THE MARCH TO THE TRENCHES
_February 23._ At last! I have just been admitted to the sacred ranks of
the _poilu_; I have just had a magnificent baptism of fire, and really
the Boches have done me honor. But since this journal is to be a
faithful record of my campaign, I must go back a little, and follow in
order the events of the last few days.
Three days ago, then, we came to the trenches. Orders arrived in the
morning. The captain called us together and showed us our respective
positions on a map of our line of defenses. Our section extended to the
east of the Perthes-Hurlus line facing the north. Then after we section
commanders had received final instructions, the company assembled and
the captain made a short speech. Most of us were youngsters who had not
yet been under fire, or else men who were wounded at the beginning of
the war. “Our introduction to the first-line trenches would not give us
a very complete notion of what war is really like. Our trench will be
clean and well built, we shall not have to attack, and the Germans will
certainly have the good taste not to bother us too much.” It remains to
be seen whether these predictions were destined to be fulfilled by the
events that followed.
We were to start at 5 P.M. Troops are always relieved and moved at night
in order to escape being seen by the enemy and avoid inopportune
bombardments. The day was spent in preparations. All the men took baths;
then stocked up their haversacks and filled their canteens. They bought
great quantities of canned goods; also chocolate, condensed milk, and
cigarettes. Any superfluous articles were taken out of the knapsacks and
left in one of the rooms of the encampment. As the cold was sharp,
mufflers were given out, and warm helmets, knitted by the devoted hands
of the women of France or of America. The men then rigged themselves out
after the true _poilu_ fashion—greatcoats with the flaps let down,
double leggings, cartridge boxes full to bursting, canteens and
haversacks bulging at their hips, and above them the fringe of a long
muffler ready to be wrapped three times around their necks and over
mouths from which protruded the ever-present pipe. Last of all, the
stick, fantastically carved, to aid in walking through the mud.
We ate early. At four o’clock I called the roll and made sure that
everything was complete—food, tools, equipment—and that the guns were
clean. I gave parting instructions to the cooks who were to remain at
the hillock of Hurlus. Everything was in good shape. The company
assembled on the road. There was a general roll-call. Beside us, the
three other companies of the battalion were occupied in the same way. At
a whistle from the major the companies began to move.
While we were going through the village we kept at attention and
shouldered arms, but as soon as we got by the cemetery the command was
given, “Route step! March!”—and then began our climb toward the enemy.
The road was appalling. It was broken up by endless convoys and covered
with an abominable, sticky mud which made every step an effort, besides
being very slippery. We envied the sappers of the engineering corps who,
with their barbed wire and heavy tools, were sent to the front in the
little Decauville railroad that runs along beside the road, and is used
for carrying provisions and wounded.
We marched a long time. At the end of the first hour we made the
regulation halt, on the edge of a little wood, where there was a very
pretty view of the plain, dotted here and there with ruined villages.
Suddenly a terrific report right beside us gave us a disagreeable start.
The captain told me it was a piece of heavy artillery twenty metres
away. I looked, but could see nothing. What is more, not once during our
whole march did I succeed in making out a single piece of artillery.
Inasmuch as those who pass right beside our guns cannot see them, all
the more reason to hope that enemy aviators will not be able to ferret
them out!
But if the big guns were not visible, it was easy enough to see the
gunners, or at least such of them as were not busy with their pieces.
They sat smoking their pipes at their front doors, for these gentlemen,
mind you, have houses. Nicely hidden under the trees are mud huts, all
covered with sod and branches. They look like the giant ant-hills
depicted in natural history books, or the habitations of a Hottentot
village. Stairs lead down, seemingly deep into the earth, and a peep
inside that I managed to get as I passed, convinced me that this
primitive form of architecture shelters a comfortable and modern
interior.
We kept on marching, ever and always in the mud that plastered our shoes
and flecked the bottoms of our coats with a border of gray spots that
made them look like altar cloths adorned with precious embroidery. Above
our heads shrieked our shells, outstripping us on our way to the Boches;
and very near at hand our cannon thundered. This seemed to displease our
friends the Teutons, for suddenly a great humming, as of a monster
insect, grew louder and louder and came straight toward us, making
everybody duck, before it finally burst two hundred metres farther on.
The first impression is not at all pleasant. The conviction is crystal
clear that this snarling mass is headed straight upon you, and there
flash through your mind all the tales of horrible wounds you have ever
read or heard of—men blown to bits or disembowelled or what not—none of
them things one is anxious to experience at first hand. Another, then
another shell whistles by. Every head bobs down, while we all try in
vain to hide our qualms under a smile; our nerves are not yet hardened
to the fray. “Column of files!” commands the captain, and the column
marching four abreast melts into four long lines, very far apart,
advancing without speaking. A few harmless shells still went by, but
just as the French seemed to be getting angry, and the detonations
barked louder and louder, the Germans decided that the joke was stale,
and nothing more came to make our hearts beat pitapat. However, we kept
on ducking every time a shell came too near,—whether French or German it
made no difference,—and we began to laugh every time we got a scare for
nothing.
We climbed over a whole series of trenches, four or five lines, one
behind the other, perfectly constructed, ready to be used in case it is
necessary to fall back. The men in command are taking no chances.
After a fresh halt, the battalion formed once more by sections, four
abreast, and stacked arms. We had reached the kitchens, hidden in a
little ravine, and buried deep underground. Pots and pans came out of
their places and were handed to the cooks. Then bread was given out, and
preserves and wine. We were not to have coffee until morning in the
trenches.
We set out again about 9 P.M. One more hill to climb and we should be in
the communication trenches.
The battalion had been broken up and two companies only were to follow
this sector, the two others going more to the east. Suddenly, down a
slight incline we slid into the communication trench one by one and
began to march between two walls of earth where we were entirely
sheltered; it was hard to believe that we had arrived near the enemy.
The night was dark and silent; no noise of cannon, only a few stray
bullets that went over our heads with a sound like the swish of silk. A
fine rain began to fall. After a march of about five hundred metres, the
command to halt was given. We were at our destination. “The commander of
the second section,” said a voice in the darkness. I stepped forward. It
was the guide attached to the troops we were about to relieve who was to
conduct me to my position. I received from my predecessor instructions
with regard to the sector: two half-sections in separate salients, two
listening-patrols, the enemy one hundred and fifty metres away, sector
quiet, no casualties during the days he had spent there. But the Germans
are continually on the watch, and we must be careful not to show our
heads above the edge.
When I had gained this information I asked the sergeant who was with me
to go bring up the men. As my section came up on the right, the men we
were replacing filed by on the left. Soon I was sole master of the
field. One squad was quickly detailed for guard duty; double
listening-patrols, relieved every hour, posted in shell holes in front
of the trenches in the midst of the wire entanglement.
The night was very quiet, but I did not attempt to sleep. Besides, no
one had any great desire to sleep without knowing the place a little
better, and then the nearness of the silent enemy is a bit
awe-inspiring. Just before dawn it is necessary to be doubly vigilant,
for that is the critical moment; many surprise attacks, it seems, take
place then. At four in the morning a messenger came from the captain to
ask for a report of the events of the night. I was obliged to answer
that nothing had happened.
Coffee arrived shortly, comforting and a little warm even yet. Then the
day broke, cold, gray, and foggy. At last I was able to look around me.