The thrilling adventures of Mme. Simone Puget, noted Frenchwoman,
who, under disguises as a Belgian peasant and British "Tommy,"
undertook reaching her husband in the trenches at the grave risk
of losing both their lives. While they were still together his
regiment was despatched to the dreaded "first line" and ten days
later she was notified of his death under fire.
There arrived in New York from Europe a young Frenchwoman, Mme. Simone
A. Puget, dressed in deep mourning. Watching her as she stepped ashore,
a stranger scarcely could picture her as she actually was, not many
months ago, wearing the uniform of an English soldier and risking her
life in that vague, blood-soaked and shattered inferno of trenches,
craters and barbed-wire called "somewhere in France," to reach her
husband before he died.
Even before that Mme. Puget had achieved fame as the daring Frenchwoman
who accompanied her husband, M. Andre Puget, the playwright and
novelist, through the Orient disguised as his brother, and as the
brilliant tennis player who captured the woman's championship for
her country four years ago. Mme. Puget also is the author of "Les
Etrangères," and other novels.
"There is so little to tell," she said quietly ... as she folded
her hands on her simple black dress. "We were in Paris when war was
declared and my husband was called to the front.
"I volunteered as an ambulance driver and worked almost day and night
for four months carrying wounded from a field hospital to the big
emergency hospitals in Paris.
"Then I heard that Andre had been wounded and sent to Moulins. I went
to him immediately and stayed to nurse him until he was able to rejoin
his regiment.
"After my return to Paris I received another message, this time from a
little village close to the Belgian frontier, but across the border in
Belgium. It did not say in so many words that Andre had been wounded
again, but merely gave me the impression that he wanted to see me once
more and that I was to try to reach him.
"I quickly realized the difficulties and dangers of such a journey.
Only a short time before the military authorities had made it a law
that any soldier whose wife was found in forbidden territory would be
shot. But Andre and I had been through many dangers together and he
knew that he could trust me. I prepared to start at once. Armed with
my letter, which simply asked me to come without delay to the bedside
of my dying grandfather, I left Paris for Belgium attired as a Belgian
peasant girl.
"Outside Paris I was stopped. The military guards absolutely refused to
let me proceed.
"'We see too many letters like yours,' was the only explanation offered.
"In vain did I plead and weep. Then when I had almost given up in
despair, I spied an English officer whom Andre and I had met in India.
I told him who I was and he recalled me at once, despite my peasant
garb. I asked him to help me to reach my husband. He said it was
impossible.
"But I was desperate and when I wept and quietly implored his aid, he
said he would help me if he could. That was the last time I saw him,
but after my return to the little hotel where I had spent the night I
received a parcel containing a soldier's uniform together with some
instructions.
"I always felt very much at home dressed as a man, for I travelled all
through Persia and other parts of the Orient as my husband's brother.
"An artillery train with much baggage was about to move forward and I
could go with that provided I didn't object to riding in a forage wagon
for six hours. My peasant costume I was to take with me wrapped in a
bundle. Once through the rear lines in Belgian territory I was to look
out for myself.
"We started. I rode for hours and hours, expecting at every halt to be
detected and questioned. But fortune smiled on me and that night after
we were well across the border of Belgium I slipped down and walked
forward unchallenged. The place fairly swarmed with soldiers, Belgian,
French and British. Near a farm house I changed back to my simple
Belgian peasant garb and prepared to resume my journey on foot as soon
as it became daylight.
"Fortunately I had not many miles to reach the farm to which the letter
had directed me. Walking all day I reached the farm that night and
there I learned to my great joy that my husband was safe. He had not
been wounded, but his regiment was under orders to leave within a day
or so for another part of the front where severe fighting was expected
and he wanted to see me once more, if possible, before he left. I saw
him next day. He came to the farm. Then on the morrow he marched away
with his regiment toward Arras, and ten days later he was killed."
Mme. Andre found that it was easier to get out of the war zone than
into it and she had little difficulty in returning to Paris. There
she began to raise funds for Red Cross work and to gather material
for future reference about the men-of-letters of America, France and
England who have given up their lives in the great war.