[7] All numerals relate to stories told herein--not to chapters in the
book.
"PRISONER OF WAR"--A SOLDIER'S TALES OF THE ARMY
_From the Battlefield to the Camp_
_Told by André Ward, a Soldier in the French Army--Translated by M.
Jourdain_
These are the personal experiences of a common soldier. He tells
his tales from the viewpoint of the man in the ranks. His stories
have been collected into a volume "Prisoner of War." The first
of these is here told by permission of the publishers, _J. B.
Lippincott Company_.
[8]I--STORY OF A PRIVATE--LOOKING BACKWARD
Paris again, with its streets, where one can walk where one likes, and
its restaurants, where one can eat what one pleases, its real houses,
real laughter, and real bread! There it is, after seven days and seven
nights in the train. I look at my ragged and buttonless overcoat, with
its strap pinned on by a safety pin, and the dirty strip of stuff which
was once my red cross _brassard_, and I fancy it is all a dream.
People ask me to "tell them all about it." That isn't easy; just at
present I am afraid of losing grip of my will and memory. I think I
have lost the taste for writing, just as I have lost the taste for good
tobacco and good wine. These last two days I have been constantly asked
what I thought of such and such a wine or cigar. I tell you I don't
"think" anything at all. I have lost the habit of such flavours, and it
is only by degrees that I shall begin to understand them again. Give me
time....
In the same way I must have time to think before telling my story.
For the moment I can only see the past--all that happened nine months
ago--through a mist of confused impressions, with here and there some
quite unimportant event in clear relief against it. I can see the
bustle and hurry of mobilisation, our start from the barracks, our
marching through Nancy, and people crowding round us with fruit and
wine and flowers; there was a dahlia or a rose stuck in every man's
gun-barrel. Then the strains of the _Marseillaise_ and the _Chant du
Départ_. We were covered with sweat and dust, and women embraced us.
Then, and for the first time, I had a feeling that we were on our
way to things heroic and difficult--things we _had_ to do, however
difficult. And then on we went again, and here my recollections
become confused--a medley of crossing the frontier and tearing down
the frontier posts; the first sound of the guns; the first fusillade;
the men who fell, who had to be left behind our lines; the Boches in
flight; the intoxication of advancing; and then the sudden halt at
Morhange. Why did we stop there? I have not the least idea; a private
soldier never has. I remember marches and counter-marches at night,
heartrending marches on roads crowded with troops, among dragoons,
gunners with their guns, carts of all sorts, and ambulances and wounded
men who were being attended to. Then we fell back, and at the Grand
Couronné de Nancy we were told to halt. There was a rumour that the
enemy was quite near, and that he must not be allowed to advance any
farther. There was a battle, and I can see Chasseurs and colonial
troops dashing on before us, through the din of battle, with their
bayonets, and that was the last we saw of them. We were told that the
Bavarian troops in front of them were giving ground. The noise of the
guns was terrible, and we dug trenches with bullets whistling around
us. Days went by; we were still waiting, and every evening after the
day's bombardment we saw a village in flames. They all flared up, one
after the other. Would the village we were holding be spared?
No, its turn soon came; and a shell fell on the hospital, and several
of our wounded were killed, and then the church!... I can see the
ornaments of the altar scattered in the road, and the windows as full
of holes as a spider's web, and above it all the torn and riddled
carcase of the belfry. All the time the unceasing thunder of the guns
made one dizzy. We were told we were near a place the Germans wanted
to take, which we were to defend at all costs. The Chasseurs had been
fighting like mad for two days, and we were sent at night to relieve
them. We crawled to their position, and crept into their trenches,
which were covered with branches. Later we were told that the Kaiser
was there watching us and awaiting a triumphal entry into Nancy.