when i woke, dawn was stealing in by the door which was once more open. judsi had installed himself at it, his legs dangling outside. we all looked the worse for wear and had puffy faces.
where were we? it was dreary, barren country, an indefinite switchback of bald ridges. the rocky part of champagne apparently. exactly. a few minutes later our train drew up at rheims.
the weather was dull and drizzly. we felt cold when we got out: the men began to stamp their feet. we n.c.o.'s joined up together. descroix and humel complained bitterly of stiffness. the filthy carriages! must have been made on purpose for us! everyone was sighing for his coffee. guillaumin preached patience. frémont had wandered off to scribble a letter. de valpic was pale and silent and heavy-eyed.
i left them and went in search of some clean water. when i came back, tidied up and much refreshed, coffee had been brought. the tin drinking cups were plunged at will into the "dixeys." it was scalding! a real treat! there was "rooty" too. and the sun came out: we were reviving.
soon, a circle formed round lieutenant henriot.[pg 151] in order to make himself pleasant playoust had put certain questions to him concerning the strategical situation. the other at once owned that he had had certain hints from the colonel—oh, it was official then!—certain indications....
i drew near. he spread out a map on a seat, and began to speak with great fluency.... i tried for a moment to follow him, but disobliging shoulders got in the way. he was pointing out certain landmarks and routes, and giving the names of towns and villages. it was all a closed book to me! i got tired of it and went off; i was inclined to mistrust these perorations by a subaltern.
our train was shunted back, and we started again.
i was tired and peevish, and fumed at the length of our journey. eighteen hours already, and we were nowhere near the end!
our destination still remained a mystery, a problem which disquieted us.
guillaumin plumped for sedan, and worried me to tell him what i thought.
"what on earth does it matter to me?"
"do you think they'll come back as far as that?"
to annoy him, i said:
"sure to!"
he exclaimed:
"well, to be going on with, you know we're at mulhouse! absolutely official!"
on the outskirts of ste.-menehould, there was a prolonged halt, without permission to get out. another convoy was standing on a side line. there were some poilus on the platform. bouillon drew attention to their regimental numbers. they belonged[pg 152] to our division. the men at once called to each other, and asked them to join in a drink. everyone was delighted. it seemed little short of marvellous to find neighbours from their part of the world, beaucerons, so far from home!
a new start. the country was becoming hilly and picturesque. there were some gorges and then a long tunnel. there was no more doubt about the direction we were taking! corporal bouguet, who had served his term with the 4th, was most emphatic: we were taking a bee-line to verdun!
good! the idea of fighting under the shelter of a powerful fortress was not displeasing.
two hours more. the valley of the meuse was reached, verdun attained, and then left behind.... the deuce! were they going to detrain us at the frontier in the first line...?
no, a few miles farther on, the train stopped in the depths of the country. there was a bugle call, and henriot shouted:
"here we are!"
"where?"
"at charny, the terminus. out you get! and no disorder, you understand!"
in three minutes we were on the ground, arms and baggage and all.
the captain passed by.
"you're not over-tired?"
lamalou thumped his chest.
"in the pink, sir!"
"so much the better, because you've got a nice little walk before you!"
some long faces were pulled. it was nearly midday. we had had nothing to eat and the heat was killing.
[pg 153]
"now we return to business!" said judsi.
we went into the neighbouring field through a gap in the hedge. gaudéreaux bent down and picked up a clod of earth. he sniffed at it.
"pooh!" he said. "it ain't up to ours!"
the lieutenant heard him, and reproved him for it.
"it's the same thing, it's french soil. it's what we are going to be killed for."
did he count on producing an effect? the other gazed at him, dumbfounded!
a little walk indeed! i chewed the word with rage during the seven hours that this march lasted. did they think it was the right way...? the right way to discourage the men!
no respite except the hourly halts, and they managed to cheat over them, by not whistling until the hour, or an hour and five minutes was up, or cutting them short by two minutes!
if there was one thing that astonished me it was the goodwill and endurance, which i saw manifested all round me. "grouse," the first day? oh no, that was out of the question! a praiseworthy resolution! when going through the villages, the men found a way, even when absolutely done up, of putting on a spurt, and making eyes at all the pretty girls!
judsi sang snatches of very doubtful songs, which made some of them laugh, while others, their more flighty sisters, blew us kisses.
corporal bouguet all at once started a marching song: the men joined in the chorus: the captain did not interfere, but the commanding officer came rushing up, a pot-bellied puppet, perched up on his big horse. oh, come along! what was all this? would they[pg 154] shut up? would they never think of the war as something to be taken seriously?
this rating was upsetting. another incident helped to damp their spirits. the distracted group we passed on the roadside ... a lieutenant, a corporal, the cyclist, and an auxiliary medical officer, surrounding a man stretched on the ground, a reservist who had just fallen out. i caught sight of a violet face and glassy eyes.
the rumour spread that it was a fit.
the name of the man was soon discovered; he belonged to the 21st company, and was named gaspard métairie, a coppersmith from f——. dead? oh, yes! lying there like a log! i listened to the men's remarks. poor wretch! it made one's heart bleed. so soon. and so stupidly. if it had been some of the bosches' work there would have been nothing to be said. but like that! simply tired out! fathers of families, just think! carrying the full weight!... but what was the good of fussing? the war would not be over this evening!
"oh, a lot they care wot becomes of us," loriot said. "i'm done, i am!"
he retired on to the footpath.
"what's the matter now?" i shouted to him.
"no good. can't go on!"
"what can't go on?"
"i can't. i'm an old trooper, i am!"
he stopped and tried to sit down. the whole column slowed down, much interested and amused.
"march up, confound you!"
the captain overtook us.
"what's up?"
my nerves were on edge. i don't know what put[pg 155] the whim into my head, but i gave a dry description of the scene at which i had assisted, the verdict given by the medical officer, and the man's recriminations, swearing that he would make a point of falling at the first shot.
loriot was hugging himself and pretending to be in awful pain.
the captain did not pronounce an opinion.
"stay with him, sergeant; you will report him to the medical officer."
so we waited. loriot sulking and livid with rage. i irritated at the thought that this task ought to have fallen to playoust, the sergeant of the day.
the companies, as they marched past included us in the same glance of ironical pity.
surgeon-major bouchut recognised his "client," as he called him, at the first glance.
"ah! it's hurting you, is it? easy enough to say so! i can't examine you here. come along, jump in there! we shall soon see!"
under my very eyes, loriot hoisted himself up into the ambulance, settled himself down comfortably, and began to chat with the orderlies.
infuriated by my own stupidity and the delay it had cost me, i hurried on.
the road went up and up. i began to experience the smothered sensation in the shoulders and chest caused by having to carry a pack. every hundred yards—and what a bore it was—the buckle of my sling came undone, as the point was blunted and did not catch properly, and the rifle slipped. an inconvenience which could not be remedied, and which seemed likely to pursue me throughout the campaign. it was about four o'clock; the sun was still blazing,[pg 156] drops of perspiration gathered inside the men's caps and occasionally trickled on to the ground. to think that this march was nothing: mere child's play.
the worst of it was that just as i was about to catch the others up, my right foot began to feel sore. i remembered that the evening they had delivered these boots.... at the first halt i quickly took off both boot and putties.
the inspection filled me with consternation. i had hoped my stocking alone was responsible for it.... not at all, there was no irksome fold. it was the counter right enough. what was to be done? the fatal blister was gathering. the prospect of hours of atrocious pain stared me in the face. the little courage i had oozed away.
i was dying of thirst; i poured out a cupful. the water was warm, but it refreshed me all the same. catching sight of de valpic, lying down with sunken cheeks, i went up to him.
"de valpic?"
he opened his eyes.
"will you have ... a drink?"
"but you...?"
"i've got plenty, don't you worry. i noticed ... your water-bottle is leaking, isn't it?"
"yes, i don't know how it happened. it's very troublesome."
"hand me your drinking cup. there now. wait a minute!" i half-filled it for him, added a few drops of ricqles, and pulling my mess-tin out of my haversack offered him some sugar. he took two pieces, but greedily drank a mouthful without waiting for it to melt.
"thanks; my throat was so terribly parched."
[pg 157]
a wave of red flooded his cheeks.
"you're a good sort, dreher."
i sat down beside him and asked him in a friendly way whether he was not awfully tired?
"i look it, don't i?"
"oh! just like everyone else!"
the whistle blew! i left him.
"cheer up!"
but at the next pause i avoided looking in his direction. there was only enough water for me.
a few more miles. the men were grumbling quite openly now. from time to time one would fall out, and all at once, or little by little lose ground, and get left behind by the platoon. what was there to be said? i interfered no more. these fellows had not had a bite since five o'clock that morning.
were we to leave these stragglers their rifles, or not?
the subaltern said they were to be taken away.
the result was that those who remained threatened to give up in their turn. two rifles to drag about, not much! they were quite willing to do their bit, but they were not going to be put upon, not them!
lieutenant henriot changed his mind.
"each man will keep his own rifle!"
"too late now. how are we to find the owners of them all?"
he got scared.
"i was wrong. i made a mistake!" he repeated.
guillaumin reassured him by saying all the poilus were sure to turn up.
one would have thought that it all amused him, the long day's march, the hunger and thirst,—everything. he kept on joking—rather too familiarly perhaps—with lamalou and judsi and those of our men who still[pg 158] held out. he even took it into his head to talk theatres to me! i soon sent him off with a flea in his ear, as may be imagined. he did not notice for some time that i was limping.
"foot hurting you?"
"yes."
he offered to carry my pack. i was on the point of allowing him to, but lamalou, who was watching me furtively, jeered.
"halloa, sergeant! you following poor loriot's example?"
"no. i've got a sore foot," i said; "but i am going to stick to it all right."
on my refusal guillaumin took on another lame dog's pack. lamalou soon followed his example.
i only kept on automatically. my heel must be quite raw. perhaps i was risking the fate of my whole campaign. it couldn't be helped. in my heart of hearts i almost congratulated myself on this opportunity of escape.
we ended by breaking all ranks. sections, platoons, and companies were all mixed up. we were just a herd, and at the entrance to a little hamlet when the order was passed down to shoulder arms no one budged. not much! we're not so green as all that! give us a bite o' some'at first!
but it was not to be so lightly disregarded! the captain rode down what remained of our column, and repeated the order, brandishing his whip furiously. the men made up their minds to obey it. we found out the reason for it afterwards.... a general surrounded by his staff, was watching us march past ... someone whispered that it was the general in command of the division.
[pg 159]
it was unfortunate that this should be his first experience of us. he took stock of us superciliously; his forehead puckered in a frown of disillusionment. the men growled.
"like to see you in our place, old chap, with an empty stomach, and a pack on your back!"
oh, that arrival at our billets in orne, a village of five hundred inhabitants, already overflowing with troops of all kinds. oh, how depressed we were, both physically and morally. i was especially exhausted. there was a complete lack of any spirit of organisation among the authorities, and the troops were totally out of hand. we were obviously worth nothing at all!
where and how did the men get food? guillaumin luckily took charge of the whole section. i believe he bustled about, got hold of the mess-corporal, and was the first to arrive with a fatigue party, at the issue of rations which took place in the market-square towards midnight.
i had sacrificed my "posse," but i still had some bread and hard-boiled eggs left that i had brought with me from f——. i took off my accoutrements and boots and installed myself in the best corner of the stable reserved for our lot, and slept on the straw till five o'clock next morning.
