I had already been two days at the ambulance when, at half-past five on
the morning of the third day, the réveillé sounded and we were informed
that we were to leave for Alsace. Preparations were made immediately,
and at seven o'clock we set off. The cavalry marched away first; then
the infantry, whilst we others formed the rearguard. The Red Cross
section including myself, were in the lead, followed by the ambulances
and motor-buses containing the ladies of the Red Cross and the doctors.
We set foot on the annexed soil of Alsace at nine o'clock. What a sight
it was to see the frontier posts overthrown and the Alsatians cheering
our troops! Our soldiers had already passed that way, for tricolor
flags were to be seen everywhere. The sight touched our men and filled
their hearts with courage.
We camped in a village, and it was not until five o'clock in the
evening that we set off again. After marching for twelve kilometres, we
began to hear the cannon, from which we concluded that our comrades
could not be far distant. I have forgotten to say that we were not in
the first line, but on our way to join our comrades, who were in need
of reinforcements. At nine o'clock we camped, sleeping in a cornfield.
No sooner had I stretched myself out on a favorable spot than I fell
asleep, not to awaken until dawn, when several detonations aroused me.
I found that we were only eight kilometres away from the Germans. So,
at last, we were to see the Boches--to fire upon them and to bring them
down!
When we reached the second village the enemy were not far away. They
had already bombarded several farms, but our "75's" had opened fire
and succeeded in silencing the German guns. All this was splendid, but
sad. Moreover, we had not yet seen one of the enemy. Still marching
forward, we came up with our comrades. The ambulance was installed in
the neighboring village, three kilometres distant from where the battle
was being waged. Campbeds having been set up at the Mairie and in the
school, the Red Cross men proceeded to the scene of the fight, and some
of them ventured forth, under the shower of bullets and shells, to
bring in the wounded.
We still kept a sharp lookout for the Boches, but they were well
concealed and invisible. Suddenly, everybody cried, "There they are!"
and we beheld a green, grass-colored mass, about seven hundred yards to
our left, issue forth from cover. They were received on all sides with
volleys from our infantry. The duel lasted for about half an hour; then
the enemy broke into flight and our soldiers went in pursuit.
From that time we began to pick up the wounded. It was terrible work.
There were dead men, lying face downwards, some of them half-buried by
shells. Other poor fellows lay with shattered arms and legs shot off.
It took two hours to bring in our wounded. We carried them to the
motor-buses and the ambulances, which transported them to the village,
where they received first aid. After that we advanced to the spot where
we had first seen the Germans, for in their retreat they had abandoned
their wounded. There the sight was no less sickening. The number
of wounded was about the same as on our side, but the dead greatly
outnumbered ours. By the time we had carried in all the wounded it was
about five o'clock and we had had nothing to eat since the morning,
for circumstances had not permitted us to return to the village. Four
in our section of Red Cross men were missing; two had been killed by
stray bullets and two others were slightly wounded. We did not reach
the village until six o'clock. The soup was got ready, and we ate with
a good appetite. The revictualling department was very well managed;
we ate fresh meat. Having taken our fill, we stretched ourselves out
in the buildings requisitioned by our troops, and a quarter of an hour
later were fast asleep.
We were awakened at four o'clock in the morning to join the regiment
and collect the soldiers who had been wounded since the previous
evening. Leaving the ambulance in the village, we set off at half-past
five and at about six reached the scene of the fight of the day before.
We then followed in the footsteps of our troops, in the direction taken
by the retreating Germans. It was easy to distinguish the road, for
it was littered with dead and wounded. Here and there, too, were dead
horses, with their legs sticking straight up in the air. The first
wounded we met with were about fifteen hundred yards from the scene
of the battle. Doubtless the Germans had stopped and a second fight
had taken place, but, judging by the small number of dead and wounded,
it could not have lasted long. However, those few must have suffered
terribly. The poor fellows had been lying there for fifteen to sixteen
hours without assistance, and several of them were unconscious through
loss of blood.
Our soldiers had advanced six kilometres, and we came up with them
about eight o'clock. They were camped in a wheat-field, not far
from a fairly important village to which the Germans had retreated
and which they were busy fortifying. Our cavalry discovered this
on a reconnaissance, during which our brave _piou-pious_ fortified
themselves--first of all their stomachs, and then the ground.
On seeing this camp in the open country, I likened it to a cinema scene
representing American cow-boys. At one spot was a group of men, sitting
on the ground, resting, joking, and smoking. Near them were their piled
arms, with knapsacks all around. Here and there were officers walking
up and down. The horses were in a corner, cropping the beautiful green
grass of Alsace.
In the midst of this peaceful scene there was heard a humming noise,
followed by a few rifle-shots. An aeroplane appeared, evidently sent
by the enemy to discover our positions. After having dropped seven or
eight bombs, which missed their mark, it wheeled round and disappeared.
Whilst the soldiers were encamped their chiefs had telephoned to the
ambulance to join us as soon as all the wounded had been sent to the
rear.