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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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