -in the wrinkles of their garments, the mark -of the thunderbolt.</p> - -<p>They marched in extended formation and -in excellent order, remaining soldiers in spite -of the hard blows they had borne. They kept -their distances, their rifles on their shoulders, -their platoons at the prescribed intervals, the -battalions following each other as in manœuvre -and bringing their pieces of artillery.</p> - -<p>It was an uninterrupted procession, an even<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -wave, which rolled along the road without -cessation. Some stragglers entered the town -and they were anxiously questioned. They -could tell only of their exhaustion and of small -details of the fight, describing the corner of -a field, the margin of a wood, the bank of a -river: the precise spot where the individual -had entered the zone of fire and had seen his -neighbors fall. This one had marched up a -hill, but couldn’t see anything when he got -there; another said his company had tramped -along singing, when suddenly the machine-guns -broke loose and his friends fell all about him; -a third told of joining the sharpshooters, of -throwing himself on the ground and, “My! how -it did rain.” One tall chap recalled that in the -evening his company had withdrawn to a farmhouse -where they paused for a bite to eat, after -which they made a détour. Such were the -scraps of information they gave, minute details -which told nothing.</p> - -<p>All these stories were a jumble. None of -these combatants had truly seen the war. Each -knew only what had happened to himself, and -even that he could not explain. These men -seemed to have just awakened from a nightmare,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -and their disjointed words told us nothing. -We, who listened with such tense interest, -were tortured with the desire to know if the -tide of battle was bringing nearer the chance -to prove our valor.</p> - -<p>We were eager for the fray. All our forces, -physical, mental, and spiritual, hungered for -the combat. Our tasks of the hour were insipid. -This incessant felling of trees, this clearing -away of brush, this myriad of fussy efforts -put forth for the refurbishing of our antiquated -fortress, held us in leash until the place seemed -like a suffocating tomb, whose cave-like quarters -we would never leave.</p> - -<p>In the town the people grew restless as the -French armies fell back. They knew no more -than we of the outcome of the battle of Charleroi, -but as they saw the endless procession -of convoys, of soldiers and of fugitive civilians, -they began to fear the worst.</p> - -<p>The German drive increased in power. -Now, Belgian soldiers began to be mixed in -the swift stream of the fleeing. Hussars, -guides, infantry, and linesmen, clad in picturesque -uniforms, copied from the first French -empire, poured by in disorder. Some were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -mounted on carts; others afoot, were leading -their foundered horses; and these haggard, -mud-covered men brought an air of defeat. -Their faces, sunken from hunger and distorted -from lack of sleep, told a story that sowed -terror and kindled a panic.</p> - -<p>The invasion presented itself at the gates -of the town with an unforgettable cortège. -Fear-stricken men deserted their fields, taking -with them such of their possessions as could -most quickly be gathered together. All means -of transport were employed. Vehicles of all -types and ages were piled high with shapeless -bundles of bedding and of clothing of women -and children. Some of the unfortunates were -pushing perambulators, on which they had -heaped such cooking-utensils as they had hurriedly -gathered up. Trembling old men guided -the steps of their almost helpless wives. Many -had left their tranquil homes in such haste -that they had not taken time even to fully -clothe themselves. With weeping eyes, quivering -lips, and bleeding feet they stumbled on. -One heard only words of terror:</p> - -<p>“They kill every one.”</p> - -<p>“They have killed my mother.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>“They have murdered my husband.”</p> - -<p>“They are burning the houses and shooting -the people as they try to escape.”</p> - -<p>Can you imagine such a sight? And this -never for an instant ceased. Three roads -joined each other at the edge of the town, and -each brought from a different direction its -tales of horror. Along one came the families -driven from the colliery shafts, another brought -the fishermen from the Scheldt, and the third -the bourgeoisie from Mons and Brussels. All -marched pell-mell along with the troops, slept -at the roadside, and ate when some interruption -on the congested route offered the opportunity. -All fled straight on, not knowing -whither.</p> - -<p>I found reproduced in this lamentable exodus -certain spectacles which I had witnessed years -before, but under vastly different circumstances. -Yes! I had seen things just like this, but on -a far-away continent where the fugitives were -not men of my own race. I had seen cities -taken by assault and whole populations fleeing -in terror. I had seen houses in flames and -corpses rotting in the fields. I had seen all the -drama and horror of an invasion and had looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -on with infinite pity. However, nothing in all -that had touched me as did the present. Those -flights had not taken place in my own country. -They were not my compatriots who had been -harried like so many animals, and driven from -their homes like frightened beasts, to be tracked -in the forests or hunted across the plains. They -were, nevertheless, poor, unfortunate humans. -Even in their panic and distress they were -still a little grotesque, owing to their strange -manners and costumes. Their natural abjection -had in it nothing of similarity to the -fierce grief of these Europeans, surprised in a -time of peace and in no way prepared to endure -submission.</p> - -<p>Once when I saw an exhausted old man fall -at the roadside, near our fort, and heard him -beg his companions to abandon him that they -might make better speed, I recalled a scene -indelibly graved on my memory. It was in -China. We were moving toward Pekin in -August, 1900. We pushed back before us the -Boxer insurgents, whom we, with the Japanese -and the Russians, had routed at Pei-Tsang. -One evening when hunger tortured us, some -companions and myself started out in search<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -of food. We reached a farm isolated in the -midst of a rice-swamp, and we entered, just -as armed men, conquerors, may enter anywhere. -There was not a soul in the numerous -buildings of the extensive plantation—or so it -seemed at first. Finally, I went alone into one -of the houses, and there came face to face with -a very old woman, shrivelled and bent, with -straggling wisps of hair, grimacing and repulsive. -She instantly thought that her last -hour had come. I had no bad intentions, but -she could read my white face no better than -I could have read her yellow countenance had -our positions been reversed. She was overcome -with fear, and her fright caused such -facial contortions that I had a feeling of deepest -pity for her. I tried without success to reassure -her. Each of my gestures seemed to her -a threat of death. She crouched before me, -supplicating with most piteous cries and lamentations, -until I, finding no gestures that would -explain what I wanted, left the room. She -followed me as I withdrew, bending to kiss -each footprint as if to express her gratitude for -the sparing of her life.</p> - -<p>At that time I had thought of what my own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -grandmother would feel were she suddenly -confronted by a German soldier in her own -home in France. My imagination had formed -such a vivid picture that I remembered it fourteen -years later when the real scene passed -before my eyes.</p> - -<p>Ah! Free men of a free country! Men -whose homes are safe from invasion, men who -need not dread the conflagration leaping nearer -and nearer, or the lust of your neighbor—fortunate -men, imagine these villages suddenly -abandoned; these families in flight; these old -men stumbling on the stones of the road; these -young girls saving their honor; these children -subjected to the hardships and dangers of such -an ordeal!</p> - -<p>Search your mind for a picture which may -aid you to visualize such a spectacle. For -no pen, no brush, not even a cinematograph -could depict that terrified mob, that throng -pushing on in the rain and the wind; the flight -of a people before another people, the flight of -the weak and innocent before the strong and -guilty.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">III<br /> - - -<small>THE MARNE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap2">AS the result of tenacity and strenuous effort, -our work of defense progressed. -We had been able to build a smooth, -sloping bank all around the fort, to place entanglements -before the principal entrance, and -to arrange such cannon as we had at our disposal. -We put iron-bars in front of the windows -to break the impact of shells, and baskets filled -with sand at passage entrances. We had sufficient -provision to last a month. We built -a country oven that we might bake bread and -not be reduced by famine.</p> - -<p>We were tired, but confident, the enemy -might come now. Each of us knew the spot -he should occupy on the rampart, and we had -not the least doubt of our power of resistance. -The commander redoubled the exercises and -drills, and each day notices were posted near -the guard-house saying that we must hold -the fort unto death, that surrender was absolutely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -forbidden. As for the men, we were -equally determined to offer resistance to the -end.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, we came to know each -other better day by day, and genuine sympathies -grew into solid friendships. In addition -to my two friends of the first hour, I -found myself associated with some excellent -comrades. There was Yo, a splendid young -Norman, strong as a giant, a carpenter by -trade. He was persistently good-natured, and -knew a thousand amusing stories. He had an -anecdote or witticism ready for all occasions. -Then there was Amelus, whom we dubbed -“Angelus.” With his little, close-set eyes, -small features, narrow shoulders, he was as -nearly as possible the physical type of a Paris -gamin. He possessed also the gamin’s quick -repartee and unalterable good humor.</p> - -<p>This man, who was killed later, deserves -special mention. He was an anti-militarist. -That is to say, before the war he constantly -asserted, as a point of honor, in season and -out of season, his hatred of the whole military -business; and detested, without clearly knowing -why, every one who wore an army uniform.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -When I first met him, the war had not yet -changed his habit. He indulged freely in vituperation -of the officers, from the highest to -the lowest; but this veneer covered a truly -patriotic spirit, for whenever an officer asked -a service he instantly offered himself. He -volunteered for every rough job, and although -he was not strong nor of robust health, he managed -to accomplish the hardest kinds of labor, -and would have died of the effort swearing -that he “wished to know nothing about it, -and no one need expect anything of him.”</p> - -<p>This type of man was very numerous in -France before 1914, and experience has proved -that much could be counted on from them, -whenever the occasion arose to put them to -the test.</p> - -<p>Such as he was, with his comic fury, with -his perpetual tirades against the officers, and -still very evident good-will, he amused us -greatly. One heard often such colloquies as -this:</p> - -<p>“A man wanted to cut down trees!”</p> - -<p>“Take me!” cried Amelus.</p> - -<p>“A volunteer to carry rails!”</p> - -<p>“Here I am!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>Once accepted, bent under the heaviest -burdens, he poured out his heart; he cursed -his ill fortune, he pitied himself, he growled -and groaned. That aroused the irony of Yo. -There was a continual verbal tussle between -the two men, the one groaning and the other -responding with raillery, which spread joy -among us all.</p> - -<p>Yes, we laughed. The tragic events which -were closing in upon us, which were drawing -nearer irresistibly, did not yet touch us sufficiently -to frighten us much. We laughed at -everything and at nothing. We laughed like -healthy young men without a care, men who -have no dread of the morrow, and who know -that, whatever may happen, the soup will -be boiled and the bread will come from the -oven when it is needed. We had not yet become -really grave, certainly no one had suffered, -when, our task of preparing the fort -completed, we went to the embankment and -witnessed the ghastly procession of fugitives. -That froze the heart of each of us. So many -old men, women, and children, thrown out at -random, thrown out to the fierce hazard of -flight, stripped of all their possessions! The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -sight was distressing, and the visible horror of -their situation brought tears to the eyes of -the most stolid.</p> - -<p>The hours passed rapidly. The last French -troops fell back, the town was evacuated. -Trains packed to the last inch carried away -every one who could find room. When we -went out in the evening, we found closed the -shops which had been open the day before. -Their owners were hastening to find shelter -and safety.</p> - -<p>The enemy was approaching. We felt it -by a hundred indications, but we did not suspect -how close he had come.</p> - -<p>He arrived like a whirlwind. One evening -we were told to remain in the fort, to take our -places for the combat, to prepare cannon, cartridges, -and shells. During the day an aeroplane -had flown over the fort, and it was a -German machine. Disquieting news preceded -the invader. It was brought by some straggling -soldiers: men panting, miserable, dying of -thirst and hunger, who had been lost in the -woods, and had covered twenty leagues to -make their escape. They recounted things -almost unbelievable. They had seen Belgian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -villages as flaming torches, and they told their -experiences little by little, with a remnant of -horror in their eyes, and an expression of bravery -on their faces. We gave them drink. They -scarcely stopped their march, but took the -bottles or glasses offered, and emptied them -while continuing on their way. The fear of -being taken bit at their heels. “Save yourselves!” -they cried to the women, “they are -coming!”</p> - -<p>After they were gone, the people gathered -in large groups, seeking further information -on the highroad. The road was clouded with -dust and alive with movement, where other -fugitives, more hurried than the first, pushed -their way, and threw out, in passing, bits of -news still more alarming. Haggard peasants -explained that the Germans were pillaging -houses, ravaging everything. From these -strange reports one would have believed himself -transported into another age, carried back -to the period of the great migrations of -peoples.</p> - -<p>“They have taken away my daughter,” -wailed a woman in tears, “and have set fire -to the farmhouse.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>“They shot my husband!” cried another, -“because he had no wine to give them.”</p> - -<p>The terror of the populace increased and -spread. Mothers went to their houses, gathered -together some clothes and their daughters, -then followed the throng of fugitives. Old -men started out on foot. The threatening flail -swept the country, even before it was seen, -preceded by a groan of agony and of fear as -the thunder-storm is preceded by the wind.</p> - -<p>And we soldiers, with no exact knowledge -of the situation, we awaited orders and completed -our preparations for resistance. We -lifted the drawbridges, we put in place the -ladders, the tubs of water to put out fire, the -tools to clear crushed roofs and arches. We -never thought of flight. We had a sort of pride -in remaining at the last stand, in protecting -the retreat of all the others, and we strove to -give encouragement to the civilians departing. -But we were eager for news, and seized upon -all rumors.</p> - -<p>About four o’clock in the afternoon a rumor -passed like a gust of wind. Some outposts -came running: “They are here!” They told -of the attack on their position five kilometres<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -away. Five of their number had been killed, -six taken prisoner by the Germans. This time -the invasion was rolling upon us. We almost -touched it. We felt the hot breath of battle, -we were going to fight, we were going to offer -resistance.</p> - -<p>This was an impression more than a certainty. -Explosions could be heard in the distance: -the engineers were blowing up bridges -and railroads, in order to create obstacles and -retard the advance of the enemy. The foe -seemed to arrive everywhere at the same time. -He was discerned on the right and on the left, -at each cross-road, advancing in deep columns, -and preceded by a guard of cavalry, the terrible -Uhlans, who were plundering everything -in their way.</p> - -<p>We felt, rather than saw, the nearness of -the invaders. We could do nothing but wait. -In spite of the efforts exerted by the officers -to quiet the men, there was among them an uncontrollable -restlessness: inaction was intolerable.</p> - -<p>It was a great relief to be able to accept, -with several comrades, a piece of work outside -the fort. This had to do with blowing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -up a viaduct. We set out, much envied by -those left behind. We advanced with customary -precaution, following one point of -light carried by an advance-guard. Naturally, -this position was taken by Amelus, the habitual -volunteer, followed by Yo, the giant, whose -muscular force inspired confidence in every -one.</p> - -<p>We had not far to go. At the railway-station, -we learned that the last train had just left, -taking away the portable property of the station, -and all the people who could pack themselves -into the coaches. There was no longer, -then, any assurance of rapid communication -with the rear. The struggle was really commencing.</p> - -<p>Our destination was scarcely two kilometres -away. It was a railway-viaduct crossing a -valley. We arrived quickly. The blast of -powder was prepared in an arch by the engineers; -our part was only to watch and protect -the operation. A sharp detonation, an -enormous cloud of smoke, the whole mass -swaying, splitting, falling, the reverberating -echo, and the route is severed. The trains of -the invasion will be compelled to stop: there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -is an abyss to cross, which will make the assailant -hesitate perhaps an hour. Although -our work was swiftly accomplished, it seemed -that it must be effective. We had nothing to -do but regain our fort and await events.</p> - -<p>However, it is late when we arrive. Night -has fallen. On our left, an immense glow stains -with blood the leaden sky: it is Fourmies which -is burning, fired by the enemy. It is a French -town which is the prey of flames, the first one -we have seen thus consumed before our eyes, in -the horror of darkness; while on the highroad -rolls constantly the flood of refugees, carts, -wagons, carriages, all sorts of conveyances of -town and country, jumbled together with -bicycles and pedestrians, the turbulent throng -of a province in flight, of a people driven by -a horde.</p> - -<p>In subtle ways the fort itself has changed -character. It breathes war. Sand-bags are -placed about the walls, sentinels watch on the -ramparts, orders are given and received under -the arches. Our comrades ask anxiously: -“What have you seen?” We give an account -of our exploit, while eating a hurried bite, then -we imitate our comrades, and, following the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -order received, we take up our sacks and prepare -all our accoutrement.</p> - -<p>There is still some joking, at this instant. -Yo attempts some of his raillery, Amelus once -more pours vituperation on the army, but their -pleasantries fall without an echo. We are -grave. The unknown oppresses us. We are -attentive, and await the slightest order of our -superiors. The commandant calls the officers -together. The conference is prolonged, and -we know nothing precise in the half-light of -our fortress chambers. What is going on? -Will we be attacked this evening? Will the -defense be long? We exchange opinions and -assurances: “There are two hundred rounds -of ammunition apiece!”</p> - -<p>Two hundred rounds! That means how -many hours of fighting? Shall we be reinforced? -Are there troops in the rear? And -in front? No one knows. Those who affirm -that there are troops in front of us meet a slight -credence, which gives way immediately to -doubt and then to a certainty to the contrary. -Numberless contradictory pieces of information -clash together, mingle, intercross:</p> - -<p>“There is fighting at Maubeuge.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>“The enemy is withdrawing on the Meuse!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he has lost all his cannon.”</p> - -<p>“But he is advancing on us here!”</p> - -<p>All these statements jostled each other in -the general uncertainty. Suddenly, at the -door of the chamber, I saw our lieutenant, a -splendid soldier, upright and frank. He was -speaking to one of my comrades. Scenting a -special mission, I approach them. I am not -mistaken. “Silence!” says the officer, “I -need six resolute men, and no noise.”</p> - -<p>“Take me, lieutenant,” I ask.</p> - -<p>“If you wish.”</p> - -<p>“And me, too,” begs Amelus.</p> - -<p>“All right, you too, and Yo. Meet me immediately -in the courtyard, with your knapsacks.”</p> - -<p>We meet in a few minutes. My friend Berthet -rushes in. “Wont you take me, too?” “Certainly. -Come quickly.”</p> - -<p>And now we are outside the fort, with knapsack -and gun. We are delighted with this godsend, -without knowing what it is all about: -at least we are moving about, doing something, -and that is the main thing.</p> - -<p>“Be careful,” commands the lieutenant, -“to the right! Forward, march!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>We leave by the postern gate. We are on -the embankment. The night is dark, the -heavens are black except where the blood-red -reflection of burning towns marks the path -of the Germans. In silence we make our way -down the steep slope of the fort.</p> - -<p>“Halt! Load!”</p> - -<p>We fill the magazines of our rifles. Ten -paces farther on we meet the last sentinels. -The password is given, we proceed. We go -toward the town, as far as the highroad, where -the flight of the distracted populace continues. -Amidst a tangle of conveyances, pedestrians -slip through mysteriously and hurry by. They -jostle us, then make way for us in the throng. -At last we stop. The town is only a hundred -metres distant, without illumination, but much -alive, full of the hubbub of the last departing -civilians.</p> - -<p>“Listen,” says the lieutenant, “this is your -errand: a group of Uhlans has been reported -about eight hundred metres from here. At -this moment they must be occupying the civilian -hospital. They must not be permitted to -pass. Two men will hide themselves here, -two others there. The others will guard the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -cross-road. In case you sight them, give them -your magazine and fall back on the fort to give -the alarm. Do you understand? Go to it!”</p> - -<p>In such moments, one’s intelligence is abnormally -active: one understands instantly, -and each man seems to take his own particular -rôle by instinct. I advance with Berthet to -take the most forward post: it is where adventure -is most likely. The others leave us, -to take their own positions. So there we are, -he and I, alone as sentinels, at the edge of the -highroad—the road which is the path of the -invasion, where rolls unceasingly as a torrent -the stream of fugitives.</p> - -<p>“You tell me what to do,” says Berthet, -“I will take your orders.” “It is very simple,” -I respond, “one knee on the ground. In the -deep grass you will not be seen. For myself, -I am going onto the road itself. I will stop -any one who looks suspicious. Don’t worry, -and don’t let your gun go off unless you hear -me fire.” “Very well.” “Oh, another thing! -If we are attacked, we will fire, then run for -the fort without following the road. Our companions -will fire, and we must cut across the -fields. Do you agree?” “Yes.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>I leave him, to take my post just at the edge -of the road, eyes and ears on the alert, finger -on the trigger. A host of memories crowd -my brain. How often in other days have I -stood guard in just this manner! I recall similar -hours which I experienced in China, at -Tonkin, in the Sahara. I feel once more the -intense poetry which is inspired by such a -vigil: a poetry incomparable to any other; -a poetry in which alert action is mingled with -the strangeness of night, with the thousand -noises of a stirring populace, with the imminence -of danger, with visions crowding up -from the past, with all that surrounds us and -all that flees from us. Less than a fortnight -ago, at this hour, I used to write my daily -article. My young wife, in our dainty dining-room, -was rocking the baby to sleep. Or I -was correcting proof on my forthcoming book, -and she came to sit near me, her fingers busy -with some fine needlework. She always placed -on my desk the flowers from the dinner-table, -and I thanked her for being so good, so pretty, -so loving and thoughtful, by a swift stolen -kiss on her rosy finger-tips. I read to her the -last page I had written. She smiled and approved.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -Our confidence was complete. She -had faith in my ability, I rejoiced to know -that she was mine. We were so happy——</p> - -<p>To-day, with loaded gun, with every nerve -strained, I lie in wait for an advancing enemy. -My wife is far away. She has shelter, at least. -Without doubt she dreams of me, as I dream -of her, and she trembles and she fears the future, -the danger, death. My brothers—where are -they?—and their wives, and our parents, and -all my dear ones, like myself, like all of France, -thrown into war, into danger, into suffering. -And all the children, and all the helpless women, -and old men, all counting on us, on our stoutness -of heart, to defend and to save them.</p> - -<p>My meditations did not in the least interfere -with my watchfulness. From time to -time I stopped a passer-by.</p> - -<p>“Halt there!”</p> - -<p>“We are French.”</p> - -<p>“Advance slowly, one by one.”</p> - -<p>The poor creatures were terrified and bewildered.</p> - -<p>“We are trying to escape!”</p> - -<p>“Pass on.”</p> - -<p>After a bit I return to see Berthet.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>“Anything new?” “No, nothing.” “Supposing -you look around more at the left.” “All -right.”</p> - -<p>I resume my place. All at once, I hear the -clatter of horses’ hoofs. Berthet rejoins me. -“Do you hear that?” “Yes. It must be they. -Don’t forget. Fire, then run across fields.”</p> - -<p>The cavalcade approaches, is clearly audible. -With eyes strained, I can still see nothing in -the blackness. Suddenly I catch the glitter -of helmets.</p> - -<p>“Halt, there!”</p> - -<p>“Gendarmes!” cries a voice, “don’t shoot!” -French gendarmes, in retreat!</p> - -<p>“Advance slowly, one by one.”</p> - -<p>The troop halts. One horseman advances, -stops at ten paces from my bayonet.</p> - -<p>“I am a brigadier of the gendarmes, brigade -of Avor. I have not the password.”</p> - -<p>The voice is indeed French. I recognize -the uniform—but I still fear a possible trap.</p> - -<p>“Command your men to pass, one by one.”</p> - -<p>The order is executed without reply. Some -ten men file by.</p> - -<p>“Look out for yourselves,” says the last -horseman, “the Uhlans are at our heels.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>“Thanks for the information. Tell that -to the officer whom you will meet about a hundred -metres from here.” “Good luck to you.”</p> - -<p><i>Ouf!</i> Berthet and I both grow hot. The -watching brings us together, we remain together. -One feels stronger with company.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It begins to rain—only a mist at first, then -a steady rain. The poor fugitives tramp along, -miserable, driven ghosts, weird figures in the -blackness of the night. Some of them give -scraps of information in passing.</p> - -<p>“They are at the chapel.”</p> - -<p>“They are arriving at Saint Michel.”</p> - -<p>“There are twenty Uhlans at the <i>mairie</i>.”</p> - -<p>Our lieutenant makes his round. “Nothing -new?” “Nothing, sir.” “Very well, I am -going to look about, as far as the town. I will -be back in about fifteen minutes.” “Very -well, sir.”</p> - -<p>He disappears, swallowed up in the darkness. -We wait. It rains harder and harder. The -water runs in rivulets on our shoulders, trickles -down our necks, soaks our shirts. From time -to time we shake ourselves like wet spaniels. -There is nothing to do but wait. It would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -not do to seek shelter. Besides, there is no -shelter. When one is a sentinel in full campaign, -one must accept the weather as it comes. -If it is fine, so much the better; if it is frightful, -too bad! It is impossible to provide comforts, -or conveniences. If the sun burns you -or the rain soaks you, if the heat roasts you or -the cold freezes you, it is all the same. The -strong resist it, the weak succumb: so much -the worse! One is there to suffer, to endure, -to hold his position. If one falls, his place is -filled. So long as there are men, the barrier -is raised and put in opposition to the enemy. -“<i>C’est la guerre.</i>” That is war: a condition -in which only the robust man may survive; -where everything unites madly to destroy, to -obliterate him, where he must fight at the -same time his adversaries and the elements -which seem to play with him as the breeze -plays with the leaf on the tree.</p> - -<p>However, the night was advancing. The -Great Bear, intermittently visible between -the clouds, had already gone down in the sky, -and we were still there. The crowd still surged -on, as dense as ever. The people came from -every quarter. Very few were gathered into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -groups. Here and there some worn-out soldiers -were seen, who asked information and -vanished in haste. In the background of the -dark picture of the night were the burning -villages and towns, but their flames were subsiding, -their ruddy glow was waning. The -fires seemed to have reached the end of their -food, exhausted by a night of violence. Sudden -puffs of sparks rising with the smoke already -foretold their extinction.</p> - -<p>Berthet, my comrade, was pale in the twilight -dawn. “You have had enough of it?” -I say to him. “Oh! no,” he responds, “it is -nothing but nervousness.”</p> - -<p>The most critical moment was approaching: -the dawning of day, that troubled moment -when fatigue crushes the shoulders of the most -valiant, when the vision confuses distances -and blurs objects, when all one’s surroundings -take on a strange, uncanny appearance. Dawn, -lustreless and gray, the dawn of a day of rain, -rising sulkily, drippingly, coming pale and -wan to meet men broken by an anxious vigil, -is not a pleasing fairy, is not the divine Aurora -with fingers of light; and yet, it brings solace. -With its coming the vision is extended; it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -pierces the fog, identifies the near-by hedge, -the twisted birch, the neighboring knoll of -ground. Day breaks. The shadows disappear, -objects regain their natural aspect, and -the terrors created by the night vanish.</p> - -<p>Thus it was with us. I was pleased with -Berthet. He had carried himself well, and I -told him so. That pleased him. He was a -boy whose self-esteem was well developed, who -could impose upon a rather weak body decisions -made by his will.</p> - -<p>“I was afraid of only one thing,” he said, -“and that was that I might be afraid.” I -smiled and answered: “But you will be afraid. -It is only fools who know not fear, or deny it. -Every one knows fear. Even the bravest of -the brave, Maréchal Ney himself, knew it -well.”</p> - -<p>At this moment our lieutenant returned -from his hazardous expedition, without having -observed anything remarkable, and there was -nothing for us to do but wait for other sentries -to relieve us, or for orders specifying a new -mission.</p> - -<p>Nothing of the sort came, at first. If we -had been abandoned in a desert, our solitude<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -could not have been more complete. As far -as the eye could see, we could not detect a -living thing. There were no more fugitives. -We two were guarding a bare highroad where -neither man nor beast appeared.</p> - -<p>At last, some one was seen coming from -the fort. It was a comrade bringing coffee -and news. While we were absorbing with -delight the hot drink which seemed to make -renewed life throb in our veins, he recounted -the events which had taken place behind us, -and in some manner under our protection.</p> - -<p>“The boys,” he said, “have left. The fort -will be blown up. It seems that we have waited -too long already. The Germans have gone -by, now. We are surrounded. No one knows -how those animals slip by, but there is fighting -all around us.”</p> - -<p>“No! Is that true?”</p> - -<p>“Truest thing you know. Last night we -put mines in the powder-magazine. There are -eight metres of fuse. We will light it on -leaving. You are going to see some fireworks.”</p> - -<p>We did not know what to say, at first. We -could not doubt the accuracy of the information<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -supplied by our comrade, but Berthet’s -surprise was extreme. The most difficult thing, -in war, is to be willing to comprehend nothing -of what surrounds you near at hand, and to -content yourself to live as does an animal. -Always one tries to reason, to use logic, and -nothing is further removed from reason and -logic than important events in which one is -plunged, but of which one sees but an infinitesimal -part, too small to form even an approximate -idea of the whole.</p> - -<p>“How,” says Berthet, “could the enemy -pass by in force, without using this road?” -I shook my head. “Who knows?” “I don’t -know how it was done,” declared our comrade, -“but they have passed us. As proof, -three kilometres from here they took by surprise -a squad asleep in a farmhouse. The -Uhlans arrived without any one suspecting, -and made them all prisoners.”</p> - -<p>A sharp whistle cut short our reflections. -Our lieutenant called us. We joined him and -found, at the turn of the road, the entire garrison, -ready for departure. They were only -awaiting the signal from the commandant. -The ranks were formed, the captains were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -mounted on their horses, the lieutenants and -the sergeants were overseeing the last preparations.</p> - -<p>We took our places in silence, not having -slept at all, and having had the sack buckled -on our shoulders for twelve hours in the rain. -The rain had not ceased. The troop was enveloped -in it as in a gray veil, and the wet -faces of the men expressed dejection. Their -moustaches drooped, their caps were pulled -down, their looks were sullen. Even Yo himself, -with his unvarying good humor, could -not find another word with which to revive -the spirits of the men. Only Amelus could -be heard growling somewhat more vigorously -than usual.</p> - -<p>Weather has an enormous effect on the -morale of troops, as on all human agglomerations. -We were all more or less touched by -the malign influence of the rain. No jest flashed -from the ranks as is usual in a French troop, -where bantering springs from the lip involuntarily, -where chaffing is as natural as the air -one breathes, as necessary as bread. A regiment -remains alert and strong so long as this -spirit of optimism remains; but at the moment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -of which I speak, when we were drenched -with rain, when we saw our country invaded, -when we knew ourselves to be surrounded by -the enemy, we were morose and feared the -worst. However, it was only necessary that -there should be an unexpected peal of laughter -to bring light to every face, and that was what -happened soon after we were given the order -to march.</p> - -<p>Indeed, the column was scarcely in motion, -when the irrepressible Yo burst forth with a -raucous tone in one of the most ancient songs -of the march, one of those which are transmitted -from generation to generation. Instantly, -another voice responded, then another, -then a chorus. And then, in the downpour -of rain, on a road so water-soaked that -one sunk to the ankle at each step, it was no -longer a surrounded regiment in flight, but -a troop sprightly, gay, and confident and, like -their Gallic ancestors, having nothing to fear -but this: that the weeping heavens might really -fall on their heads.</p> - -<p>We had not been on the march an hour when -a terrific explosion was heard, reverberating -overhead. It was the mined fort which was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -blowing up. All the work of those last days -was flying into the air in a re-echoing crash of -bricks, ironwork, shells, and guns. Our labor -was wiped out. Nevertheless, it had not been -in vain. Thanks to its existence, the German -army which had faced us had been retarded -twenty-four hours in its advance. Indeed, -their advance-guards had encountered that garrisoned -fort, and had been obliged to await -the arrival of artillery sufficient to reduce and -take it. This delay had permitted the last -French troops to retreat without trouble. They -were safe when the fort, henceforth useless, -blew up. It left nothing for the hand of the -enemy, and its mission was accomplished. -A battle would have added to our work nothing -but blood. Our chiefs were wise in sparing -that.</p> - -<p>It was not until later that we knew all this. -At that moment we did not look so far. We -pursued our way singing, in a deluge of rain, -overtaking distracted fugitives along the route: -exhausted old men, women carrying and leading -children, who moved aside to make way -for us, then stumbled in our wake. We passed -through villages already deserted, a forsaken<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -countryside where the rain beat down the fields -of barley and ripe wheat. On we went. In -passing, we gathered fruit from the trees. At -the fountains and springs we drank water made -turbid by the rain. We sang. We heard, -somewhere, the roar of the cannon. We had no -idea where it thundered so. It seemed ahead -of us and behind us. As we saw nothing terrifying, -as there was no visible evidence of a -battle, we advanced constantly, quite light-hearted, -without knowing that we were passing -through one of the great battles of the -beginning of the war, one of the decisive -struggles which did much to retard the advance -of the enemy; that our column, quite -ignorant of events, was thus marching freely -across the battle of Guise.</p> - -<p>That, at foundation, is not so impossible -as might appear. Shortly after, we had occasion -to verify such zones of silence in the -midst of violent action. Yes, one may be in -the midst of battle and not be aware of it. -Even at Austerlitz the guard had not yet -charged, half the troops had not broken a cartridge, -when the battle was won.</p> - -<p>This time our battle was to be gained by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -our legs, and consisted solely of marching. -And we marched. And we took no account -of fatigue, nor that the men who hastened -along the road were all unaccustomed to marching. -One month before, all of us were civilians. -Some were in offices, bending over books; others -sold dry goods, others were at work-benches -or in construction-yards. We were required -to make an unprecedented effort, to which -none of us was trained. We were asked to -march for hours, for a day, for a night, none -knew how long. We must advance, cost what -it might, follow an unfamiliar road, avoid ambuscades, -regain the rear of our army, rejoin -other formations which, farther on, were grouping -under orders identical with our own.</p> - -<p>We went on. The officers had their orders, -we followed them. And we sang to drive away -fatigue, to forget misery, to escape the thought -of the heavy knapsack, of the cartridges dragging -on our shoulders, of all the military harness, -so useful but so heavy, which weighed -down each step of the soldier. We crossed -fields of freshly ploughed ground. We climbed -slopes, descended hills, traversed plains. We -went straight toward the south, covering on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -foot the route by which we had come to the -fort in the train; a route which had become -interminable, cut only by a pause every fifty -minutes, when one could stretch his aching -limbs, could pierce the swollen blisters on his -heels, could break a crust of bread or drink -a swallow of water.</p> - -<p>Some civilians followed and attached themselves -to us in the hope of protection. There -were women who marched close to the ranks, -others who confided their infants for a stage -to near-by soldiers, still others gave up, exhausted, -and fell on the stones, with eyes rolled -back, full of terror and a sort of reproach. They -felt themselves abandoned, too worn out to -follow longer, given over to all the tragic misery -of the invasion. And we turned our eyes that -we might not see, in an agony of soul that we -must leave them, that we could not help them, -that we could not take them with us; ourselves -crushed by the burdens of the soldier, -hard pushed to arrive at a destination still so -far away, at the spot selected for the halt, -for rest, for sleep.</p> - -<p>We went on, and fatigue began to weigh -upon us. Some comrades suddenly quit the -ranks, threw down their sacks with a wild<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -gesture, and fell to the ground. They were -the physically weak, those first overwhelmed -by the burden, whom the enemy would gather -up in his advance and take away prisoner, an -easily won booty. The underofficers tried to -make these men rise and continue their way, -without much success. They were at the end -of their strength, incapable of further effort. -They gave up and fell. They accepted whatever -fate awaited them. They had struggled -to the extreme limit of endurance. One had -marched for several hours with the soles of -his feet entirely blistered away from the flesh; -another had persisted though suffering intolerably -from hernia. Some had foam on -the chin. Several attempted suicide. Their -firearms were taken from them and were given -to another man to carry for a time. The latter -soon threw them away because of their weight, -first breaking them that they might not be -of service to the enemy. Every one began -to relieve himself of superfluous articles. We -threw away linen and change of shoes; then -rations. We emptied our pockets; discarded -our jackets.</p> - -<p>We marched, and marched, and marched: -a march without end. There was no pause,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -no aim, no goal. We marched. We sought -the horizon, and must push on still, as one -horizon stretched away and gave place to another, -which again must be passed as the first. -The day lengthened. The road was never-ending. -One after the other the hours rolled -on, and still we marched. We encountered -vehicles stuck in the mire, which no one attempted -to help out of the ruts. We encountered -horses in the last throes of agony, struggling -one last time to move one foot before -the other, then stiffening in death. We encountered -automobiles in flames, others in -smoking ashes. We encountered encampments -of poor wretches, waiting at the edge of -the road for a better hour. We encountered -lost children. Here and there we came upon -a house pillaged, devastated, bare, where remained -no crust of bread, where even the wells -had been emptied of water. With difficulty -one could draw from them a little muddy liquid. -The men chewed some beet-roots torn up in a -field, to allay the burning thirst. Then night -approached. We still marched. The twilight -spread her veil of mist and blood. We marched. -The shadows fell. We marched. Night came. -We marched. We stumbled on the stones<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -which seemed to rise from the road; over the -wagon-ruts which cut it, on the slopes which -bordered it. We marched. There were unexpected -stops, when the column, suddenly -halted at some point forward, folded back -upon itself like a telescope. The men jostled -and swore. Wagons were crushed, horses fell, -in an indescribable confusion. Some soldiers -fell, and did not rise again. Then the movement -resumed. We marched again, and -marched, and stopped, and went on.</p> - -<p>There was no more singing. There was no -more talking. Occasionally an oath. We discarded -knapsack, clothing, food, even letters, -in hope of relief, and marched on toward our -goal with groans.</p> - -<p>At last we stopped. We were in the midst -of a black plain, lighted only by a few dim -fires, where the mud was almost knee-deep. -We threw ourselves down, broken, inert masses, -without strength to spread a blanket on the -ground, asleep before we touched the earth. -We had covered seventy kilometres in one -forced march, and no longer heard the cannon.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Thus we slept, like brutes, until morning. -It was not long. The early light shone on a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -marsh made humpy by the bodies of men sleeping -under the mist. There were soldiers of all -departments of service; Zouaves, infantry, -cavalry, artillery, fallen where they happened -to be, without order, and all but a few still -sleeping. These few had lighted large bonfires, -where they warmed themselves. The -light of the fires also attracted many women, -children, and old men, who stretched toward -the grateful warmth limbs stiffened by cold. -The fires were fed with branches of trees, broken -parts of wagons, anything ready at hand without -too much effort to gather.</p> - -<p>The result was a more or less comforting -warmth for the benumbed creatures who -crowded around, in a surprisingly promiscuous -assemblage. Some were heating soup made -from heaven knows what, others attempted to -dry their shirts and blouses, soaked by sweat -and rain. The rain had ceased, but the sky -remained gray, covered with hostile clouds. -The vision was limited by a low-hanging fog. -On the road, the procession of retreat continued -to roll, disordered, in nervous haste -and at the same time slow. The underofficers -reassembled our troop. We must start again,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -enter the column surging along the road, resume -the flight, take up the march, press on -still farther, and gain ground.</p> - -<p>With the new day the cannon again began -to roar. It seemed quite near, although one -could not say exactly where the thundering -came from. One felt hunted down, without -knowing the location of the enemy who pursued -so relentlessly. So the ranks were formed. -Those who still had knapsacks lifted them again -to the shoulder, and again we marched.</p> - -<p>The first steps were difficult. Every joint -was stiff, every muscle ached, and we swore -with every stride. Soon we warmed up to -the exercise and advanced more easily. The -pace was set for five kilometres an hour, and -every one followed.</p> - -<p>Yo had found some wine, no one knows -where. He poured a drop in the cup of each -of his neighbors, and it seemed quite refreshing. -We managed to keep going the entire -morning. After a repose of two hours we -started again, always toward the south, always -pursued by the cannon, which seemed -to move even faster than did we. We neared -Vervins. The outlying parishes indicated it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -at each kilometre, and we were only surprised -that the enemy had preceded us. It was nevertheless -true. He went like the wind, regardless -of broken bridges, obstructed roads, opened -ravines. However fast we went, he went too -fast even for us to follow. He was ahead of -us and behind us. He was reported on both -sides of us. He seemed to be everywhere.</p> - -<p>This is the way of the retreat. However -rapid it seems, it is exceeded in speed by the -enemy. Every difficulty retards the troops -in flight; obstructed roads, slow-moving army -wagons, necessary destruction. The enemy -pushes on. He sends forward his cavalry quite -indifferent to the condition of the land. He -takes strategic points, he occupies mountains, -he bars passes. We must make a détour to -cross a river over which he leaps. We must -save munitions which weigh heavily and impede -our course. We must watch for a safety -which he disdains. He comes and breaks the -embryonic resistance which he encounters, -overthrows battalions already in rout, sweeps -away regiments already disorganized. You -believe he is behind, he is really in front. You -go to the right, he is there. You return to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> -the left, he has forestalled you. Those hours -of torture, when difficulties accumulate to -impede flight, when the mother’s weakness -detains the son, when the weight of a child -is a crushing burden! Those hours of agony, -when all about is burning, when terror is spread -abroad, when only menace is seen on every -hand! Those who have lived through such -hours will never be able to efface them from -the memory.</p> - -<p>We arrived at Vervins, already attacked -by the enemy, but defended by a screen of -troops with some cannon. From the distracted -town, where the detonations rocked the houses -and made the window-panes rattle, one could -watch the battle. Some aeroplanes were flying -about overhead like great birds of war. They -were the first military aircraft, still incomplete -and badly armed. From them the observer -could see but little, and he was obliged -to descend to earth to bring his information. -Such as these machines were, they interested -us much, and seemed to fulfil in the air a remarkable -mission.</p> - -<p>Beyond this observation, the sight did not -prevent some of us from seeking provision.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -It was already very difficult to find food in -that town, where an army had passed. Practically -nothing was left. The shops had wound -up their business and their owners were preparing -for flight. Everywhere were piled up -furniture, scattered straw, torn paper. Nothing -kept its usual course. One paid no matter what -sum for two spoiled eggs. Berthet achieved -a veritable triumph in discovering a pound of -almond chocolate.</p> - -<p>However, the soup was cooked on the -kitchen-stoves in the houses. The quartermasters -distributed meat and bread, at least -as much as they could procure from the commissariat -wagons which had stopped at the -edge of the town. Some wounded men, returning -from the fighting-lines, mingled with -the men carrying wood and water. Some artillery -wagons went through the streets at -full speed, vainly searching some munitions -gone astray.</p> - -<p>In this general turmoil there came to hand -an unfamiliar newspaper: it was the <i>Bulletin -of the Army of the Republic</i>, which the minister -of war had just established, and which was -distributed to the troops. Every one, eager<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -for news, obtained a copy and turned its pages -rapidly, in the hope of gaining some definite -knowledge of events. We read some reports -of victorious progress in Alsace. The reading -gave us some comfort and strengthened our -courage. All was not lost, then, since the -enemy was retreating over there! We exchanged -words of confidence, we reassured -each other: Germany would be beaten, that -was certain. The Cossacks were invading -Prussia, and our retreat signified nothing: -we were at a disadvantageous point of the -field of action, that was all! The enemy, hard -pressed elsewhere, was going to retreat in his -turn, and would be pursued to Berlin.</p> - -<p>Laughter became contagious, and some -joyous souls could not refrain from boasting. -Our fatigue fell from us; we were again serene.</p> - -<p>None the less, it was necessary to continue -the movement already initiated, retreat still -further, resume the march as soon as night -had fallen, gain in all haste a point at the rear -which had been indicated to our chief officers. -We again took the highroad. It was still -crowded, but only by the troops. The fugitive -civilians were obliged to yield it to the army<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -wagons and infantry, and themselves march -across fields. They could be seen in long files, -like migratory tribes, stopped by natural obstacles, -entangled by hedges and hindered by -watercourses. We passed without giving them -aid; there was no time to stop. We were directed -toward Laon, which we must reach -at all cost, in order to organize the resistance -before the arrival of the enemy.</p> - -<p>Laon was far away, and the road was long, -and the sack was heavy, and the march was -at a bruising pace. We braced ourselves for endurance. -Our faces, with several days’ growth -of beard, were streaked with sweat and dirt, -were drawn and haggard from fatigue. We -marched all night without arriving at our goal, -then all day. It was evening when we reached -the citadel perched on its rock, dominating -a vast stretch of plain. We were installed -in an entirely new barrack, and went to sleep -without eating. We were not hungry, which -was well, as there were no provisions. I threw -myself on a bed and fell asleep like a clod. It -would be light to-morrow, one could see clearly -to-morrow; one could wash to-morrow, one -could eat to-morrow.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>That was the way of it. All night the exhausted -troop slept without sentinels, stomach -empty, mouth open, in whatever position they -happened to fall, utterly incapable of any defense. -If the enemy had come, he could have -swept away at a single stroke and without -a struggle ten thousand men. There was not -one of us who could have fired a shot.</p> - -<p>This haste was important. It gave time to -catch our breath. The army having escaped -the German pursuit, saved its quota and could -reorganize.</p> - -<p>“Look at that steep bluff!” said Berthet -to me the following morning. “It seems impregnable, -does it not? Nevertheless, in 1809 -Napoleon’s Marie Louise Battalion took Laon -by storm, from this side, and made a bayonet -charge up those steep slopes, and dislodged -the enemy.”</p> - -<p>As for us, we must first descend the declivity. -The enemy was approaching. His scouts and -advance-guards flashed through the plain in -every direction. He gushed from the woods, -he streamed along the roads, he inundated -the fields. He came from everywhere, as if -the entire earth had vomited Germans. They<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -were innumerable as a cloud of locusts. It -was more like a plague than an army. It was -a barbarian horde pouring itself over our country -and forcing us to retreat again; always -retreat, always faster, without looking back -and without offering resistance.</p> - -<p>We set out once more, madness in our eyes. -Would it never end, this flight? What was -happening? What were our armies doing? -Were we going to fall back as far as Paris? or -perhaps still farther, as far as the Loire? We -no longer knew what to think. We no longer -possessed speech or ideas. The chiefs knew -no more than the men. They no longer attempted -to explain. Our lieutenant carried -the knapsack of a man gone lame, and marched -chewing a cigar. Our commandant went up -and down the length of the column with a -sombre air, and no one dreamed of singing.</p> - -<p>These were the first days of September. -The air was still hot and stifling. Some men, -made giddy by the sun, fell in crumpled masses. -Sweat ran off our bodies, rusted the arms in -our hands. A suffocating dust filled the air -and covered faces and clothing with an ever-thickening -layer. Throats were parched, eyes -haggard, shoulders bleeding.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>Berthet fell. I helped him up, he fell again. -He could go no farther, and I feared that I -would see him die there of exhaustion. I rubbed -him, made him drink a little mint. Then I -put him in the shade and went foraging. I -discovered some water and a fresh egg, which -I made him take. He swallowed it, only half -conscious. Then I saw a resurrection. He -sat up, light returned to his eye and color to -his cheek.</p> - -<p>Thus he was saved; but how many remained -on the route, easy prey for brutal German -soldiers, and how many died, their names unknown! -The plains of Thierache and of the -Aisne alone know how many fell by the way, -victims of exhaustion, during the great retreat, -when the foul enemy already scented Paris -and believed it within his grasp; superhuman -retreat, which spread for the foe the snare of -the Marne, that miracle which the passing -centuries will hold in remembrance.</p> - -<p>Such was the retreat, from my view-point -as a humble soldier of the ranks, from my position -as an atom lost in the immense movement. -Others will recount its strategic value; -others will explain its grandeur. I have seen -only what I have here related, I, a little cog<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -in the huge tragedy, and I am proud to have -lived those hours. Other great hours were to -follow, but those passed through were not the -least wonderful.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">IV<br /> - - -<small>WAITING</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">WE took with us on our retreat some -prisoners captured at Guise, during -our frenzied flight; some dozen -men, whom the gendarmes conducted, handcuffs -on wrists. They excited much curiosity.</p> - -<p>These soldiers did not give a very proud -idea of the battle, nor of the enemy army. -They were poor devils, dressed in gray, whose -boots of tan leather alone drew attention. -These looked very well, but were too narrow -for the feet, and several men limped in a ridiculous -manner.</p> - -<p>Chained with them marched some civilians, -marauders or spies, also being conducted to -the rear. One of them attempted escape one -night. Immediately retaken, one hour later -he stood before a court martial, whose sombre -appearance is graven on my memory.</p> - -<p>It was a simple village house, with green -shutters. A sentry stood at the door. Through -the open windows one could see the tribunal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -in session, and the accused defending himself. -The trial was brief and tragic. Five officers -were seated in a commonplace dining-room, -with an extension-table for a desk, at the end -of which two clerks were writing. At the end -of the room, in front of the buffet, some -gendarmes guarded the accused. The contrast -between the austere scene and its setting -was striking. There a man was being judged, -there his life or death was the subject for decision; -and the cannon were roaring, quite -near, and the retreating army was filling the -village street.</p> - -<p>I saw the man plead his cause, standing, -gesticulating. The judges listened attentively -and gravely. Not a muscle of their countenances -moved; they seemed made of wax. -Their caps made splashes of scarlet and gold -on the table. On the wall behind the presiding -officer hung a naïve picture of a country -fête. The hanging lamp appeared to have -been in the way: it was unhooked and put -in a corner. I could plainly hear the voices, -though I could not distinguish the words. The -accused implored. He clasped his hands and -fell on his knees. Then he uttered a cry....<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -The gendarmes dragged him away. His place -was taken by another prisoner.</p> - -<p>The next day, when we were leaving, he -was missing. He had been shot at sunrise.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We finished the retreat by railway, finding -a train which had come as far as a broken bridge -and was turning back on its route. We were -shut up in the carriages three entire days. -Though it seemed an interminable journey, -nevertheless it ended with our return to our -starting-point.</p> - -<p>This return, of a fantastic duration (our -whole trip could be made in eight hours in -time of peace) occupied the first days of the -battle of the Marne. Yes, while the destiny -of the world hung in the balance, while the -most formidable struggle the earth had ever -seen was in progress, we were packed into boxes -on wheels, we were shunted about and loitered -on the rails like so much useless merchandise. -Our train moved, stopped, went into a station, -departed, stopped again. We remained for -hours on grassy tracks where no train had -passed for months. We borrowed unfamiliar -routes, we lost our way on unknown switches.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -Sometimes we stopped in a tunnel, or in the -midst of a deserted countryside. Sometimes -we halted at a town where the inhabitants -crowded about us, bringing provisions of all -sorts: bread, wine, meat, and fruit, and fêted -us in a thousand ways. The people questioned -us eagerly. The greater number had a son or -brother in the army, and naïvely asked news -of them. We had no information whatever, -but exchanged assurances of an early victory. -In spite of what we had seen, our confidence -remained unbroken, and we gave much comfort -to those who saw only disaster ahead. -We maintained that the French advance continued -constantly in Alsace, that the Germans -were retreating everywhere, that the Russians -were galloping on Berlin by forced marches. -We were certain that Germany was rushing -to suicide, and our certainty was eagerly demanded -in exchange for the presents received. -The sympathy of all these people was touching. -It seemed as though we were all one family -with these, our own French people, who were -giving us so hearty a welcome. We felt so -grateful for their reception that we would have -liked to embrace them all.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>Then the train started. We exchanged -hearty adieus as we went away—only to stop -a little farther on for another lapse of time. -After three full days of this we reached our -destination. We had traversed half of France, -and were now going to recuperate for new -hardships.</p> - -<p>Our camp was located in a little village -buried in verdure, in the midst of a calm countryside, -as far from the war as possible. Very -little news reached this out-of-the-way spot; -newspapers were old when they arrived. The -populace lived as usual, groaning a bit to keep -in countenance, but not suffering any real -inconvenience.</p> - -<p>We were soon bored to death. In spite of -the daily exercises, in spite of the drills, in -spite of the preparations and small side comedy -of war, we longed for the tempest, for the great -whirlwind which was sweeping away our -brothers over yonder, toward the east. Only -its echoes reached us. There was the Marne; -there was the German retreat; there was the -digging of trenches, the line stretched to the -sea; there was the Yser.</p> - -<p>Yet here we stayed. Time passed heavily.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -We felt much aggrieved: it seemed that the -war was bound to be too short to offer us a -sufficient revenge. We gave up hope of returning -to the front, so long did the days seem -while our comrades were doing the fighting.</p> - -<p>Berthet and I never ceased to fret. Inertia -crushed us. We would have accepted no matter -what offer of an errand in order to go away, -to have action, to quit the tranquil country -where we were vegetating, to find again adventure, -to run risks: in short, to live. It -seemed to us that we spent months there, stagnating. -In reality it was six weeks.</p> - -<p>In that apparent inaction the regiment was -putting itself in condition. One day twelve -hundred men were selected for reinforcements -to join a neighboring division of the army. -There were touching farewells. Those who -were leaving, feverish with joy, shook hands -proudly with those who remained behind, -and who were envious to the last man. None -of these, however, was destined to return unharmed. -All were mowed down on the plains -of Champagne in their first engagement, and -their places were filled by new comrades from -other camps.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>That also is an aspect of war. One does -not keep constantly the same comrades, nor -even the same officers. The army is a living -organism which undergoes constant wear and -rebuilding. At first, one gladly believes that -he will always have the same neighbors, that -he will be with the same sergeant, that he will -be surrounded by the same faces until the end. -Then one comrade is transferred to another -regiment, another merely disappears. Another -is called to a distance: he goes and never returns. -Soon one finds himself the only man -remaining of the original group. The company -has not fought, it has not suffered murderous -losses, and still its personnel has been renewed.</p> - -<p>Yo is gone. Amelus is gone. Happily, -Berthet remains for me, and I for him. We -will not leave each other. We believe it since -we desire it, and we are almost sure that we -will be able to mould the future to our wish; -such is the immense vanity of man.</p> - -<p>Thus we spent our days, soldiers without -being soldiers, soldiers of time of peace, tied -down to puerile exercises, to imaginary assaults, -to supposititious battles. We champed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -our bits. We longed for the struggle, we awaited -our turn with growing impatience.</p> - -<p>It came at last. One evening the order to -go forward arrived. The regiment was ready, -solid, high-spirited, complete. It set out: all -felt a secret thrill. At last we were going to -the Front, we were going to know, to fight, -and to die!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">V<br /> - - -<small>LA PIOCHE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IT is night. It is raining. The train stops -at a station. We have arrived. But -where? No one knows. All is black. -All is sombre. All is sinister. All is threatening. -We alight from the carriages to stretch -our legs.</p> - -<p>“Silence!” growl the officers. “In two -ranks, quick!” Along the platform we fall -in line as well as possible in the dark, our knapsacks -on our backs, and, over all, the rain.</p> - -<p>“Forward.”</p> - -<p>We reach a road; a road that feels hard -under the feet. A damp chill arises from the -invisible earth and the rain glues our clothing -to our skins. Our shoes are heavy with mud. -We march. Each follows the comrade who -stumbles along ahead, and whom one can hardly -see. One hears only the rustling of the trees, -the confused sound of steps, a brief exclamation, -an oath. We go straight ahead where -we are led; through the dark toward the unknown.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>“Silence!” hiss the chiefs, “we are close to -the enemy. Not a word; not a cigarette.”</p> - -<p>A sort of apprehension grips us. The fear -of the unknown binds us. It is not the certainty -of danger: it is worse. It is an inexpressible -anguish. One is in danger from invisible -blows that will fall unawares. We -mount a hill. At the summit one has a view, -a darkly shut-in view, whose walls of black -are pierced by flashes of fire; mere sparks in -the distance. Artillery! This which we look -down upon is the Front. There, below us, -at a considerable distance still, they are fighting. -With throbbing hearts, eager to advance, -to arrive at the place destined for us, we -peer into the cannon-starred curtain of the -night.</p> - -<p>But the march continues to be slow. One -slips on the muddy ground, one skids, one -swears. As we go down the hill the stirring -sight is blotted out like dying fireworks, and -we are once more in a shut-in road, whose embankments -add to the blackness and cut off -all outlook.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, the confused sounds of the -battle carry up the slope to our marching troop.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -Somewhere, down there, a lively artillery duel -crashes in fury and the brilliant flashes of light -dart their resplendent triangles into the heavens. -Is it there we are going? No one knows. One -feels his heart thrilled and a little shaken by -the nearness. Instinctively one touches elbows -with his neighbor, tightens his grip on his rifle; -becomes silent.</p> - -<p>All the time we advance. Occasionally there -are stops; sudden, unlooked-for stops. Then -one starts on. Soon we reach some houses. -We are entering the street of a village and the -shaded lanterns cast weird shadows on the -walls. The column crowds together. We -catch our breath.</p> - -<p>“We camp here,” say the sergeants.</p> - -<p>The orders are sent along the line. There -is a moment of rest; then the squads break -up. Every one seeks his place of shelter. We -are quartered in the buildings of a large farm. -I and my companions are billeted in a barn -and we stamp our feet on the unthreshed wheat -which has been stored there. Each begins -hollowing out a place to sleep.</p> - -<p>“Make no lights,” order the sergeants, “you -will be spotted.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>“Eh, boys!” calls a voice, “where do you -come from?”</p> - -<p>And from between the bundles of straw we -see the up-lifted heads of several soldiers. Approaching -them, we find that they have been -comfortably sleeping in their straw nests, and -that our arrival has awakened them. We question -them:</p> - -<p>“What is this place, here?”</p> - -<p>“It is Taissy.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!”</p> - -<p>“Is it far from the trenches?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, mon garçon; only about fifteen -hundred metres.”</p> - -<p>Then they tell their story. They are cripples, -mostly lame, who are waiting for vehicles to -take them back to the dressing-stations. They -have been in the trenches for a month; they -have fought; they give details of their battles. -We do not see them. We hear only detached -phrases which come to us confusedly out of the -night.</p> - -<p>“A dirty hole. We lost a heap of men.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a fort up there which we recaptured.”</p> - -<p>“There were three counter-attacks.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>“Then, a dirty canal full of rotten meat. -What a stink!”</p> - -<p>Suddenly some furious detonations rend -the air. Every one is silent. We listen.</p> - -<p>“That’s nothing,” say the old-timers, “it’s -only our battery firing. But if the Boches -answer you will see something!”</p> - -<p>“Do they often reply?”</p> - -<p>“Hell, yes! Every day. Half of the village -is already pounded to pieces.”</p> - -<p>“Ouf!”</p> - -<p>It is true. A comrade who has been prowling -around outside comes back:</p> - -<p>“The next farmhouse is demolished. The -roof is gone and the walls are like a sieve.”</p> - -<p>“Silence!” growl the sergeants. “Go to -sleep. You must fall in at five o’clock to-morrow -morning.”</p> - -<p>The conversations cease. Each one picks -out a place, buries himself in the straw, and -sinks into sleep as a ship is engulfed by the -waves.</p> - -<p>It is our first night under fire. Perhaps some -of us do not find untroubled slumber, but there is -no alarm and to stay awake is useless. Besides, -there is nothing to do but sleep. So we sleep.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>At dawn we are afoot. We can see that the -war is not far distant. The near-by houses are -disembowelled, and such walls as still stand are -pierced by great round holes where the shells -passed. Certain roofs seem like lace, their -rafters blackened by fire and rain. We are -curious, and run about that we may not miss -seeing any of the damage done by the bombardment.</p> - -<p>“Back to your quarters!” cry the non-coms. -“To go out is forbidden.”</p> - -<p>We hardly heard them, and they had to -use force to hold back the men and prevent -their scattering in the village streets. The -officers came to the rescue. Then we obeyed. -Soon came the order to fall in, the roll was -called, and as soon as the knapsacks were -buckled to the shoulders we started on. We -were going to the trenches.</p> - -<p>The cannonade incessantly grew louder. -We followed a road bordered with trees and -masked by underbrush; a road leading toward -the noise. Every eye sought for signs of this -unknown thing into which we were marching. -They were not lacking. Everywhere broken -branches hung from the trees, and frequently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -we passed ruined houses whose peasant owners -dumbly watched our marching troop. On we -marched. We crossed a bridge and entered -another village, a hamlet entirely deserted, -mutilated, horrible to look at, like a wounded -man lying on the ground. Its houses, after -their years of tranquillity, had suffered a terrible -assault. They were riddled with shells; -their walls were like a moth-eaten garment. -We could see the interiors still fully furnished; -curtains still hanging at windows where all -the glass had been shattered; half-open buffets, -occasionally with their mirrors intact. Only -a glimpse did we catch as we passed. Then -we left the ruins and, for a time, followed a -canal. This we crossed by a frail foot-bridge -and found ourselves in a narrow ditch—a communication-trench—the -first we had seen. We -descended into the earth, following this narrow -chink which reached to our shoulders and, at -times, entirely concealed us. This boyau wound -its way about, turning and zigzagging apparently -without reason. We traversed it in single -file, seeing nothing but the back of the man in -front and the two walls of smooth clay cut perpendicularly -to the bottom.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>It was a sight unfamiliar to all: an extraordinary -journey, a thing of mystery, the entering -of an infernal region where feelings of -humanity were left behind.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a rapid whistling passed over our -heads, which were lowered in one simultaneous -movement. Another followed, then another -and, a little behind us, three explosions resounded -with a noise like the tearing of silk -amid a jangling of metals. We had received -our baptism of fire.</p> - -<p>We advanced more quickly in an eagerness -to reach our underground home. We bumped -the walls, sometimes so close together that -our knapsacks stuck fast, so that we had to -tear them loose with a considerable effort. -All the time we shuddered at the nasty whistle -of the shells, which passed to fall and crash -behind. One felt that he must escape; must -get out of this place where, if he remained, he -was sure to be mashed like a strawberry in a -marmalade. The march quickened so that -we almost ran, staggering against the trench -walls at every sudden turn of its meandering -course and always, above us, that terrible -screaming and those crashing explosions.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>Lord! But our cheeks were pale and our -looks anxious. Later we stood it better as -we became accustomed to it. This, however, -was our first moment under fire, our first meeting -with the foe, and we felt crushed by the -narrow confines of this fissure in which we -could only follow the column—a column without -end, which straggled over too great a length -in spite of the efforts of the officers to hurry -the men and to close up the distances.</p> - -<p>Suddenly we emerged into open ground. A -railroad-embankment with its rails in place, -its telegraph-poles still standing and occasionally -a flagman’s house still in good condition, -hid us from the enemy. At one bound -we glued ourselves to this embankment, flattening -our bodies on the ground; for the German -shells continued to lash the air, while -out on the plain gray puffs marked their explosions.</p> - -<p>Some comrades, whose easy gait showed -their familiarity with the place, were already -advancing toward us. They motioned to us -and pointed out the dugouts.</p> - -<p>“This way. Don’t stay there.”</p> - -<p>We followed their directions on the run and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -entered by groups into the shelters they had -indicated. Here, packed together so closely -that we could not budge, we waited for the -storm to pass. In the abri were some wounded -on their way to the dressing-station, and we -felt the deepest emotion at seeing the stretchers -with their mangled and groaning burdens.</p> - -<p>At last the firing stopped. We waited for -orders. The sergeants were called together -for instruction. Soon they came back and -then our work began. We first laid aside our -knapsacks and grouped ourselves by squads. -Then we picked out tools from a long pile of -shovels and pickaxes, and followed the non-coms -along the embankment, a little nervous, -it is true, but curious about the work we were -to do.</p> - -<p>“Two picks, one shovel,” came the order. -“Two picks, one shovel,” repeated the sergeants -as they placed us at our distances.</p> - -<p>“Voilà! You are going to dig here. Loosen -the ground with the picks and clear it away -with the shovels. Do you understand?”</p> - -<p>Then we went at the work. It was the beginning -of our first trench. Gradually we -heated up; we hacked at the soil; we shovelled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -it away; we spat on our hands; we struck -again; we wiped away the perspiration. Occasionally -some shells seemed to leap over -the embankment and passed, screeching, on -their way. We dodged at the sound and then -laughed at our involuntary movement. Then -we straightened up to catch our breath, and -in the moment inspected our workyard and -glimpsed the neighborhood. The embankment -of the <i>chemin de fer</i> entirely protected -us from the enemy. At a little distance two -rows of trees marked the way of the canal we -had crossed. Between the parallel lines of -the canal and the railroad was a field of beets, -humped in places with bodies of men that -one had not had time to bury; while here and -there crosses marked the fallen of the earlier -days of the struggle.</p> - -<p>We saw all this at a glance, and quickly -bent ourselves back to the earth and our toil. -Our rifles hampered us in our work, and we laid -them on the freshly heaped-up earth, taking -care to protect them from sand. We did not -know why they were making us do this digging, -or what good purpose was to be served -by our labor; but we worked on unremittingly,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -proud to accomplish the necessary task, proud -to be at work and to feel so calm in the midst -of war.</p> - -<p>“You are lucky,” said one of the veterans -standing near by. “The sector is calm to-day. -You would not have been able to do that yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Lively, was it?”</p> - -<p>“You’ve said something. But tell me, have -you come to relieve us? It’s not a bit too -soon.”</p> - -<p>“We don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“It’s likely that is what we’re here for,” -added some one.</p> - -<p>In reality, no; we did not know. They had -sent us there and there we stayed. After all, -no one seemed able to give us an explanation, -and we didn’t try to explain things ourselves. -They told us to hurry and we hurried. That -was all. In the meantime our tracks were -burying themselves. The ditch was already -knee-deep, and by so much it diminished the -stature of each of the diggers. No one stopped -us, so we kept on, digging furiously, as if the -final victory depended on our effort of this -moment.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>When evening came and twilight enveloped -us in her soft, purple mantle, the violent note -of the cannon barked only intermittently, and -the gusts of bullets, wailing in the air, sounded -like swarms of musical insects swiftly regaining -their homes. We believed the hour of repose -was near. But we were mistaken: another -task awaited us. It was necessary to take -advantage of the night to cross the embankment, -gain the first line and take our position.</p> - -<p>In these first weeks of intrenched warfare, -movements of this sort were relatively easy. -We were hidden in the darkness: we had only -to leap the embankment and move to our places. -The enemy replied only when he heard a noise, -and fired quite at random. His commonest -field-piece was the light seventy-seven, which -barked loudly but did little damage, and the -workmen of the two camps matched their skill -at only a hundred metres’ distance, without -hurting each other very much.</p> - -<p>This evening they placed us behind some -trees at a roadside.</p> - -<p>“Fire only on order,” said the officers. “One -of our companies is out in front fixing the wire. -If you fire, you risk wounding your comrades.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>They repeated their instructions to the sergeants -and thus began our first night at the -front. Each one watched as well as he could, -straining his eyes in the effort to pierce the -blackness, hearing the blows of the mallets -on the stakes and thrilling at the fusillade.</p> - -<p>A night is long. A night in November is -cold. It freezes. We shivered out there in -the dark, but we did not dare to budge. The -noise of shooting was almost constant, and -bullets were striking everywhere about us, -ringing on the stones, clipping twigs from the -trees or sinking dully into the soil. Our teeth -chattered; we shivered; we tried to warm -our hands by rubbing them. Some rash ones -stamped their feet to restore the circulation, -and from time to time we heard a muffled conversation. -We didn’t know where we were -nor the distance which separated us from the -enemy. We feared a possible ambush, a surprise -attack maybe, and we pinched ourselves -to keep awake. The hours seemed deadly -long.</p> - -<p>At last we saw the dirty gray of dawn overspread -the sky and slowly dissipate the thick -mist that rose from the earth. Clumps of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -trees and underwood, little by little, took form. -No sooner were they fully visible than a terrible -fusillade broke out, lashing the air like -a thousand hisses; a crackling shower of bullets -that rolled and rattled like hail. They cut -the branches just above us and made the pebbles -fly. We crouched to the ground; buckling -our sacks, gripping our guns, hunching our -shoulders and tensing our legs to be ready for -the expected attack.</p> - -<p>“Get ready to go back,” whispered the sergeants -and the order was repeated along the -line. We crept, we crawled like slugs, profiting -by the smallest tuft of grass, the shallowest -recess in the ground that might serve as a -shield, but with little hope of escape.</p> - -<p>Some furious discharges of seventy-fives -cracked with such rapidity and precision that -they comforted us. We felt sustained and -protected and steadied ourselves. We were -annoyingly hampered by our heavy equipment, -our inconvenient cartridge-boxes and -all our cumbersome accoutrement. Suddenly -a man was wounded. He cried out, and, losing -all prudence, arose, ran, crossed the embankment -and fled to the shelter. Instinctively<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -we followed his example. On the way another -man was wounded and fell. Two of his companions -seized him and, dragging him between -them, struggled to safety, in the shelter of the -railroad-bank. It was finished. We reassembled. -We were muddy, bruised, and wounded; -eyes red from loss of sleep, and mouths drawn, -but, just the same, we were content. Thenceforth -we were soldiers. We had faced danger. -True, we had not fought, but we were ready.</p> - -<p>Our rôle had just commenced. We had -occupied this sector to fit it up as this novel -thing, this underground war, demanded. This -task achieved, we were to be its defenders. -It was necessary to dig trenches that we might -no longer watch from the scanty shelter of -trees; to improve on these primitive holes -that had been dug, to serve temporarily, at -the beginning of the battle. Therefore we dug -trenches. It was necessary to connect them -with communication-channels. Therefore we -dug boyaux. We had to install redans, build -firing benches or banquettes<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> and construct<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -dugouts. All these things we did. We dug -in the earth day and night. We gathered up -cubic metres of soil and threw them out in -front to heighten our parapet. We used our -shovels and picks; we sweat; we suffered; we -froze.</p> - -<p>The winter rolled on. December brought -intense cold. Ice and snow covered the land, -and while we watched the foe, our rifles froze -in the loopholes. We ate when we were lucky. -The kitchens were far in the rear, and when -the soup and coffee arrived they were ice-cold. -The service men started early with their mess-pails, -but they stumbled in the trenches and -often spilled more of the soup and wine than -they brought. We ate badly; we slept little: -we always dug. We never rested. There were -heavy materials to be carried; the stakes for -the entanglements, the spools of wire, the sheet -iron, the posts, and the timbers. There was -nightly patrol duty, the hours on guard, the -attack to repulse, endless holes to be bored -in the earth. In the daytime one slept where -he could, curling up in the mud at the bottom -of the trench or seeking to avoid the rain by -crawling into some fissure. At night we stole<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -out into No Man’s Land and stalked the foe -or dug a listening-post. We watched the illuminating -rockets. We plunged to shelter -when they threatened to expose us to fire.</p> - -<p>We lived there some strenuous hours, some -terrible weeks. Some suffered from trench -foot, some froze to death, some were killed. -These are terrible things: these nights on guard, -these nights hugging the ground when on patrol, -these nights in the listening-post when the -body chills, becomes numb, and loses all sensation. -One goes on detail and loses one’s way. -One falls, dumb with fatigue, and an alarm -sounds. One starts to sleep and an attack -rages.</p> - -<p>War is a thing of horror. It is more. The -very soil is hollowed out like dens of beasts; -and into these creep human beings. The rain -saturates the trench and rots legs and wood -alike. The corpse hangs on the wire and serves -as a target. War is cold, war is black, war is -night. It is, in truth, such a horror that those -who have lived these hours may say: “I was -there. But to tell about it is to live it over -again. And that is too much.”</p> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_133.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">Emmanuel Bourcier at the front in the sector of Rheims in 1915.</p> - -<p>As for us, we suffered. At first we had no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -dugouts and slept beneath the open sky. We -had no trenches and stalked our foe while waist-deep -in mud. In December’s cold we had no -fire. This which we saw, which we defended, -which the foe destroyed, was France. Our -land was invaded, profaned by the German, -and we could not retake it. These conquered -forests, these occupied cities, these subjugated -plains, these mountains polluted, were our -native soil and we could not regain them. The -sacred homeland was under the boot of the -German. Was this the death-rattle in the -throat of the republic?</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VI<br /> - - -<small>THE GAS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE severe winter ran its course. We -had worked incessantly. We had a -whole sector to ourselves. First, there -was the tangled network of barbed-wire, a -piece of work in which we all had a share. Each -evening, as night fell, a company of men went -out on No Man’s Land to work in the thick, -treacherous darkness. One gang dug holes -and put in the posts, another stretched the -parallel wires, another attached the transverse -wires. As this required great blows of a mallet, -it made considerable noise, which drew down the -enemy’s gun-fire. As they gained experience, -the men went out rapidly, worked swiftly, and -returned to our trenches only when their task -was accomplished. At dawn, the Boches tried -to destroy our work of the night before, by -firing many volleys into the network. The -damage was never considerable, and they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -stopped that game when, imitating them, we -cut their barbed-wire to pieces.</p> - -<p>Under that efficacious protection we contrived -openings for listening and firing trenches. -At the first, two men alternated in a constant -lookout, with ear quick to catch any sound, -with eyes strained to observe the most minute -sign. Behind them, on the benches,<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> entire -sections, with guns poised in the loopholes, -waited and watched from twilight to dawn, -while the others slept, down in the shelters -underground.</p> - -<p>This organization constituted the first lines -in the spring of 1915, when we hoped for an -early victory. So temporary did the work -appear to be, we spent no more time and effort -on our trench systems than seemed necessary -for immediate purposes. The dugouts were -of the most limited dimensions, really kennels, -large enough for two men to sleep fairly comfortably, -but which usually housed six, no -one knows how. One came there overcome -by sleep. One threw himself on the ground<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -without removing his accoutrement, and was -asleep almost before touching the earth. To -afford some protection against the bitter wind, -a cloth was stretched in front of the opening. -While this shut out the unwelcome breezes, -it also shut in a concentrated, hot and malodorous -steam, composed of the mouldy moisture -from the earth itself, of human perspiration -and panting exhalations, of wet leather and -clothing. However, one breathed somehow. -When the time was up, and one went out to -resume work or watching, the icy air enveloped -one like a sepuchral winding-sheet, and the -night blinded one’s eyes. One followed the -communication-trench, took up gun or shovel, -as the order might happen to be, and became -either soldier or laborer; or, more often, both -at once. Everything was done at night. Everything -was dismal, dangerous, frightful. There -was no real repose, no relaxation. The incessant -shell-fire added its horror to our other -discomforts and dangers. The shell! that insensate -creature of chance, which bursts over -the innocent, scatters its fragments over the -plain, and in stupid indifference crushes a clod -of earth or snuffs out the lives of a hundred<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -human beings. The shell! that monster which -comes with a moaning wail, invisible as a beast -of darkness, and dies in a shower of fire.</p> - -<p>One easily becomes familiar with its sound. -At first, every shot was terrifying. Then we -learned to know approximately what course -a shell would follow, at what point it would -fall. Then we ceased to listen to or fear any -but those coming our way. No others counted. -They were non-existent.</p> - -<p>Before we reached this point of familiarity, -the salvos of that plaything, the seventy-five, -made us shudder. They came so fast that -we scarcely had time to distinguish the individual -shots. Immediately the deadly whistling -object skimmed the ground, and the explosion -resounded. Some men turned pale, -others paid little attention.</p> - -<p>Berthet and I found much in this life to -interest us. We ran about to see whatever -could be seen. As soon as a cannonade began, -we went in that direction for the pleasure of -observing it. We volunteered for all sorts of -difficult tasks, tempted by the risk, enticed -by the eternal charm of adventure. He was -brave, was Berthet, but knew not how brave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -he was. Sometimes I sought to restrain him, -at which he was always astonished. “I wish -to know,” he said, “if I will be afraid.” And -he had his way. He went out on the embankment, -where he inspected the horizon regardless -of the projectiles which saluted his silhouette -as soon as he appeared.</p> - -<p>We had some magnificent spectacles. One -evening there was a bombardment followed -by infantry attack. The German uneasiness -had been evident in the morning. It expressed -itself by a storm of projectiles which fell aimlessly -and did little damage. The shells cut -the grass, exploded like a sheaf of fireworks, -sent the dirt flying high into the air. It worried -us at first, then, as we found ourselves safe in -the shelter of our deep trenches, assurance -returned. Each man went about his business. -Some were detailed to dig a tunnel, one must -go to the kitchens to fetch soup and bread, -another cleaned the arms, rusted during the -night by the fog, or in the morning by the dew. -All the same, this violent bombardment troubled -our officers not a little; they feared a surprise. -We had a visit from our general toward evening. -He gave some orders, took a look at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -the loopholes of observation, and went away -apparently content. His calm was most reassuring.</p> - -<p>Calm is not everything in war. The plans -of the enemy must also be taken into account. -The Boche artillery became violent. Over -our trenches streamed a fire of shells of all -calibers mingled. They fell tearing away whole -banks of earth at once; they exploded thunderously, -in a cloud of dust and stinking smoke. -We looked for the worst; we suspected a close -attack, a hand-to-hand clash. Suddenly a great -cry rang out:</p> - -<p>“The gas!”</p> - -<p>It was true. Over there, from the enemy’s -lines, came great greenish balls, rolling close -to the earth, rolling deliberately yet swiftly, -rolling straight toward us. Gas! That horrible -thing, still almost unknown, which had -been used for the first time only recently on -the Yser. It was coming with deadly surety -amidst a tornado of artillery. Orders were -shouted back and forth:</p> - -<p>“The gas! Put on the masks!”</p> - -<p>Each man spread over his face the protecting -cloth. The shelters were closed. The telephone,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> -whose wires ran the length of the communication-trenches, -gave the warning: “Look -out! The gas!”</p> - -<p>We did not yet know what manner of horror -it was. None of us had experienced an attack -of the sort. We ran to and fro like ants whose -hill has been molested. Some fired their guns -at random, others awaited orders. The frightful, -livid thing came on, expanded to a cloud, -crept upon us, glided into the trenches. The -air was quickly obscured. We were swimming -in an atmosphere stained a venomous color, -uncanny, indescribable. The sky appeared -greenish, the earth disappeared. The men -staggered about for a moment, took a gasping -breath, and rolled on the ground, stifled. There -were some knots of soldiers who had been asleep -in their beds when overtaken by the gas. They -writhed in convulsions, with vitals burning, -with froth on the lips, calling for their mothers -or cursing the German. We gathered them -up as best we could; we took them to the doctors, -who, thus confronted by an unknown -condition, found themselves powerless. They -tried the application of oxygen and ether in -an effort to save the lives of the victims, only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -to see them die, already decomposed, in their -hands.</p> - -<p>The masks had not yet been perfected and -were a poor protection. Some ran about like -madmen, shrieking in terror, the throat choked -with saliva, and fell in heaps, in contortions of -agony. Some filled the mouth with handfuls -of grass and struggled against asphyxiation. -Others, down in the shelters, sprinkled face -and neck with brackish water, and awaited -a death all too long in coming.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> Over all this -the artillery shrieked in unchained madness. -The sky was of steel, quivering and molten. -There were no longer any distinctly heard -shots, but a storm of fire. It roared, it whistled, -it exploded without respite, as if all the -furies of hell were yelping, in a thick, metallic -sky. At the left, little by little, an ever-reddening -glow showed the neighboring city of -Rheims, which the Boches were bombarding -in a mad rage of destruction. We saw the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -flames leap up, the houses kindle like torches -and throw toward the sky clouds of sparks -and streams of black and red smoke. Everything -seemed flaming and tottering and falling -in a wild delirium. The earth itself opened to -swallow the last survivors. In the trenches -the bodies of the dead were heaped, and twisted -or bleeding corpses choked the passageways.</p> - -<p>Fiercely, convulsively, desperately, the comrades -who were unhurt fought at their loopholes. -Reinforcements came from the rear -in haste, and took their places. Their eyes -were those of madmen, their breath was panting.</p> - -<p>“The assault will be here in a minute, boys,” -I said to my nearest neighbors. “Look out -for yourselves. Have your cartridges ready. -You, there, lift your gun higher, or you will -fire badly! And you, aim toward that corner -you see over there!”</p> - -<p>Berthet helped me, with a tragic manner -of responsibility; the underofficers ran from -one man to another crying: “Keep cool! We -will get them! Just let them come on!”</p> - -<p>Then the action rushed on even more furiously, -more demoniac. In the midst of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> -increased cannonade the gun-fire rattled. It -commenced at the left, gained the centre, -reached the right. The whole line crackled -like the beginning of a roll of thunder. We -could no longer see ahead of us. We fired as -fast as possible, without knowing where, cutting -into space.</p> - -<p>“Here they are! Keep cool!”</p> - -<p>In the dim light a gray mass was oscillating. -As it rapidly advanced, we could distinguish -small objects on the plain, like moving blades -of grass. We fired: cries could be heard. We -fired more rapidly. The gas was dissipating, -but the night was becoming thick. Our only -light was the blazing city of Rheims and the -glow of shells. The pandemonium increased. -One could distinguish only his immediate neighbor, -lifting his gun, firing, recoiling from the -discharge, replacing the spent cartridge with -a full one. The pungent taste of burnt powder -penetrated the throat. We sweat. We no -longer feared. We pulled the trigger; we were -fighting, we were defending the soil, the trench, -the sector, in a blind rage. <i>They should not -take it!</i> They should give up; they should -fall back. We would kill them all rather than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -permit their feet to contaminate the spot we -were guarding.</p> - -<p>This endured for more than an hour, this -insane uproar of shrieking voices, crashing -cannon, cracking rifles; while Rheims, in flames -threw to the wind her streamers of light.</p> - -<p>We had no accurate idea of the battle as a -whole. Each man acted for himself, for the -little corner of ground in range of his rifle, for -the piece of trench which he was holding. -At one side, the Boches jumped into the trench, -cut the throats of the nearest men, then fell, -themselves stabbed by bayonets. At another -point they penetrated the barbed-wire entanglements, -remained caught there, struggling -to free themselves, and were cut to pieces by -our fire. Farther on, our shells crushed them. -We were scarcely conscious of it. We elbowed -our neighbors, we exchanged encouragement, -we shrieked when we would speak. We were -so intense, so full of fury, that many were frothing -when commanded to desist. The underofficers -exhausted themselves in crying halt, -and had to shake each man to awaken him, -to bring him to himself, to make him understand. -We felt exasperated.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>However, the cannonade was decreasing in -violence. The gun-fire ceased, reviving only -at intervals. The stretcher-bearers ran up, -took away the wounded, picked up the tortured -gas victims, whose lungs creaked like -the bellows of a forge. The battle was over. -The Boches were repulsed. In spite of their -gas, in spite of the surprise, in spite of their -cannon, they left on the field before us almost -a battalion: sprawling corpses, dismembered -like broken puppets; dead men who gaped at -the stars; wounded who soon were dead. -Our losses were considerable, theirs were much -greater. Twenty of their number remained -with us as prisoners. Haggard and stunned, -they were led to the rear for the interrogatory.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Well, how has it been?” I asked Berthet, -as I gripped his hand. “It was superb!” he -responded. There was a hole in his coat. “Not -touched?” “No, a ball just missed taking -me off.” He said it with a calm which I admired. -He concealed from me the fact that -he had breathed the abominable vapors.</p> - -<p>After all, it was only a local action on our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -line. It was not, in the generally accepted -sense, a battle. All of us have seen much greater -since then. However, on account of the gas, -this first engagement is vividly present in our -memory, a recollection never to be effaced. -It was an encounter so strange! That foul -vapor which enveloped the earth, which ate -its way into the fibre of the clothing we wore, -corroded and withered the leaves on the trees, -and changed the aspect of God’s sane creation -into a distorted image of hell, will remain forever -one of the deepest infamies of the Germans. -After contact with this poisoned cloud, -nothing retained its original appearance. The -arms were red without being rusty, the color -of uniforms was changed. There were very -few of our men suffering from gun or bayonet -wounds, but whole mounds of those who died -in convulsions: poor, twisted dead, who -agonized in dying; so disfigured their own -mothers could not have recognized them. Some -of them were wringing their hands, others -were swallowing stones, others seemed to be -rammed into the earth like stakes. This was -not war; it was worse. This was not the rain -of bullets which pierce the flesh, or break a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -skull in passing. This was not the brutal shell, -which bursts to fragments, scatters in a thousand -directions and mows down a group of -men as gayly as a child knocks down a house -of cards. This was another matter. It was -the very air turned accomplice of the enemy; -blinded eyes, frothing mouth, rotted lungs, -a breast on fire; every effort exerted redoubling -the torture; the rescuer struck down above -the man he attempted to save; the officer suffering -like his men; the telephone-operator -seized in his shelter, the courier arrested in -his course, all alike smothered and struggling -with death. This was a breath from the depths -of hell, this diabolic invention, which that -monster, the German Junker, forced men to -choose: weapon of meanness and treachery, -which sets at naught the valor of both defender -and assailant!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VII<br /> - - -<small>RHEIMS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">WHEN the life fantastic becomes the -life ordinary, when one is at the -centre of prodigious events which -unroll more rapidly than the picture on the -screen, and appear in ever-new guise, the astonishing -thing becomes a natural thing; the -unheard-of becomes the expected. A distortion -of sensation is produced; the brain registers -only that which surpasses the climax of what -has already been experienced; as on mountain -heights, peaks which have been surmounted -appear low, and the climber feels that only -those are high which are still above him.</p> - -<p>Thus it became the ordinary thing for Berthet -and me, as for our companions, to live in the -extraordinary and the supernatural. We felt -quite at home in it, and moved at our ease in -a situation which, for him at least, would have -been untenable a few short months before. -We had become soldiers like the others, eating, -when we could, a meagre and coarse ration;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -sleeping when it was possible; in constant -danger of death, but avoiding it apparently -by instinct. We lived with no more care than -the beasts of the field; with beards long, hands -dirty. We dug in the earth, as did all the rest; -we watched at the parapets with eyes puffed -from lack of sleep. Uncouthness grew upon -us, and we appeared, at dawn, in the glacial -cold, muffled up in pieces of cloth and skins of -animals; hairy, hideous, and fearsome.</p> - -<p>We were on patrol duty one night. Creeping -about, we passed the listening-post and -advanced on No Man’s Land. Like savages, -we stalked the enemy for hours, trying to surprise -some unknown men: soldiers like ourselves, -who might be lost between the lines; -men anxious like ourselves, and like ourselves -afraid of death and suffering. Then we returned, -annoyed to come back without having -bagged a foe; regretful that we had not been -able to spill some man’s blood. However——</p> - -<p>“However”—thus we reasoned.</p> - -<p>Often, in the evening, when we were free -between periods of sentry duty, we would -delay our share of heavy sleep wherein one -forgot all; when one lay stretched like a beast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -in a stable, on a little straw in the depth of a -retreat, poorly protected from the wind and -the shells. We would walk the hundred paces -of the length of the communication-trench, -conversing.</p> - -<p>The night enveloped us; the night palpitating -with the noise of battle. We could hear -the crack of rifles and the roar of cannon. Sometimes -the flying steel whirled over our heads -with its weird whistle. Some corvées passed, -heavily loaded, carrying materials for attack -and defense. Habituated as we were to the -sight and sound, oblivious to the familiar racket, -we walked quite tranquilly, in spirit far removed -from our surroundings, expanding our -thoughts and confiding our dreams. All sorts -of subjects shared our attention: art, history, -literature, politics, we touched upon them all, -commented upon all as if we had been a hundred -leagues away from the war, as if no other -occupation had the least claim upon us. The -contrast was so vivid, the difference so striking, -that sometimes we stopped and exclaimed in -amazement at ourselves.</p> - -<p>By this time we had no childish vanity in -the matter. Our sense of pride was rather<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -above it. We called no one’s attention to our -calm indifference. No! It was night, we were -lost in the shadows, no one could see us. We -were simply relaxing our brains in withdrawing -our thought from the present; in leading it, -by means of conversation, toward the past -and the future.</p> - -<p>One particular desire which we held in -common was frequently mentioned: we wished -to visit Rheims, which was quite near. Our -regiment formed a part of the troops of coverture -of the city. However, we could not enter -the town without permission, and this could -not be obtained without good reason. We -finally found an excuse, and the rest was easy.</p> - -<p>One morning, armed with our permit, we -set out. The expedition was not without danger. -For several months, since we had occupied -the trenches at the north of the city, we had -known that the Boches were obstinately bent -upon its destruction. Every day brought its -rain of shells. We could see the flames shoot -up, we could see writhing columns of smoke -mount to the heavens. No matter; the visit -tempted us, and the most violent storm of -iron and fire would not have deterred us.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>So we went. We prepared our minds, as -we thought, for every possible surprise; we -were not prepared for what we were destined -to find. Approaching by the Faubourg Cires, -we entered a ruin. We saw nothing but demolished -houses, entire streets swept by machine -fire, gnawed by flames, blackened by -smoke. Tottering façades, holding their -equilibrium by a miracle, supported the skeletons -of apartment-buildings, in whose walls -blackened shell-holes seemed like dead eyes -opened on a void. Heaps of plaster and stone -fallen from the walls rendered passage difficult -and impeded our progress. Occasionally, an -entire section of wall would swing slowly, balance -for an instant, then fall in a cloud of dust. -It was a house in its death-throes.</p> - -<p>After passing this scene of desolation, we -entered a quarter still intact, where, to our -stupefaction, the city came to life again. There -only a few injuries to buildings were visible. -Here and there a shell had wounded a structure. -The general appearance of everything -was quite peaceful. The inhabitants followed -the usual routine of life with apparent serenity. -Open shops offered their merchandise. Young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -girls came and went smiling. A pastry-cook -spread out his tarts and nougats; a stationer -displayed his pencils and office supplies; a -haberdasher’s window was filled with collars -and cravats. Nothing indicated war. People -went up and down about their business; old -women gossiped on their door-step, and peddlers -cried their wares.</p> - -<p>Around the Place Royale, which was absolutely -in ruins, cabmen awaited a fare, stroking -the manes of their bony horses, or discussing -the price received for the last trip. -In the public gardens mothers watched their -little ones at play, caressing them or scolding -them, as if their entire life were assured, as -if no thought of anything unusual entered -their brain.</p> - -<p>Was it bravery, indifference, habit? Who -knows? We were dumbfounded. What! In -a city crushed by shells, tortured by fire, subjected -to the most barbarous treatment, how -was it possible to be so matter-of-fact? Could -the life of the populace continue in its usual -channels, indifferent to danger, removed from -fear, calm as in time of peace?</p> - -<p>We must look closer to perceive under the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -surface the explanation of the anomaly; everywhere, -people seated or standing observed a -patient discipline in using only one side of -the street: the one exposed to the direct shock -of the shells. Only a city long exposed to -bombardment could conceive such a mechanical -precaution. It is a protection, because the -shell, in falling, bursts; its splinters fly in the -opposite direction to that taken by the projectile.</p> - -<p>We soon saw the working out of the principle. -Attracted by an open shop, we made some -purchases at our leisure. A sinister shriek -crossed the sky, and a racket followed. “They -are bombarding,” calmly remarked the young -woman who served us. She listened. “It is -at the cathedral.” Then she continued, most -unconcernedly: “Let us see! Some braid? It -is at the other counter. You get the buttons -here, and the wool and the thread. Is that all -you wish? That makes a franc sixty.”</p> - -<p>Another roar, this time nearer. The street -was immediately deserted. So quickly that a -stranger could not observe the action, every -passer-by disappeared. Every one went underground, -somewhere, into an open cellar. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -happened as naturally and quickly as in ordinary -times when people find shelter from -a sudden shower. They knew that the hour -to seek cover had arrived. The shower of -steel would last until evening, and would not -cease until a new quarter was obliterated. It -was the turn of one <i>faubourg</i>, therefore the -others would escape this time. Consequently, -outside the zone attacked, existence might -continue as usual.</p> - -<p>Already the rescue squads were running in -the direction of the falling shells, as resolute -and well disciplined as when at drill. Duty -called them. They responded, “Present,” without -fear or hesitation: down there people -were dying under the ruins of their homes. -The stretcher-bearers rescued the injured in -the midst of the tumult. If they had been -praised for their heroism, they would have -resented the praise as an insult.</p> - -<p>When recovered from our first astonishment, -Berthet and I set out. This martyred city, -so tragic and so calm, seemed to us superhuman. -We found it beautiful. We felt a desire to -weep, to cry out, as we looked at its reddened -walls, its yawning windows and wrecked roofs.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> -We went about gently, as one walks in a place -of suffering and sorrow. In our rather aimless -wandering, reverent as in a sacred place, we -came suddenly in front of the cathedral.</p> - -<p>It rose before us like a queen, at the turn of -the street. The lofty façade, stained by fire -in shades of gold and blood, lifted its proud -head to the sky. The towers were like two -arms stretched imploringly toward heaven: -one reddened by fire, the other clothed by the -centuries in the blue veil which shrouds ancient -monuments. Between them the shattered -rose-window seemed to moan distractedly: a -silent sob. That dumb mouth in that fire-reddened -face seemed to cry with such hatred, -with such anguish, that we stopped, gripped -by the sight.</p> - -<p>It was there that the great Crime had written -its name! There, where France had inscribed -the most sacred things of her history; there, -by the cradle of the nation, on the book always -open, the assassin had left his thumb-print; -his infamy remained inscribed in each gaping -wound, on each fallen statue. The high towers -attested to heaven the execrable violence. The -roof was gone, like the scalp which the savage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -tears from the head of his victim. The eyes of -God could search to the flagstones and judge -with one glance the foul deed.</p> - -<p>Outside the church the <i>Place</i> was gloomy, -but sublime. By an effect of fatality, it had -become the dwelling-place of the holy relics -driven from the interior. The tabernacle was -no longer in the heart of the cathedral, but -scattered in fragments around it: the choir -encircled the church. Fragments of stained-glass -replaced the organ-pipes, and the wind -moaned through the leaden groins, and chanted -the dirge of the sacred spot.</p> - -<p>Cathedral! Church thrice holy! The murderer -tried to destroy thee: he has given thee -eternal life. He tried to gag and choke thee: -but the voice from thy tortured throat resounds -higher and clearer throughout the world. -In his stupidity he believed he could annihilate -thee: instead, he has glorified thee. Cathedral! -A song in stone, a hymn—hymn too -ethereal for the human ear to catch; a poem -of beauty and light, which the sodden Boche -thought to efface, but which stands resplendent, -a witness of his shame, before humanity and -eternal righteousness. Divine, immortal cathedral!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -Men have never created a human prayer -more sublime than art thou, bombarded. The -German shell believed it had power to destroy -thee. It has crushed thine arches and broken -thy wings. Thou hadst no need of wings to -soar. As a spirit of light thou hast floated -above the city; now thou rulest over the city -the war, and France; as a symbol, thou art -resplendent over all the world. Rheims, thou -wert the shrine of France; broken, thou art -become her emblem. Thou art no longer ours -alone. Thy majesty rises unshaken, triumphant, -a divine intelligence facing savage cruelty; -a barrier touched, but not destroyed, -defying bestiality.</p> - -<p>We had no words to express our emotions. -We walked about, in silent exaltation. From -its purple shroud, still smoking, the enormous -basilique spoke to us. Great scenes in history -were enacted in its sacred precincts: all the -sacred kings, the noble sons of France; Clovis -baptized by St. Remy; Charles VII led by -Jeanne d’Arc, whose bronze image still defies -the enemy from the porch of the church; -Charles X, last king anointed in this august -place—all, all were there as restless phantoms;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -powerful, saintly, silent, looking on. We were -satiated with emotion, bewildered by a hundred -beauties: the light through the broken -arches, the fragments of art treasures in the -dust at our feet, the scintillating glass on the -flagstones. We went away, fairly giddy with -its impassioned grandeur.</p> - -<p>The increased cannonade directed our course. -It was impossible to remain longer. We crossed -the forsaken park and made a détour around -the deserted station. Behind us lay a city of -silence, but her martyrdom continued incessantly. -Shrill whirrings made the air quiver. -Shells growled above the roofs, leaped the -streets, crossed the squares, threatened, fell -and exploded. There was a sudden crash of -collapsing floors and of tumbling masonry. -A quarter, somewhere in the city, was being -pounded to dust and débris; an entire quarter -was being hammered out of existence. Clouds -of plaster filled the air; great stones crumbled.</p> - -<p>Families were unable to escape. Their homes, -which should have sheltered them, were thrown -wide open to the brutal dangers of the street. -The invalid’s bed tottered in the ruins, the -baby was thrown from its cradle. The old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -man died at the side of the youth, the wife -in the arms of her husband, the child at its -mother’s breast. The criminal extermination, -determined upon and planned, was completing -its frightful work, was blotting out a city, was -beating to death a country. The Boche, squatting -on the commanding heights, aimed his -guns with ease, made sure of his fire and picked -out his prey. He struck practically without -risk to himself, sure to hit a target in the chaos -of roofs, to demolish and to destroy. A town—what -an immense quarry! The shell may -fall where it will: it is sure to kill. The explosion -will burst in some window, will cross -some bedchamber, will find some victim. A -town is a quarry more easily sighted than a -battery. It is huge, it is immovable, it cannot -reply. One can destroy it without danger to -oneself.</p> - -<p>Therefore the shells fell unerringly; only -the flames and smoke made reply....</p> - -<p>We paid it no further attention.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>My poor Berthet, charming companion, and -sharer of so many unforgettable experiences, -was unable to follow the regiment through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -all its struggles. One day, while in the Rheims -sector, he suffered severely in a gas attack -and the physicians ordered him to the rear -for treatment in one of the resting-camps. -Gradually the soft air of France healed his -tortured lungs and started him on the path -of recovery. The German poison had, however, -severely shaken his constitution and the -cure was slow. He was unable to rejoin us -for the tragic trials at Verdun.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VIII<br /> - - -<small>DISTRACTIONS</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">EXISTENCE in the trenches is characterized -by a monotony that soon -becomes a burden. It is made up of -waiting and work: work in which a man is -by turns dirt-digger, sentinel, carpenter, and -porter. There is much time for rest and repose. -It is a special type of life, which recalls -that of the sieges of olden days, when armies -sat long months at a time facing each other. -One does not fight all the time. The vigil is -constant, but the struggle is not. There is -the incessant watching of the field in front, -the unrelaxed tension of stalking the enemy; -and at the rear the staleness of inaction.</p> - -<p>What is there to do? Sleep, certainly. Then -find amusement, for the time is long. The -hours move slowly, night follows day and day -night without bringing change. Therefore, -one must exercise his ingenuity.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>One writes a lot of letters. There is always -a relative to enlighten, or a sweetheart to console, -or a mother to entertain. Letters arrive -which are read and reread. Then the newspapers -bring their limited ration of news. We -discuss their contents. We learn that the -submarine warfare is extending; that the -Zeppelins have gone over England; that the -Bulgars are attacking the Roumanians; that -a great parliamentary speech has explained -to the world the causes of the upheaval. Thus -we kill a few more minutes. Then ennui returns: -dull tediousness that puts the thumbscrews -on the brain; homesickness for the -distant fireside, for the old life renounced for -war; yearning for the past, still near and yet -so far. One wanders about and knows not -what to do. One fellow has some playing-cards -and opens a game. We smoke, and dream, -and sew, and clean our arms. We await our -turn at sentry duty. It rains. We yawn. -The sun comes out, one risks his life to pay a -visit to his neighbors. The picturesque ceases -to be, by reason of familiarity. One sees nothing -of that which at first fixed his attention. The -deep trench where crazy grasses hang is a road<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> -only too well trodden. The mess is stale, the -card-game stupid. One is bored to death and -utterly worthless.</p> - -<p>Then the inveterate wag intervenes. He -sings, he “joshes.” He brings a laugh. The -dying conversation revives. Those who were -dozing sit up again and take notice. Circles -form. Each one tells a story, and the long -faces spread into smiles. Torpor is banished -for a moment. The man who was cutting a -cane with his pocket-knife exhibits it. It is -fine and much admired. The man who hollowed -out an inkstand from a fuse brings it -forth. His work is curious, dainty, and ornamental: -bravo! A painter is there, an artist, -who brings out his album; he has a hundred -drawings, warm with color. Each man would -like to possess a copy. That is the end: there -is nothing more. All this is too brief, and the -time is too long. We cast about for something -new.</p> - -<p>In a hut some one installs a museum. It -is a collection of souvenirs of the field of battle. -The gathered trophies hang on the walls. A -Boche helmet is near a freakishly twisted -splinter. A German trooper’s sword-belt hangs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> -near a saw-bayonet. There are cartridge-boxes, -fragments of guns, the button of a tassel -from the sabre of a buried German officer. -Every one is interested in the work and brings -his contribution to enrich the collection. It -does not belong to any one in particular, but -is owned jointly. It is the pride of the sector -and the joy of the regiment. It receives the -<i>casse-tête</i> picked up after the last hand-to-hand -scrimmage with the Boches; a reservoir of -liquid fire, whose bearer lies somewhere near -the trench that he sought to enter; some fragments -of grenades—anything which one might -pick up on a kilometre of ground furrowed -by projectiles, dug up by shells, or ploughed -by cannon-balls. Curious conglomeration! -Glorious scraps of iron! Mute witnesses of -the fury of men, implements of their ferocity!</p> - -<p>At another spot some man who loves the -cultivation of the land cares for a wee patch -of garden. A garden, yes, that is what I said. -In the midst of the trenches. He has planted -some pansies, a sprig of stock, and three clumps -of pinks. He waters them every morning, and -watches them carefully. Woe to any careless -foot that might crush them! These flowers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -in the sombre surroundings, breathe perfume -and poetry.</p> - -<p>At another spot a fight between a dog and -a rat is pulled off. A lieutenant sets a fox-terrier -on a promising hole of the rodents. -A group of men look on eagerly. One, armed -with a pick, enlarges the opening. Another -removes a stone which was in the way. The -dog, trembling with excitement, sniffs, paws, -digs, buries his nose in the earth, scratches, -reaches the animal at the bottom of his retreat—seizes -him! Good dog! He shakes -the rat furiously, breaking his back. The -victor is applauded and petted.</p> - -<p>Simple distractions, these! I will pass them -by quickly. There is the man who makes -chains of welded wire; the one whose hobby -is photography. One mysterious fellow amuses -himself with cookery. There are some secret -pursuits, like that of the inveterate hunters, -who place game-traps at twilight and at dawn -endanger their lives to go out to empty them. -There are fishermen who drop lines in the canal. -A hundred avocations are followed on the edge -of the war, side by side with the service, in -range of the cannon and punctuated by shells.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>I had my occupation, as well as the others, -you may be sure. I published a newspaper: -a great affair. A newspaper, in the trenches—that -savors at once of a trade and of an adventure. -Title: <i>The War Cry</i>, appearing once -a month. Every month, then, I had a problem: -to get paper. An obliging cyclist had to bring -it from the village on the day fixed. He left -it at the foot of a sapling, no matter what the -uproar overhead; no matter how large the -edition of shrapnel messages from the Germans. -Oh, honest pulp, intended for a simple life, -into what scenes of adventure art thou thrust!</p> - -<p>In one trench the print-shop was twenty -feet underground. It was illuminated by three -night-lamps, set in a triangle. At another -place the shop was on a level with the surface -of the ground, and the bombardment scattered -sand and pebbles over the proof. At another -time it was installed in a bedroom of a ruined -house. As there was no roof to catch the rain, -it fell in large tears on the printer and the printing. -No matter! The number was issued, -illustrated. It was eagerly sought, and the -copies circulated briskly, carrying gratuitous -joy, smoothing knit brows, bringing a laugh,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> -and, finally, carrying to the rear the gayety -of the front.</p> - -<p>When I look back upon these labors, they -seem to me childish. In their place, they were -amazing. The Great Tragedy held us constantly -in its clutch. The man who was polishing -a ring for his fiancée did not finish it: that -very evening a ball or a piece of shell shattered -the work and destroyed the worker. The man -who was carving a walking-stick was a mutilated -wreck before his work was finished. The danger -was incessant. In these occupations we sought -distraction from the thought of it all, but one -could never ward off that which fate held in -store for him. It was an intermission snatched -from ennui; a truce; and when one was doing -fairly well, thinking no more of physical discomfort -and mental anguish, suddenly the -cannon barked, the alarm was sounded, and -the dance of hell was on again!</p> - -<p>“Outside: trench thirteen!”</p> - -<p>Then we ran. We left the rings and walking-sticks -and the newspaper. <i>The War Cry</i>—It -was the real war cry now. The Boche -had come upon us by stealth. It might be -night or day, morning or evening. He slid,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -he crept, he crouched, he jumped into our -trench. We must hack him to pieces with -grenades. Then we must put up again a fallen -splinter-shield, reconstruct an observation-post, -open again a filled-up trench. The shells -came like gusts of wind, the shrapnel flew, -smoked, and stunk.</p> - -<p>Or, at another time, it was our turn to leap -out, run to the assault, take a trench, hold it, -and guard it.</p> - -<p>It was necessary, from time to time, to go to -the rear that we might enjoy some real security -and relaxation.</p> - -<p>The relief! Who will ever adequately sing -its praise? It came at night, ordinarily. Two -or three days before the event the sector saw -strangers arrive for a visit, officers and sergeants, -who looked around and took instructions. -This is the way they were shown -about:</p> - -<p>“Look out at this point. This part of the -trench seems to be in easy range of the -guns.”</p> - -<p>“This is a bad corner. Torpedoes hit it -every morning. Go by quickly over there, for -you can be seen.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>“Every man who passes this spot is saluted -by a bullet. We have some wounded every -evening.”</p> - -<p>They took notes, made observations and inquiries. -We looked upon their activities with -satisfaction. They were the forerunners of -comrades who were about to come, in their -turn, to enjoy a period in the open country—underground. -They never came too soon. -Already we were making up our packets, putting -our affairs in order, buckling our knapsacks, -filling our side-bags.</p> - -<p>We departed fewer than we came. We left -some chums in the earth, under humble mounds -marked with a cross. There was one man surprised -when on patrol—he was carried back -dying in the arms of his companions. Another, -disembowelled by a grenade, fell at his -post without a cry. We had known these men, -we had loved them. One was gay, one was -grave. All were loyal comrades whom we -would never see again. When killed they had -remained all day lying at their posts. A cloth -was thrown over them, concealing the face and -partly covering the body. In the evening when -the shadows fell, we put them in their graves.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>It was very simple. If possible, the section -surrounded the grave, a rough excavation hollowed -in the dirt thrown up from the trenches. -Sometimes, not always, some one murmured a -prayer. The body was lowered, and the dead -went his way saluted as a hero by the cannon. -That was all. It was sad and impressive, simple -as an unpremeditated gesture. Some one -put a bunch of field-flowers on the fresh mound. -The soldier’s cap was placed on the wooden -cross. Then into a bottle was slipped the name -of the departed—dead that France might live, -fallen at his post of honor. Immediately we -returned to our places, to watch and to fight. -To-day it was he. To-morrow it would be -one’s self.</p> - -<p>The relief came by following the communication-trenches. -Curious concerning their new -post, the fresh arrivals asked many questions:</p> - -<p>“Pretty nifty here, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Where are the kitchens?”</p> - -<p>We informed them as rapidly as possible. -We wished that they would arrive more quickly. -It seemed as if we would perish in waiting for -them, and that the danger increased by their -coming. They made a lot of noise. They went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> -back and forth, they talked. Surely the Boche -would hear them and let loose his cannon.</p> - -<p>In fact, that is what often occurred. Then -the brutal shells added to the disorder. Ignorant -of the shelters, lost in the thick darkness, -the new arrivals flattened themselves out where -they could. Their non-commissioned officers -reassembled them and led them on in jostled -disorder. It seemed that the confusion would -never end, that we would have to stay there, -all mixed together like tangled thread from an -unwound spool. It seemed that the deadly -hammering would annihilate us all, down in the -earth. Then the officers brought order from -chaos. The first line took their places. At the -posts of listening the new men replaced the old.</p> - -<p>“Notice that recess: that is where the Boches -send their love-tokens.”</p> - -<p>“Do you see that black pile over yonder? -Behind it is a German machine-gun.”</p> - -<p>Down in the shelters the new men were -making themselves at home, the departing men -were gathering up their belongings.</p> - -<p>“Good luck to you!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry about that!”</p> - -<p>Then we set out. We reached the line of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -supply, and crossed a clearing filled with artillery. -We could breathe more easily. We were -going away, toward repose. At last, in the -darkness, we found the road. Conversation -began, pipes were lighted. We were getting -farther away from the tunnels, from the depths -of the earth, and from death. Though still -menaced by shells, we felt liberated. We came -to a demolished village occupied by moving -shadows: men who remained at the rear, in the -accessory service of food supply and munitions. -Lanterns bobbed here and there. Some horses -hitched by the road switched their tails in -friendly salute. We went on. We met an -ammunition-train going at full speed in a terrible -racket of wheels and oaths. Still we -marched. We descended a slope. Over yonder -lay the Promised Land, spared by the gods -of war: where the crops were growing; where -the houses had roofs, the villages had inhabitants, -the barns had straw; where there was -wine to drink, girls to look at, and merchandise -to buy. It was all there. We knew it. The -recollections of our former visit came to mind. -One hoped to find the cantonment running on -as in the last sojourn; la mère Laprot, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -knew so well how to cook an omelet, and big -Berthe, whose teeth were so white when she -smiled.</p> - -<p>One gave an energetic hunch to the knapsack. -One recognized every tree, every turn of the -road. We were getting nearer. One more -pause and we would be there. We must still -climb a bluff, steep as a ladder, leading to the -plateau. We climbed—for everything can be -overcome.</p> - -<p>At last we arrived. The village awaited us -with open arms. We entered, and were at -home.</p> - -<p>The shed was hospitable as ever. We felt -of the straw, and laid aside our accoutrement. -The arms and leather trappings made a little -pile at the head of each man’s place. Blankets -came out of the knapsacks. How delicious to -stretch at full length on the straw! A few moments -more and a hundred sonorous snores, -deep and diversified, blended their antiphones -under the worm-eaten roof.</p> - -<p>Life entered the village with the troops. -From early morning the streets swarmed. -Wagons lined up under the trees and unpacked -their loads. Horses chewed their hay while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -switching their tails contentedly, or enjoyed -long drinks at the trough. The blacksmith -hammered the glowing horseshoes in the midst -of a smoky haze. The buffets were full. The -cold-meat shop was invaded. The grocer was -besieged until he emptied his boxes. It was a -rush, a battle, an assault.</p> - -<p>“Some sausage!”</p> - -<p>“Some thread!”</p> - -<p>“Some soap!”</p> - -<p>“How much for this cheese?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take that box!”</p> - -<p>The coins jingled. Happy laughter responded -to happy smiles. Wine flowed. At the river -laundry the surface of the stream was billowy -white with the suds from well-washed clothing. -With a drum for a chair, the barber was busy -with his razor. At another place shower-baths -completed the work of renovation. New -faces emerged, fresh-skinned and wide-eyed. -The exuberant joy of youth burst forth into -gay cries and bodily freedom. Visits were -exchanged. The smoking kitchens were sending -out delicious odors. The non-coms were -kept busy hunting for their men who had disappeared, -flown away.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>By noon, however, the troop was again in -order. In the square the soldiers were in line, -with arms polished and garments clean. The -roll was called. Their appearance was noted, -their losses of equipment were made good. -The report was read. We learned that such -an one was cited for bravery, that the general -was pleased, that we would remain eight days -without molestation.</p> - -<p>Then the gayety increased. We organized -to make the most of our vacation. Some men -with a bright idea arranged a theatre and prepared -a concert. Two sawhorses supported -the stage, which we trimmed with leaves. We -draped the flag of the <i>mairie</i> overhead. The -programme was quickly arranged, as we had -a considerable talent in the regiment.</p> - -<p>On the day appointed for the performance -chairs were placed for the higher officers, the -chief of the battalion, and the captains. The -privates noisily disposed of themselves as chance -permitted. There were spectators roosting on -the wheels of carts, others perched on straw-stacks; -wherever a body could hold its equilibrium, -there was a body. An improvised orchestra -opened the entertainment. Then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> -several singers followed with comic songs. -The applause was tumultuous, as high spirits -mounted higher. We forgot the war, at that -moment, and its suffering and privation. A -ballad touched our deeper sentiment. A monologue -was punctuated with laughter. The -hilarious faces of the spectators told of their -pleasure—the joy of living, with youth and -health. We relaxed our tense nerves, and became -human beings again. There were no -more shells, no more mud, no more guard duty, -no more fatigue. The tragedy had paused; -and, if one had not heard the growling rage -of the cannon bent upon its work of death and -destruction, one would have believed that -there could be no more pleasant existence.</p> - -<p>On other days there were games in the open -air. Like children freed from school the men -ran in the meadows, tussled in a game of -prisoner’s base, or played leap-frog. The suppleness -of body, the litheness of movement, -were such as to inspire admiration. These -were no longer soldiers, but graceful athletes, -with agile muscles and solid torso. Under the -trees gently waving in the breeze, with the -clear sky of France above a charming countryside,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -the scene evoked the picture of the athletic -games of antiquity. Not even the group of -philosophers was lacking, walking up and down -and arguing.</p> - -<p>Thus the hours ran on, peaceful and all too -short. The troop took a fresh breath, renewed -its spirit, calmed excited nerves, found new -courage and a magnificent enthusiasm. The -cruel remembrance of dark hours, of horrible -spectacles, of losses, became dim. We found -again a vibrant love of life. The soul-sickness -which had grown upon us at the parapets, -under the shells, melted away in the new environment, -in the joy of a recreation dearly -won.</p> - -<p>The week of vacation was completed. They -were new men, refreshed and invigorated, who -fell into line when the hour arrived. In the -darkness we retraced the road by which we -had come. We were returning to the battle, -we were re-entering the tunnels, the dugouts, -the redans, the trenches, the parallels. Now -we were the relief, in our turn. We took our -place. We brought back with us arms, food, -replenished cartridge-boxes, new men to fill -the vacancies in our ranks. More than that,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -we brought back valor, patience, faith, and a -spirit reborn.</p> - -<p>We entered again the domain of death, again -we began the agony.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">IX<br /> - - -<small>THE BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">A YEAR had passed. The Marne and -the Yser had gone into history. We -knew that enormous preparations were -in progress behind our lines. They are always -known. The symptoms are perfectly visible. -The artillery is massed, the various operations -are pushed more vigorously, new precautions -are taken.</p> - -<p>Vague rumors are afloat. Every one wishes -to appear informed, and the strangest forecasts, -the most absurd reports are passed from -mouth to mouth, originating no one knows -where.</p> - -<p>“We are going clear to the Rhine, this time!”</p> - -<p>“What! do you think? As far as the Meuse, -and already——”</p> - -<p>“The cavalry is massed at the rear; and if -the cavalry passes, the line is already smashed. -Then, <i>mon vieux</i>, how far do you think we’ll -go?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>The war was changing its aspect. Germany, -checked at the Marne, seemed to have an unsuspected -force. Her regiments were renewed -continuously. They seemed to spring from -the ground, an uncounted host, capable of -breaking over any barrier. Unprepared France, -in accepting the combat, profited by the period -of “digging in,” to cast big guns and manufacture -shells. A colossal effort galvanized her -hope. People repeated the famous words of -Joffre: “Je les grignote.”<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></p> - -<p>We were confident: Germany could not -win. She would be beaten as soon as we could -collect guns and ammunition in sufficient quantities. -Some words of the generals came down -to the ranks. Gallieni had said: “They are -in the trenches—they are lost!”</p> - -<p>We believed it, we were sure of it. The -humblest cook, in his smoky <i>abri</i>, spattered -with his sauces, his blackened face beaming -with smiles, had no more doubt of it than the -major-general in his automobile.</p> - -<p>Many furloughs had been granted. Each -man had been allowed to visit his family, and -had spread assurance of success in return for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -the festivities his friends had prepared for him. -No doubts found lodgment in the minds of -the people. On tenter-hooks the country -awaited victory. Trembling old mothers believed -it, tearful wives put faith in it, fathers -felt convinced of it. At last we would be -avenged, we would punish the enemy’s infamous -arrogance, we would chastise him, we -would crush him. We were going to crunch -him by an enormous pressure, overthrow his -system of trenches, advance, break his line; -and then, with one burst of valor, we would -hurl him back whence he came—into his deep -forests, as far as the Rhine; perhaps still farther, -to his lair. Every one knew the good news, -counted on it, awaited it with impatience.</p> - -<p>People liked the bearing of the soldiers. All -were delighted to see them so robust, so hardened; -more alert than at the beginning, more -viril, more manly. The warrior’s helmet graced -his forehead like an aureole. The men were -fêted and showered with tokens of affection. -Long trains brought them home—so ardent, -and young, and splendid; shouting their joy -in the stations, passing through towns with -the air of a victor. How the women admired<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> -them! They were treated (in advance) as -liberators. Those sober people who still were -apprehensive of the outcome, who reckoned -up the future and calculated the chances, were -looked upon with a reproachful eye. This -time it was certain: we would pass!</p> - -<p>The opening came the 20th of September. -A furious storm of artillery saluted the dawn, -and set the thunder rolling. It was a prodigious -simoon. The sky cracked with the terrible, -hot breath; the earth itself bubbled. A deluge -of red-hot iron fell. It was more than a noise: -it was a tempest, a gigantic roaring, the forge -of Vulcan in full action; an entire sector of -the front bursting into flame. What a fantastic -tornado! All calibers of shells shrieked together. -No single voice of cannon could be -distinguished in the concert. They were blended -in one roll, as if a god had sounded the charge -on a gigantic drum. The avalanche of steel -fell on the enemy’s breastworks, spattered over -the intervening space, let loose billows of smoke, -dust, and flames. The very earth seemed to -cry out to heaven, as it was pounded to powder -and scorched by the fire. Entire sections of -trench walls leaped into the air; a giant plough<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span> -turned over the tunnels. A heavy cloud formed, -grew thicker, rolled over the battle-field. The -passing hours augmented the uproar. No -sooner did the climax appear to be reached -than the tumult increased afresh.</p> - -<p>Massed near the field of carnage, the bivouacked -troops were in readiness. Each company -had its rôle, and each was ready. Each -knew at what hour to join the dance. They -were going to pierce through, they would pass! -Comrades exchanged encouragement and last -promises. All hoped to survive, and pursue -the routed foe in a sweeping victory.</p> - -<p>Our regiment, like others, awaited the call. -It had no active part in the festivity, but was -present. This was for us a poignant grief. In -our sector, not a sound. The cannon were as -silent as if every living thing had become a -mere spectator of the drama. As the roaring -increased in volume from minute to minute, -we listened. We divined the scene. We could -follow it in the clouds, and in the sounds carried -by the breeze. We were like curious, listening -neighbors who hear the people next door quarrel -and fight. The Germans opposite us remained -silent also, and listened, like ourselves.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>Battle of Champagne! It had not yet a -name. It held all the hope of France, a single, -united, colossal <span class="smcap">Will</span>. For five days France -could only listen to the panting of an army in -travail, and held her breath.</p> - -<p>The 25th of September, at 9.15 in the morning, -the first line left the trenches; bounded -forward, hurled themselves on the enemy. -Another line followed, and another, and another. -Less than an hour later, everywhere, -even well back at the rear, messages of victory -came. The telephone passed on the joyful -news, distributed it to the end of its lines. In -our ranks, where we awaited our turn with -arms at rest, we breathed with high-swelling -hope. We defied the enemy, that day. We -looked at his lines, marked his location. To-morrow, -perhaps, we would be where he was -to-day. We would command his crushed-in -shelter, his hiding-places opened by the shells; -we would be the victors, and he would be driven -before us. Oh, yes, we were quite sure. Already, -with pricked-up ears, we could perceive -the advance. Our cannon pierced his lines. -It roared elsewhere than was usual; already, -opposite us, the German had turned.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>And yet—no! The accursed race has the -tricks of a cowardly beast. To the chivalrous -courage which offers itself for an open test of -prowess, the Boche opposes stealthy ambush, -burrowing in the ground. For the noble <i>élan</i> -of our men, for their impetuous passion, for -their valor, the Teutonic sneak sets a snare: -close to the ground, about a foot high or less, -a fine copper-wire was concealed in the grass, -and electrified. Our heroes were ensnared in -that web. In vain their assaults were renewed. -In vain they accomplished a hundred exploits. -Close to the earth the traitorous wire caught -their ankles, sent the electric shock through -their legs, threw them down and burned them.</p> - -<p>But we—we were still ignorant of all this, -and we awaited our turn. In the falling night -we saw the neighboring sky light up. The -enemy’s fear was read in the number of his -rockets. He was afraid of our sortie, of our -onslaught and the outcome.</p> - -<p>Ah! Those hours! Those days, those four -days of superhuman effort! In what a fever -we passed them! At any moment we could -become participants, and yet we remained -there, inert, champing our bits. We talked,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -that we might shake off our impatience; that -we might hear words, though their import -went unnoticed. We talked without knowing -what we said, merely to hear ourselves say -something. We waited for our cue: nothing -came! Near us our comrades were fighting -in a veritable furnace; they were living the -apotheosis of supreme minutes, living the glory -of combat, amidst an uproar of shells: in suffering -of the flesh and in the beauty of sublime -Adventure. We envied them. We mounted -to the extreme edge of the embankments, to -the parapets of the trenches, that we might -see farther and follow more closely the movement -of the drama; that we might breathe -the odor of battle and grasp its splendor. We -looked at the fire-reddened sky, where a hundred -lightnings flashed and a hundred thunders -rolled. We desired, with all our souls, to enter -the strife, and at last force back the intrenched -enemy—intrenched in our land, in our soil.</p> - -<p>Since then many a battle has been fought. -We have had Verdun, we have had the Somme, -we have had the Aisne, we have had almost -each day a unique page of history. Most certainly; -but it was at this time that we learned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -our lesson. We learned that patience is the -weapon <i>par excellence</i> in a war such as this; -whereas, at that time we still conserved intact -the old faith in French ardor. It was the first -shock following the Marne, after the defense -of the Yser. It was the first hope of breaking -through. We were near it, so near we could -almost touch it, but we did not attain it. We -were ready for death itself, but the sacrifice -was unavailing. The sacks loaded for the -forward march, the filled cartridge-cases, -weighed heavily and more heavily when we -knew that the line remained where it had been, -that the breach was not sufficient, that an -insignificant wire had stopped our onslaught -and protected the German.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, the results were worth the -effort. We counted our prisoners by hundreds, -we gathered from them much information. -Yes; but the gain was as nothing, so great had -been our hopes. We were bound to accept -another hibernation, dig in the earth again, -dig oftener and longer; look forward to a war -of greater duration, more murderous; recommence -the effort, accept not months, but years.</p> - -<p>The war ceased to be a human struggle. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -mass of material became appalling. It was -no longer a shock of arms, but an industrial -clash: the machine substituted for the valor -of a man, the contrivance become demoniac. -Cannon were made in enormous calibers. Old -pieces were replaced by huge-throated monsters, -and one guessed that the wily German, girt -for supreme effort, was preparing something -more, which would make the early part of the -war seem like child’s play.</p> - -<p>This is why the present war is impossible -of narration. It is no longer a battle of a certain -date. It is not, as in former times, a moment -in history, the clash of two wills, the -shock of two armed bodies of men. It is a -period in a century. It involves, not two -peoples, but the world. It is not a turning-point, -but a transformation. It is almost a -state of society: “C’est la guerre.”</p> - -<p>Later, in an unforeseen epoch, in the year -——, it will be taught the children as two dates: -the war began August 2, 1914; it ended ——. -All the tragedy, all our cries, our furies, our -agonies, our suffering and death—all this, -without name, blurred and indistinct, will be -contained between two numbers, and will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span> -mark two eons: that before the War, that after -the War. We will have fought and we will -have wept; our bodies will have been broken -and our hearts will have bled, without our -being able to say, “It happened as I have -told it,” for we will not know just how it happened. -We will be obliged to call to mind -the first day when grenades were used; the -day torpedoes came to light; the advent of the -four-hundreds. Facts will be mixed in our -troubled memories. We will no longer recall -all that happened to us. To be more explicit, -to create a truer picture, we will say:</p> - -<p>“At the Marne, we used rifles.”</p> - -<p>“In Champagne, we threw bombs.”</p> - -<p>“At Verdun—such cannon!”</p> - -<p>“On the Somme the shells flew so thick they -met in mid-air.”</p> - -<p>“And then—and then, America came!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">X<br /> - - -<small>VERDUN</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THOSE who have not been actively -engaged in the war cannot form any -conception of it. When they hear a -combatant speak of it, they say:</p> - -<p>“Then you fight all the time?” “No.” -Whereupon they think: “Then in the firing-line -one is not really in much danger.”</p> - -<p>Ah, not so fast, good people! In this war, -this new, present-day war, the vigilance is -continuous, the hand-to-hand struggle is not. -Shells fall unceasingly, but the open battle, -the assault, is not without interruption. Fortunately.</p> - -<p>Thus it was that after the German check, -after the Crown of Nancy had withstood the -foe’s attack, since the Marne in fact, the sector -at Verdun remained quiet.</p> - -<p>It was a particularly good point. Here and -there a sprinkle of shells, then nothing more.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -There was fighting everywhere else, in Flanders, -in Artois, in Champagne, even in the Woëvre -district, but not at Verdun. The sector was so -calm, that the only guard left there consisted of -Territorials, mostly older men. They worked -without too much effort, these fathers of families; -without much disturbance, doing general -work of repairs about the fortifications, pipe in -mouth, almost at peace in the midst of war. -In the winter of 1915 they shivered a little -with the cold; but the forest was near by, -wood was abundant, and the cold caused no -great suffering. In the evening, down in the -deep trenches, in the well-heated huts, or in the -powerful forts, such as Douaumont, Vaux, Vachereauville, -they basked in the heat as on a -sunny day. They looked at the falling snow -and the landscape sleeping under its white blanket. -They swept the snow with branches of -trees, blew on their fingers a little, accepted -their slight discomfort in patience.</p> - -<p>December passed, unusually cold; then -January came, bringing the new year. One -more year gone, one less to come! Soon the -beautiful days would come, the spring, and—who -knows?—perhaps peace. Germany was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -tired of it all, near the end of her resources, -and would give in. Every one had his own -definite idea on the subject. According to -one, peace would come before the end of June. -Another thought the war would last well toward -the end of July. No one imagined that the -following winter——</p> - -<p>February entered. At the listening-posts -one received a surprise: one noticed signs of -life and activity among the enemy.</p> - -<p>“They are unloading iron.”</p> - -<p>“They are doing a lot of talking.”</p> - -<p>Bah! The Boches were putting their affairs -in order. For more than a year the opposing -lines had been looking at each other -without any great exchange of blows. They -felt quite well acquainted. The fellows opposite -were taking good care of their own bones. -Some said they were only the Landsturm, who -were hibernating over there.</p> - -<p>In the town of Verdun the usual life continued. -The cafés were so crowded they turned -people away; concerts and theatres were in -full swing; everywhere there was great animation, -on account of the presence of troops in -increased numbers. One could not find a vacant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> -room to rent, and the price of provisions soared. -All the towns and even villages, where so many -troops were spending their money, were infected -with this fever of success, of easy money, -of the riches which rolled in. Verdun was no -exception to the rule. The citadel was choked -with troops: officers and privates, drinking -and laughing. To be sure, when the war goes -well, there is no need to be austere.</p> - -<p>February reserved its own surprise. The -short month, which amounts to nothing at all, -so short that it seems crippled, this one-armed -month, displayed in this particular year the -malice of a dwarf.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the German line burst into flame. -It was like a spark on a train of powder. Twelve -hundred cannon, perhaps more, crashed in -chorus.</p> - -<p>“<i>Alerte!</i> To arms!”</p> - -<p>Ah! Yes! Ground, hacked, mutilated, -overrun, those easy-going papas, the Territorials, -fought the best they could; but the -Argonne was the accomplice of the Boche. -The drive became irresistible. With the shell-power -of this massed artillery, the lines were -broken and obliterated. Under the storm of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -shells the trenches were levelled. It was not -an artillery battle, nor merely a violent attack. -It was rather an avalanche of explosives. -The molten torrent, crackling with sparks, -fantastic, inhuman, swept all before it. All -the massed Krupp guns in diabolic fury spat -their clots of flaming blood. The torn, disembowelled -earth leaped into the air and fell -in dust. A bitter smoke filled the air, dense -on the plain and dense on the mountain summit. -Douaumont became a forge, Vaux was a fiery -cyclone. Thavannes was a scarlet glow, le -Mort Homme was a continuous roar, and Verdun -heard the approaching thunder in apprehensive -dread.</p> - -<p>At the call for reinforcements the regiments -came in all haste, to bare their breasts to the -cannon. Fiercely the units clung to their -ground, placed their batteries, intrenched themselves, -and offered stubborn resistance. The -enemy still advanced. The adversary was -not an army division but all Germany, with -the dynasty, the Crown Prince, the old Haseleer -at their head. The defenders were again -faced by the terrible order, “Conquer or die,” -as on the Marne and the Yser. Once more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -that game was played. Once more it had -the upper hand. Destiny, impassive, looked -on.</p> - -<p>Three kilometres of retreat brought the -French to the Côte de Poivre.</p> - -<p>The Boche had orders to take, at all costs, -the “strongest citadel of France.” That success -would mean the death of our country. It -meant all France exposed to the foe, Paris -captured, Defeat. It meant Crime triumphant, -history violated, supremacy of brutal might, -humanity’s bonds reforged. It meant the -flower of the Revolution crushed and Liberty -in chains. It meant the Kaiser’s boot on the -neck of the world.</p> - -<p>“Do you wish aid?” came the message from -England, already preparing to send succor. -France responded proudly: “No! I can hold -my ground.”</p> - -<p>And she held it. The world knows it.</p> - -<p>An innumerable host, coated in dirty gray -like a repulsive animal, rushed on in its heavy, -obstinate bravery; as an infuriated bull with -lowered head madly charges his foe, so the -German brute in his blind rage hurled himself -toward us. In the path of the Hunnish Horde<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -stood French valor. <span class="smcap">They Shall Not Pass!</span> -Nor did they. But—what a struggle!</p> - -<p>All the slopes which form the heights of the -Meuse and are the ramparts of Gaul, resounded -as a monster forge. There Vulcan had set up -his furnaces. Such a battle is too great to be -recounted. It is the story of Thavannes, whose -immense tunnel of approach sheltered a whole -battalion at a time. It is the story of the fall -of Douaumont; then the siege of indomitable -Vaux, dauntless, resisting, panting, quivering -like a drum. There the shells fall at the rate -of ten per minute. Raynal is commanding -there: that is enough. Ten times the German -hurled his force against the fortifications, and -ten times he fell back, baffled. The garrison -stood its ground in a furnace of the damned. -New men entered by a breach, followed a narrow -path, found the postern gate, and leaped in. -For every man who came, came a shell. Overhead -twenty airplanes circled about, directing -the fire, like vultures above the eagle’s nest; -while the cannon on the surrounding heights -converged their fire.</p> - -<p>Vaux! Heroic name, name never to be -forgotten! Vaux, a rock burned by acids, by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -powder, by the fires of hell. Vaux held out -five days, six days—eight days! The sky at -night was a hot glow. The earth was one continuous -roar of explosions, enveloped in billows -of smoke. In that inferno men fought unto -death. Trenches, shelters, stone, and earthworks -were wiped away by the shells; the -battle left the protection of the ground and -swung into free space.</p> - -<p>The regiments were brought from the rear. -They were supplied with food and ammunition -by a whole army of camions, which looked -like an immense serpent twisting along the -road. Beyond Verdun the men entered directly -into the furnace. Their units melted -in the very act of going to the relief of their -comrades at the firing-line. No matter! They -advanced, leaping from one shell-hole to another, -up to the lines where the survivors of -the preceding regiments still held the assailant -at a distance. They were one man against -ten. Of a hundred who set out, only fifty arrived. -They felt the reassurance given by the -strength of Vaux. Vaux hammered by blows—but -Vaux still living, still French, withstanding -the tempest and defying the German. One -felt there the heart of steel in the fortress of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -rock. In addition to the battle all about -was the spectacle of a mass of masonry holding -an army in check.</p> - -<p>Vaux fell. Only thirst ended its resistance. -The enemy, stupefied to count the handful -of heroes who had thus held them at bay, rendered -the captives the highest honors. The -Commandant Raynal kept his sword; the -Crown Prince, in humility before such glory, -was glad to pay him homage, and asked to -be presented.</p> - -<p>Vaux fell, but Verdun was not taken. There -huge shells fell unceasingly. The German -loves the easy targets: a cluster of houses, a -town, is an object hard to miss. In the town, -then, the storm swept the streets. Entire -quarters went down in dust. Like Rheims, -like Soissons, like Ypres, like Liége, Verdun -was the victim of the Huns. People took refuge -in the citadel, in its enormous subterranean -chambers of massive masonry. There, where -the stone corridors were damp as cellars, night -and day both soldiers and civilians found shelter. -There young mothers nursed their babes, there -people of all conditions lived as best they could; -there, underground, helter-skelter, all piled -together. They could hear the shells of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -Hun falling on the city, the houses crumbling, -the wounded shrieking.</p> - -<p>All France and all the world had their eyes -on Verdun the inviolable; on Verdun surrounded -by flames, in the vortex of action; -on Verdun, which did not weaken. Without -respite, the Teutonic masses were hurled to -the assault. Like a sea of mud they poured -upon the outposts of the city. They were -beaten down by grenades, shells, machine-guns, -fire, shot, and powder; and They did -not pass!</p> - -<p>All about were scenes most thrilling. It -would be impossible to recount them all. We -must choose only one or two.</p> - -<p>One day, then, of date unrecorded (Verdun -held out eight months!), a troop going up to -the fortress of Thavannes found the railway -below and followed it. They came to the tunnel -and entered, although it was already much -encumbered. In vain did the gendarme on -guard try to oppose their passage: the newcomers -were too many. They numbered about -six hundred. Above them the battle raged. -They were intending to stop for breath, then -go on up the slope and take their posts, where -Death awaited them.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>No! They will never go so far. They seek -a reprieve for an instant in the tunnel, but -Death comes to meet them. In the long black -cavern are piles of ammunition in transit. -There are soldiers, and wounded men, and -mules, and general confusion. Some one, man -or beast (no one knows which), hits a case of -explosives. In the dark tube there is a flash, -an uproar, a cloud of smoke: four hundred -bodies lie mangled and scorched, as when the -fire-damp explodes in the depth of a mine. -The living make their way out as best they -can, leaving the dead and wounded. The -two hundred who escape reform their line, -mount the hill, enter the real furnace: this -other episode did not count. It was an extra, -for good measure. The accident could not -prevent the fulfilment of the task before them. -What were left of the battalion went where -their order sent them. Four hundred fell on -the way. Too bad. Orders are orders: they -are carried out by the remnant....</p> - -<p>This is only one instance in a thousand.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We all had a great curiosity to see the famous -precincts where the strife raged so violently. -It was almost with joy, therefore, that we received<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -our call. The day the order arrived -the news ran quickly through the ranks: “We -are going over there, boys!” “Over there” -meant Verdun. That was understood. We -hastened to get ready; we arranged knapsacks; -put our affairs in order. The vans were loaded, -the horses hitched. In the canteens we drank -to Victory, to the Return, to Good Luck. Eyes -glistened behind the smoke of pipes, and we -jostled and laughed. Even those who feared -the terrible adventure and dreaded death -concealed their uneasiness and cloaked it with -smiles. On the other hand, many danced for -joy, happy to have a part in the fight, to be -in full action.</p> - -<p>All together, pell-mell, happy and unhappy, -we were punctually on the spot appointed for -the automobiles to receive us when evening arrived. -The entire convoy waited behind a -hill. The drivers, muffled up in pelts, chatted -while waiting for us. They looked fantastic -in the dim light. Only two or three lanterns -winked and blinked in the night. One was -dimly aware of a file of conveyances lined up -along the edge of the road, like great beasts -asleep; the going to and fro of the officers of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -the convoy, and their colloquy with the colonel. -It was all more felt than seen. One could distinguish -only shadows; one heard the tramp -of men, the dull murmur of low-voiced talking, -sometimes an exclamation or a stifled oath.</p> - -<p>Then orders were transmitted by cyclists. -The first battalion set out. Hurriedly each -section climbed into the autos. These ought -to have carried twenty men each, but twenty-five -and even thirty were piled in, somehow, -with their arms, their luggage, their knapsacks, -their side-bags, their canteens. As -soon as a company was loaded in the captain -gave the order to go. One by one the cars -fell into line. The motors coughed and plunged -forward like a dog unleashed. Then ten more -machines received a new company, and departed -in their turn. They also were swallowed -up by the night.</p> - -<p>When my turn came, by some chance I was -assigned to an auto with the officers, where -we were much less crowded than in the large -vehicles of the privates. I therefore expected -to gain some further information concerning -our destination. In this I was disappointed, -as the officers knew very little about it; besides,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -from the time the motor started and -the auto was on its way no further conversation -was possible. We could not hear each -other, even when nearly shouting, and we -had enough to do in resisting the bumps which -threw us against each other. We inhaled the -dust: a thick, heavy dust, raised by the wheels. -It soon covered us completely. One could -feel it coating his face, and small grains of -sand rolled between one’s fingers. We could -not see, for the curtains were drawn down -tightly, and it was very dark. We travelled -as in an interminable tunnel, with no light -whatever, with no knowledge of what we were -passing or of the country we were traversing. -Sometimes there were sudden stops. The -quickly set brakes brought us to a standstill -with a jerk. We asked the driver: “What is -the matter? Where are we?” He scarcely -answered, for he knew no more than we. His -order was to follow the auto in front of him, -and to keep his machine twenty metres behind, -that he might avoid a collision in case of a too-sudden -stop. He followed his orders, and knew -nothing more. He did not even know the road -we were travelling. The car which led the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -procession carried the chief officer of the convoy. -Probably he was the only man besides -our colonel who knew our destination.</p> - -<p>Thus we journeyed four hours before dawn. -As the pale light invaded our rolling apartment -little by little, we saw how completely -we were covered with dust. We were white -from head to feet, like a miller dredged in his -flour. Our clothing was white, our hair, our -faces, our arms. We appeared grotesquely -like veritable old men. We looked each other -over and laughed. Then, as there was nothing -more to fear from the dust, a lieutenant raised -a curtain. We found ourselves on a winding -road in a charming, gently-rolling country. -Small trees formed tiny groves on the hillsides, -and the whole landscape was quite different -from that we had just left.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the captain made a gesture. He -had perceived an airplane, soaring directly -over us in a most disquieting manner. It was -flying too high for us to distinguish, even with -glasses, whether it was French or German; -but its manœuvres were suspicious. It had -command of the road, and seemed to be preparing -to fire on the convoy. In fact, that was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> -exactly what happened, a few minutes later, -when the flyer suddenly came lower and opened -fire with his mitrailleuse. The automobiles -increased their speed and lengthened the distance -from one to another. Nevertheless, the -aviator could move much faster than could we, -and he circled above us like a vulture over his -prey. Fortunately, he had no bombs, and his -aim was too uncertain to inflict much damage. -As it was, he wounded several men, and would -have wounded many more if the special guns -for the purpose had not opened fire on him, -or if three French planes had not appeared on -the horizon. At sight of them he made a hasty -escape, amid our shouts and jeers. Our -wounded were rapidly cared for by a surgeon, -and shortly after were placed in the first field-hospital -encountered on the road, amid the -ruins of a village. This village gave us the -first knowledge of our whereabouts. We were -entering the valley of the Woëvre, and Verdun -lay beyond the hills. The roll of the cannon -had become audible.</p> - -<p>After a short halt we set out again. This -time we entered the field of action. It was -evidenced by the constantly increasing number<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -of convoys encountered. Long lines of camions -were climbing toward the battle, loaded with -munitions or food; or, like our own, with men. -The road became very wide, encroaching some -distance into the fields. Some soldiers, in the -stream of conveyances, threw pebbles under -our wheels without as much as lifting their -eyes to look at us: they had seen so much already -that the spectacle of troops going under -fire interested them not at all.</p> - -<p>With our advance the scene changed rapidly. -We saw some autos overturned in a ditch -and burning. Some dead horses stretched their -rigid legs in the air. Under some tents men -bustled about with stretchers, instruments, -and boxes. These were the temporary dressing-stations, -where the men wounded on the route -were cared for: any who had met with accidents -from vehicles, as well as those who had -been hit by shell-splinters—for we had entered -the zone of projectiles, and stray splinters -reached even that far. The scene became indescribable. -It was a mob, where one felt -nevertheless a discipline, a sense of regulated, -methodical order. We were in the side-wings -of the battle, in the midst of its movable stage-settings,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -among the stage-hands, machinists, -electricians, and supernumeraries, whose activities -are unseen by the public, but who make -it possible for the performance to go on and -be brilliant. Long trains of horse-drawn caissons -followed each other at full speed. Field-ambulances, -marked with large red crosses, -slipped into the moving stream. Vehicles of -every sort, gray with dust or mud-bespattered, -rumbled, creaked, rolled along, stopped, started, -stuck in the ruts, freed themselves. The moving -line looked like the folds of a fabulous serpent.</p> - -<p>The voice of the cannon increased in power -and volume. It was like hearing an orchestra -of inferno. The ear received only a tremendous, -continuous roar, like the rolling of thunder -which never ceases.</p> - -<p>We could see the earth tossed high like a -geyser when a shell struck. We breathed the -pungent odor of the battle. We were getting -into it now. Most of the houses were demolished. -The buildings still standing all -bore the marks of war, with great ragged holes -in walls and roof, with stains of powder and -fire. Enough of them remained in close rows<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> -to indicate the streets leading into the town. -We crossed the Meuse and found ourselves -in the city. It appeared deserted. We looked -curiously up and down the streets, without -finding any sign of life whatever, except an -occasional hurrying soldier, a cyclist, or an -automobile racing at full speed between the -silent houses. We made some détours, crossed -squares, and skirted gardens. The whole city -lay open to our view; and above the roofs -the massive silhouette of the citadel spread -its protecting wings.</p> - -<p>The locking of wheels gave us a jolt: we -had arrived. Glad to tread the ground once -more, we leaped down and entered an abandoned -factory, where we were to camp. The -windows had long since lost their glass, but -the roof remained. It was a fragile protection -against shells, but quite adequate against wind -and rain. Along the walls was stacked dirty -straw, broken to crumbs by the many sleeping -troops. That was our bed. It would be for -many their last sleep before the sleep of death, -for the orders came immediately: we would -mount to the first lines at nightfall.</p> - -<p>The march into the battle was at first simple.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> -We advanced in the descending shadows, we -left the town behind. Before us the heavens -were streaked with the light of explosives. We -marched by sections, in silence. We marched -straight ahead, with heart beating quickly, -mouth dry, brain a blank. In spite of myself, -I set my teeth and gripped my hands. We -could not distinguish the road we trod, but -were dimly aware sometimes of trees stripped -bare, of low ruins, of puddles of water, of general -débris. We simply followed the man in -front, scarcely turning the head when a flock -of shells fell at the right, or left, or ahead. We -only knew we were in the zone where they -fell. We heard the hoarse shriek of the projectiles -high in the air, and the chorus of cannon -re-echoed in each breast. We no longer felt -the chill of the night air. We knew not if we -breathed. The farther we went, the more -difficult did the walking become. We stumbled -over the uneven ground, ploughed up by the -shells; but we were not yet in the place of -torment, and the missiles spared us. We passed -many moving shadows: couriers, orderlies, -estafettes, officers, wounded, we knew not -what. They were only dark objects moving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> -about in the night, outlined by the glow of -the projectiles; instantly swallowed again by -the shadows and giving place to others. We -knew nothing about them. We knew only -one great fact: that we were always advancing -toward the fire; we were approaching the first -lines, where the conflagration raged at white -heat.</p> - -<p>Then—we were in the midst of the shells. -The frenzy was on. The wounded cried out. -We held together the best we could. We -entered chaos. Whirlwinds of explosives enveloped -us. They were above, around, beneath. -The very earth leaped up and lashed -our faces and hands. Violent gusts of hot -wind shook us. We ran. We joined some -other comrades. We could not proceed in -lines, but moved in groups. There were no -longer any usable trenches. They were torn -open, crushed in, filled up, making any advance -in them impossible. Therefore we -marched in the open, and we advanced. We -would leap into a shell-crater, catch our breath -for a second, look out for another hole, and -hurl ourselves into it as quickly as possible. -The rain of steel enveloped everything, in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> -tumult unbelievable. We scarcely knew if -we lived; we certainly thought no more about -death. The fixed, absolute, imperious idea, -the only surviving thing in our consciousness, -was to arrive at our destination, where we -could give our service. We felt that we were -near the spot and must attain it.</p> - -<p>We often lost our way. The officers looked -for the road, asked the direction, shouted orders. -We understood as best we could. We ran at -full speed, threw ourselves flat on the ground, -sprang up and ran again. We knew only one -thing: we <i>must</i> succeed in reaching our appointed -post, we must reach the firing-line: -we could not stop, we could not rest, until -we found the location of the regiment we were -sent to relieve.</p> - -<p>For three hours we plunged across the jagged -fields. The ground rose and fell and rose again. -Sometimes, behind a pile of earth, we found -some men. We shouted some questions. They -knew nothing to tell us, as they were not of -the regiment which we sought. They were out -of breath, like ourselves; or they were wounded, -or they had just been relieved, or they had -just arrived and were themselves seeking their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -post, or they were hopelessly lost and joined -in with us. If they were officers, they questioned -us:</p> - -<p>“What regiment?” “Where are you going?” -“What division?” “What army?” -“Have you seen such and such a regiment?” -“No.” “Yes, at the right.” “Over at the -left.” “Make room there!”</p> - -<p>Some ambulances charged past. We saw -some first-aid stations in full operation, with -wounded shrieking all about. Some couriers, -out of breath, shouted instructions: “Go -straight on. Your regiment is two hundred -metres from here, near the canal.”</p> - -<p>Finally we arrived, under such a hail of -bullets, machine fire, and shrapnel that we -were not even conscious of danger. We found -some men, half buried in holes, who went away -and left us. They melted into the night.</p> - -<p>We had reached our post on the firing-line, -in an unknown plain, which seemed to be -flooded with dead bodies, as a fallow field is a -riot of corn-flowers and nettles. We had no -idea how we had succeeded in reaching the spot.</p> - -<p>There was nothing more to do but fight and -in our turn, wait for the Relief, or for Death.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XI<br /> - - -<small>THE TOUCH OF DEATH</small></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">I   HAVE no intention, in writing this work, -to describe the entire war. It would be -an impossible task, and I do not suppose -that any author who is a contemporary of the -immense tragedy would have the presumption -to attempt it. To undertake such a task with -success, it would be necessary to wait until -many years had effaced the secondary details, -leaving in the foreground only the principal -facts. Then, too, each person sees the war in -his own way, from his own point of view, and -can relate neither the ensemble nor the particular -detail after the same fashion as his neighbor. -It is all a question of individuality in -handling such a subject. That which one is -able to tell is merely a résumé of certain brief -instants lived in the furnace; in long waits, -which are told by a few words, but which lasted -for months. We must, then, leave to the future<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -historians the literary task of enclosing in a -single book the story of the events which have -upset and transformed the world; as Homer’s -Iliad in its brief pages narrates the War of -Troy, which lasted ten years. All that the -writer of the present day may depict are separate -minutes of the time in which we lived, -and the sensations of a man who is only one -of the hundred millions of combatants. Therefore -I cannot add much to what I have told -concerning Verdun.</p> - -<p>We remained there four days. So short a -time! and yet in this brief space a regiment -melted away as the iron melts in the crucible. -Four days under fire, and two battalions disappeared. -When our relief came, scarcely one-third -of our number survived; and of that -third not one could tell clearly just what had -passed. We had lived, though we knew not -how, under the rain of steel, of flames, of flying -earth, of splintering shells, of breaking stones; -knocked about, thrown to the earth, rising -only to fall again; eating little, drinking less; -without sleep, without rest, battered and torn, -but still clinging to our post.</p> - -<p>Automobiles had brought us, automobiles<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -took us away. We were gray with dust when -we came; we went away looking like blocks -of earth. Nothing about our uniforms was -recognizable. Mud and clay blotched our -faces and hands, matted our hair and beards, -stiffened our shirts, weighed down our clothing. -We had all grown old. Our eyes were sunken, -our features drawn, our lassitude was extreme. -Nevertheless, we almost ran when permitted -to go away. We knew that the danger pursued -us, and we mustered enough energy to -escape. Again we ascended the hills, descended -the slopes; again we saw the same spectacles -we had seen in coming. It was our turn to -cry to the arriving troops: “Count your bones, -boys, it is getting hot!”</p> - -<p>Yes, it was getting hot! The surging flood -of Germans beat upon the French fortress -like sea-breakers upon a rocky coast. The -uproar increased. It seemed that the utmost -limits of the possible must be reached, but -each day those limits receded. Each day more -cannon crashed; each day the explosions were -faster and more furious; each day the storm -augmented. One made his escape as from a -horrible nightmare. Our ears hummed. Our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -nerves, strained to the breaking-point, vibrated -and quivered like the strings of a violin. We -could have dropped in our tracks from suffering -and weakness.</p> - -<p>However, an immense pride sustained our -waning physical force. Mud-bespattered, thin, -repulsive, we resummoned our stamina when -we heard a command, at the edge of a ruined -village; a general was looking at us. Instantly, -backs straightened, heads lifted; bayonets -were fixed on gun-barrels. Our troop, panting -with exhaustion, but proud, impeccable, filed -past that man, our chief, whose clear eyes were -fixed upon us. We understood each other. -Without words, without speech, our faces told -him, “We have given our lives; ‘They’ have -not passed!” and, without a word, his look responded: -“I know it.”</p> - -<p>We had our reward. Somehow our physical -pains disappeared. Our effort, our sacrifices, -our fears, our wounds, had been of service; -the baffled enemy was stumbling without progressing, -was crumbling away. Verdun held, -and behind her protecting arm France still -lived.</p> - -<p>Just the same, the time had come to seek<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -the automobiles. We could not hold control -of ourselves except when on our feet. The -instant we stopped moving about, the instant -we were seated, or reclining, no matter in what -position we relaxed for a single second, we were -asleep. Neither jolts, nor knocks, nor sudden -stops interrupted our giant sleep. We slept -without a remnant of physical sensation. We -slept violently, as heavy and inert as dead -men. We slept with all our body, all our heart -and soul; fists clinched, mouths open; shaken -about, wholly unconscious, carried away less -like men than like parcels of cloth, earth, flesh, -and accoutrement. We no longer had names -or personality. We were nothing but clods, -utterly at the end of our vitality.</p> - -<p>Thus we crossed the country, passing bivouacs -where troops were encamped, roads where -convoys were mounting toward the battle-line, -forests where cavalry were awaiting their -call. The noise of the cannon diminished to -a distant rumble, became faint, and was lost. -We slept on. Occasionally, a man stretched -himself, changed position, and plunged again -into oblivion like the rest. Some, in their -dreams, cried out disconnected words, mumbled,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -or wept. A madman in my carriage suddenly -leaped out and plunged into the blackness -of the night. He was not missed until -the next day. Three camions had passed -over him, leaving him nothing but a mangled -rag on the road.</p> - -<p>At last we reached our destination, and -came to life again. A camp was ready to receive -us—a camp so new and fresh we thought -it almost elegant. There were Adrian barracks<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> -of unpainted spruce, with water for -drinking and water for washing; with coffee -prepared, fresh bread, hot soup, and abundance -of clean straw. We knew that the horrible -inferno was at an end for us; at evening -a train would take us each to his own family -to enjoy a furlough.</p> - -<p>To come out of the abyss of hell and arrive -at his own hearthside is an emotion too deep -for a mortal man. He knows not if he is living -in reality or in a dream. He goes on mechanically. -He is hairy, barbarous, dirty, hideous. -He is black, and torn, and bruised, and ragged. -He reeks of powder, blood, and earth. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -trembles. He is conscious of a sensation of -joy—he feels it without comprehending it.</p> - -<p>Before long the train will be in the station. -His wife will be there with his mother, his -father, and others who are dear. They will -take him in their arms. They will hold him, -they will press him to their hearts. He will -feel the sweet thrill of their touch; he will -receive their caresses, will hear the familiar -voices. His heart beats fast. A feeling of -faintness sweeps over him; he puts his hand -before his eyes. He speaks to his neighbor. -He laughs. He drinks a little, he smokes. He -suddenly feels smothered. It must be his great-coat -which bothers him; he pulls it off. He -holds imaginary conversations with himself. -He gesticulates. He recounts what he has -seen, what he has done, what he has said; the -death of his comrades, the frightful wounds of -his dearest friends. He strives to classify his -recollections; he yawns, he gives it up. The -battle still crowds his brain, obsesses him, holds -him, fills his entire consciousness. The other -men are like himself. Some laugh, some sing, -some sleep.</p> - -<p>The special train rolls away—passes stations,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -traverses pleasant country, arrives at towns, -whistles, snorts, runs smoothly, flies over the -rails, carries him on and on. The man is dumb -with amazement: a field where reapers are -binding the grain enchants him; a glimpse of -a garden where a woman is hanging up washing -moves him to tenderness. A house intact -astonishes him. The panorama passes before -his window, is gone, is repeated. It is not yet -the country, the province, where he was born, -but that is approaching. Familiar names are -seen at the stopping-places along the track. -In an hour the train will reach his station. -He can no longer sit still. He rises, fusses -with his clothing, sits down, gets up again. -The train no longer is going fast enough. It -is stopping. What for? Now it goes again. -Good. There it is stopping again! This is -deadly. Villainous train! Villainous trip! -Villainous life!</p> - -<p>At last it is his own country, his own town, -his own station ... and the train is stopping! -Yes, the family are all there, running to meet -him. The man leaves the carriage; he falls -into their arms; he leans on their shoulders. -Tears are on his cheeks; his mind is benumbed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> -he can only look. There is father, there is -mother, there is wife and child.</p> - -<p>“Well, well! How are you?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, all right,”—somewhat abstractedly.</p> - -<p>He pulls himself together, recovers his -strength and composure. He stands erect, -proudly. He is bruised, stained, and dirty; -a dreadful object, at once repulsive and sublime. -He is in the midst of his doting, distracted -family, who forget all the questions -they had planned to ask about himself and -the war, and can only ask: “Are you hungry? -are you thirsty? are you warm?” He does -not know if he is or not. He feels no need of -anything. He goes with them. He recognizes -the land, the road, the trees, and the houses. -He breathes deeply. What delicious air! He -is hurried along. As he passes the neighbors -exclaim:</p> - -<p>“There he is!”</p> - -<p>He is safe and whole, he is brave and noble. -He wears on his breast the Croix de Guerre. -He is petted. He is washed and cleaned and -mended and taken out for a promenade. He -tries to tell his story, but he tells it badly: he -has not the words for it. He knows not how<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span> -to express all the misery endured, the bodily -suffering, the horror of the battle. He tells -little fragments of stories, and already he is -forgetting the most terrible features. The -struggle which was beyond all comprehension -seems small when he tries to recount it. It -becomes nothing more than a local fight with -grenades, a patch of ground occupied in the -night, a brook crossed—a thing of shadow and -of mystery. It is no longer grandiose. It -really was a catastrophe: it becomes a mere -fist fight. However, they listen, they ask questions. -He must repeat and go into detail. -And he, who has escaped the jaws of death, -who by a miracle has come out of the destruction, -who feels with strangeness the new pulses -of life, he runs about to see his friends, he shakes -the burden from his thought, he amuses himself—and -finally is aware that the time has -passed like a flash of lightning and he must -again depart. Then the anguish again lays -hold upon him; for that which he could not -tell clearly he knows only too well. No fibre -of his being has forgotten it. His flesh creeps -at the thought of entering again the bath of -blood, of noise, of war; the long vigils in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> -trench, the whistle of the shells, the infantry -attack.</p> - -<p>He goes to join his regiment. He is loaded -with delicacies, tobacco, and presents. He -has new socks on his feet and a new sweater -on his back. He is made over, he is a man -again. He is sad, but he goes: there is no other -way.</p> - -<p>Once more he is at the front with all its -horrors. He is in a sector of great commotion, -where ruins pile upon ruins; where the very -earth under his feet explodes; where a fresh -drive is being pushed; where no minute is -without its danger. There is the patrol toward -the enemy’s lines, the life underground, the -sky shot with airplanes, the shrapnel overhead -and the mine under feet. There is the -torpedo coming with its ugly growl; there -are all the changing forms in which death -beckons—the Grim Monster which prowls and -shrieks; there is the agony renewed.</p> - -<p>The attack is resumed. The attack, yes. -“C’est la Guerre.” There is no longer, as in -former days, a battle of a single day, wherein -one is either victor or vanquished, where the -outcome is decisive. The attack of to-day is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span> -one of the rôles in the drama of life, like being -a soldier. Yes, it is life itself.</p> - -<p>We made an attack, then, on a certain day, -toward Mont Cornillet, which stood out before -us like a volcano of chalk. The German and -French artillery were crossing their shell-fire. -Below, the French were holding. The position -was hardly tenable after it was gained, -and we were trying to enlarge and strengthen -it a bit. My regiment, entirely reformed and -equipped, formed a part of the advancing force. -Each man, grown wise from his experience in -war, could estimate the distance, and the effect -of the firing. It was going well. It was hard, -but the firing was good. Perhaps we would -suffer less this time than on former occasions. -Perhaps once more we would return alive. -But then, what matter? One is a fatalist in -such moments. Destiny will decide. A man -is nothing, can do nothing. He is a mere atom, -a drop of water in the ocean, a grain of sand in -the desert. He goes where the wind drives him. -If he is lucky, he comes back alive; if he is unlucky, -he returns to the bosom of the earth. It -is all very simple, clear, and clean-cut. The -sacrifice was made long since. Once for all, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> -very first time, he has said: “What will come, -will come.” He has left his home, he has -marched, he has fought, he has suffered. Some -men have been killed, others only await their -turn. Infinite Fatality holds them in her hand. -Those who believe in God, and that God brings -solace, have their comfort always with them. -They piously attend religious service when they -can, wherever the chaplain sets up his altar: -in a crushed-in chapel of a demolished village, -or in a barn without a roof, or in the trench -itself. The man who believes in nothing has -no greater fear of death.</p> - -<p>Certainly, were it not for the war, one would -have lived otherwise. One would have lived -in a world of work, with its pains and pleasures, -founding a family and rearing his children. -One would have lived as lived his father; one -would have had a wife like his mother; one -would have pursued happiness. But this dream -is one of peace. Now, “C’est la Guerre.” The -giant struggle passes the control of men, and -its unknown end is still far off. One no longer -fights merely for his home, his land, his own -well-being. One feels that these things have -become dwarfed in the tremendous world<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> -tragedy, and that at the foundation it has -to do with great principles, ideals, and human -destiny.</p> - -<p>The soldier in action does not see so far. -The immediate, the concrete, demand his close -scrutiny; but he feels that the war is waged -for all the human race, and that his blood will -not flow in vain. Emancipation is coming. -Man is throwing aside autocratic authority; -he has reached his age of majority and wishes -to be free. Society impels and guides him. -He is no longer the soldier of a people, he is -the soldier of a principle. He fights for the -triumph of ideals that are noble, ideals that -are just, ideals that are free. He assists at -the ghastly death-throes of an autocracy which -can live only through his enslavement. He -knows the price of a revolution: some men -must die that others may live. He accepts -it. He knows not just how great must be his -sacrifice. He knows only that he is resigned.</p> - -<p>I saw all this among my comrades. I gathered -it in their discussions: for we talk, at the front. -The squad argues, reads the newspapers, makes -its comments, follows the trend of events when -it can. But—when the “Coup de Chien”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> -comes; when the unit enters an engagement; -when one fills his cartridge-box or receives -his case of grenades; when one goes over the -top, to storm the enemy’s parapets and rush -to the assault, all else disappears, is wiped -out. There remains only exaltation and the -act of the moment—a sacrament.</p> - -<p>The zero hour is passed from one to another -in advance. The attack will be at ten o’clock. -A half-hour before, each man is in his place. -The artillery fire is redoubled. The German -knows that his last minutes have come. As -for ourselves, we are attentive and impatient. -The anguish of the drive puts our nerves on -a tension; eyes take on a hard look, hands -grip convulsively. One wishes he could start, -leap to the surface, cross No Man’s Land on -the run, and drop into the opposite trench. -The half-hour drags on slowly.</p> - -<p>The hour strikes. With one leap, furiously, -the first wave bounds forward, spreads, and -crosses the intervening space. The second -line follows. We of the next line look and -listen. They cry out—they go on—they are -running—they arrive! We start. The others -are already upon the German. The grenades<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> -crackle and snap. The machine-guns spit, -the airplanes hum, the shells burst. Forward, -forward! We run at full speed. Each knows -his rôle. Each knows his act, his allotted piece -of work. Each is strangely lucid. The movement -is admirable. All is going well, everything -is working out with precision. We will -gain our point. With an infallible glance the -soldier knows the outcome, and in that moment -he judges his chief without error, without -appeal.</p> - -<p>The trench is taken. The shelters are -crushed in, the dead are lying all about. Pale -and haggard prisoners run toward us, huddled -together with up-lifted arms to give themselves -up:</p> - -<p>“Gut Franzose! Kamarad! Polones, Polones!”</p> - -<p>They are Poles: big and little, tall and short; -a whole troop. They shrink, now. They would -like to run. They are anxious to get away -from the place, for the miserable creatures -cling to life and fear the shells, their own shells, -the German shells, which follow each other -in gusts. We drive them on. They go as captives. -Three pass, a Frenchman follows, then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> -three more prisoners and another Frenchman, -with gun ready. The procession follows the -wrecked trench, leaps over the débris, reaches -the open space between our lines. Now there -is less danger. The prisoners are parcelled -off by twenties and are led to the rear. They -stop at the first post where wounded are cared -for. The stretchers are taken up and carried -by the same men who made the wounds, by -these men now quite docile, who, dressed in -dirty gray made still more dirty by the ground, -march with their burden, fearful, but at heart -happy: for them the war is over.</p> - -<p>It will continue for their conquerors who -still live. Death has once more made her choice. -The prisoners are safe. Those others who took -them will die perhaps to-morrow, on this same -ground or on another. Satiated to-day, the -Grim Monster is reserving them: they are -kept for a coming feast of death.</p> - -<p>How well they know it! but they care not -at all. They are tired and happy. They wander -about the captured trench and gather up little -nothings: fragments of clothing, pieces of arms, -splinters of cartridges. They go to and fro; -or, impassive, they choose a corner and go to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span> -sleep, indifferent to the shells, to the battle -which is dying out; indifferent to to-day and -to-morrow.</p> - -<p>They know their task is accomplished.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1">FOOTNOTES:</p> -</div> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[A]</a> The trial of Mme. Caillaux for the murder of the editor of -<i>Le Figaro</i>.—<span class="smcap">Translator.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[B]</a> “Les compagnons—ceux avec qui on rompt le pain.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[C]</a> The banquette is about eighteen inches above the pathway -at the bottom of the trench. The men stand here when firing -or when on guard.—<span class="smcap">Translators’ Note.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[D]</a> The trenches were about seven feet deep. On the forward -side was a step, or ledge, on which the men could stand when -shooting.—<span class="smcap">Translators’ Note.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[E]</a> It has been found that water must not touch the skin for -many hours after suffering a gas attack. The chemical action -of the water rots the flesh. For the same reason the “poilu” -is now clean-shaven: the poison of gas remains in a beard for -days, and perspiration adds to the dangers of inhalation.—<span class="smcap">Translator.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[F]</a> Literally, “I am gnawing them away.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[G]</a> Adrian barracks are made in sections, which enables them -to be put up or taken down quickly.—<span class="smcap">Translator’s Note.</span></p> - -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - - - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> -</div></div> -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 68301 ***</div> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3f4686c..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/coversmall.jpg b/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/coversmall.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b678525..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/coversmall.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i006.jpg b/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i006.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3f6ac41..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i006.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i_133.jpg b/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i_133.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c773667..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i_133.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i_publogo.jpg b/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i_publogo.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4b1efa2..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i_publogo.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i_title.jpg b/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i_title.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 792a5b1..0000000 --- a/old/old-2025-01-22/68301-h/images/i_title.jpg +++ /dev/null |
