Two hundred yards from us, in the deepening twilight, appeared a
row of dark silhouettes, which vanished again. We looked at them
in utter astonishment. The machine-gun had ceased firing. Then the
black silhouettes appeared and vanished again. There was no possible
doubt: it was the Boches. What was to be done? We were only a party
of wounded, guarded by two unarmed men, and a dead horse. We waited
for the final volley to make an end of us. Then a Chasseur, with his
knees broken, had an inspiration. With a finger dipped in blood from
his wounds, he traced a red cross on a handkerchief, tied it to the
end of a bayonet, and waved it. We thought we were safe under this
emblem, but we got a volley which went clean through our party, hitting
no one. A sergeant pulled a rosary from his pocket and began to pray:
"Let us commend our souls to God." Then the dark figures drew closer,
and we could see the shape of their helmets. They were a hundred yards,
then fifty, then twenty yards from us, and we could hear them speaking
German. At ten yards distance three shadows came forward from the
group, covering us with their rifles. One of them called out: "_Auf!_"
I got up, and clapping my armlet, answered: "_Rothe Kreutz!_" They
surrounded us and ordered us to abandon our equipment and our knapsacks
and march. So, slowly and painfully, the slightly wounded carrying or
supporting the others, we entered the enemy's lines. We were prisoners
of war.
* * * * *
I can see the farm full of German soldiers busy emptying the cellar and
drinking in silence. The barn was full of wounded men. We joined them,
and a captain who spoke French ordered our money to be returned to us.
All night long my comrade and I were busy attending to the wounded,
both French and German, who were lying in a confused heap on the straw.
We were allowed to keep our instruments, and we used the men's first
aid dressings.
At daybreak carriages and a section of German ambulance men arrived.
Our wounded were removed, and I and the orderly, the only two
unwounded, were marched off between a corporal and soldiers with fixed
bayonets. We did not know where we were being taken.
It was a sinister march as we four went silently on past houses either
empty, or ruined, or mere smoking shells, where here and there a
shrinking figure of a woman or child showed itself. And then the dead
lying on the road, _our_ dead! _Their_ dead had already been removed.
On all the doors were notices of billets written in chalk. Their
soldiers were taking their ease, and going and coming in silence, or
lounging in their grey uniforms in armchairs looted from the houses
near by. We passed inns and grocers' shops which had been pillaged, and
a cow lay dead in a field.
Our first halt was in the guard-room where we were taken. It was in
a lawyer's office. The men greeted us without any apparent antipathy
and gave us some of their food, but kept the wine they had stolen from
the owner for themselves. The man in charge was fairly well educated.
He talked to me about Munich, and showed me photographs of pictures
a friend of his had painted and also some vile picture postcards on
which we Frenchmen were coarsely caricatured. He had a kindly smile,
and really did not seem to see that he was offensive. Then came our
examination. A staff officer entered and questioned us in perfect
French about the position of our artillery, our fortifications, and
the English army. We replied that we were in the medical service and
knew nothing about these things. The officer did not press us, and
merely said: "This war will be a long one, for after taking Paris we
shall have to crush the Russians. But it will all be over in July."