Her needle blurred, and her thread knotted, and the patches seemed more
difficult than ever, and all because she had told herself that
presently she must take a little boy up in her lap and shatter his
dearest hope with truth. She had made up her mind that, when he came
from school that morning, she would have to tell him. Therefore she sat
and sewed, her whole being tense for the sound of his footsteps. She
knew just how he would come--with a sudden scamper up the steps outside.
He always ran as soon as his fingers were sure of the rail, because much
of his time he was an engine, 'An’ vats ve way twains come up steps.'
Then he would whisk around the corner, fumble an instant for the
door-handle, and burst in upon her.
But after all, none of these sounds came. Instead, there was suddenly
the trampling of grown-up feet, the rush of skirts, and Miss Cynthia
threw the door open.
'Oh, come--come quick!' she panted. 'Stanny is hurt--He ran away--Oh, I
_told_ him to come straight to you! But he ran away down the road, and a
motor--'
Together they sped down the long corridors to the hospital. They had
brought Stanny there and laid him on one of the very clean little beds.
Such a tiny crushed morsel of humanity in the centre of the big bare
room! But his hand moved and he found Miss Lyman’s chatelaine as she
bent over him.
'I knowed you was comin' by ve tinkly fings,' he whispered. Then--'I was
dest playin' it was my birfday an’ I could see.--Gwey said to.--Is
you--is you goin' to punish me vis time?' he quavered.
'No, lovey, no--not this time,' she faltered, for she had caught the
look on the doctor’s face.
'Gwey said he al’us dest barked an’ barked at aut’mobiles.--Let me hold
ve tinkly fings so’s I will know you is vere.' And by and by he
murmured, 'It’ll be my birfday soon--_weal_ soon now, won’t it?'
'Very, very soon now,' she answered, and clinched her hand tight to keep
her voice steady.
'Why,' he said, his restless fingers chancing upon her clinched ones,
'why, you is still got my kiss all tight in you hand. I’d fink it would
be all melted by now.' A little startled moan cut him short. 'I hurts!'
he cried. 'Oh, I _hurts_!'
'Yes,' she answered breathlessly, 'yes, my darling, it will hurt a
little.'
'Is it--is it 'cause my eyes is openin'?' he gasped.
'Yes, lovey, that’s the reason.' Her hand held his tight. 'But it won’t
hurt long.'
'Gwey never--never said it would hurt like vis,' he sobbed.
The doctor stooped down and made a tiny prick in the baby arm, and after
a little Stanislaus lay still.
'He may be conscious again before the end,' the doctor said, 'but I
hardly think it is likely.'
He was not. He tossed a little, and murmured broken snatches of words,
but he was too busy going along this new exciting path to turn back to
the old ways, even to speak to his friends.
Miss Lyman sat beside him all through the bright afternoon, through the
tender dusk, and through the dark. Late in the night, he stirred, and
cried out with a little happy breath,--
'My _birfday_! It’s _come_!'
And by the time it was morning he had gone.
Miss Lyman closed the eyes that had opened so wide upon another world,
drew up all the curtains, that the room might be flooded with the
dancing light of his birthday morning, said a little prayer, committing
him to his angel, and stole softly away.
A SOLDIER OF THE LEGION
BY E. MORLAE
IT was almost daylight, and things were visible at two to three metres.
The bombardment had died down, and the quiet was hardly disturbed by
occasional shots. Our captain marched ahead of the second section,
swinging a cane and contentedly puffing on his pipe. Nearly everybody
was smoking. As we marched along we noticed that new trenches had been
dug during the night from sixty to a hundred metres in rear of the
position we had held, and were filled by the Twenty-ninth Chasseur
Regiment, which replaced us.
Very cunningly these trenches were arranged. They were deep and narrow,
fully seven feet deep and barely a yard wide. At every favorable point,
on every little rise in the ground, a salient had been constructed,
projecting out from the main trench ten to fifteen metres, protected by
heavy logs, corrugated steel sheets, and two to three feet of dirt. Each
side of the salients bristled with machine-guns. Any attack upon this
position would be bound to fail, owing to the intense volume of fire
that could be brought to bear upon the flanks of the enemy.
To make assurance doubly sure, the Engineer Corps had dug rows of
cup-shaped bowls, two feet in diameter, two feet deep, leaving but a
narrow wedge of dirt between each two; and in the centre of each bowl
was placed a six-pointed twisted steel 'porcupine.' This instrument,
however it is placed, always presents a sharp point right at you. Five
rows of these man-traps I counted, separated by a thin wall of dirt not
strong enough to maintain the weight of a man, so that any one who
attempted to rush past would be thrown against the 'porcupine' and be
spitted like a pigeon. As an additional precaution a mass of barbed wire
lay in rolls, ready to be placed in front of this ouvrage, to make it
safe against any surprise.
We marched along, talking and chatting, discussing this and that,
without a care in the world. Every one hoped we were going to the rear
to recuperate and enjoy a good square meal and a good night’s rest.
Seeger[A] wanted a good wash, he said. He was rather dirty, and so was
I. My puttees dangled in pieces round my calves. It seems I had torn
them going through the German wire the day before. I told Haeffle to
keep his eyes open for a good pair on some dead man. He said he would.
[A] Alan Seeger, the poet, who was later killed in battle.
The company marched round the hill we descended so swiftly yesterday
and, describing a semi-circle, entered again the _Schützengraben
Spandau_ and marched back in the direction we had come from. The trench,
however, presented a different appearance. The bad places had been
repaired, the loose dirt had been shoveled out, and the dead had
disappeared. On the east side of the trench an extremely high parapet
had been built. This parapet was complete even to loop-holes--rather
funny-looking loop-holes, I thought; and when I looked closer, I saw
that they were framed in by boots! I reached my hand into several of
them as we walked along, and touched the limbs of dead men. The
engineers, it seems, in need of material, had placed the dead Germans on
top of the ground, feet flush with the inside of the ditch, leaving from
six to seven inches between two bodies, and laying another body
cross-wise on top of the two, spanning the gap between them. Then they
had shoveled the dirt on top of them, thus killing two birds with one
stone.
The discovery created a riot of excitement among the men. Curses
intermingled with laughter came from ahead of us. Everybody was tickled
by the ingenuity of our génie. 'They are marvelous!' we thought. Dowd’s
face showed consternation, yet he could not help smiling. Little King
was pale around the mouth, yet his lips were twisted in a grin. It was
horribly amusing.
Every 200 metres we passed groups of the One Hundred and Seventieth, on
duty in the trench. The front line, they told us, was twelve hundred
metres farther east, and this trench formed the second line for their
regiment. We entered the third-line trench of the Germans, from which
they ran yesterday to surrender, and continued marching in the same
direction--always east. Here we had a chance to investigate the
erstwhile German habitations.
Exactly forty paces apart, doorways opened into the dirt bank, and from
each of them fourteen steps descended at about forty-five degrees into a
cellar-like room. The stairs were built of wood and the sides of the
stairways and the chambers below were lined with one-inch pine boards.
These domiciles must have been quite comfortable and safe, but now they
were choked with bodies. As we continued our leisurely way, we met some
of our trench-cleaners, and they recited their experiences with gusto.
The Germans, they told us, pointing down into the charnel-houses,
refused to come and give up, and even fired at them when summoned to
surrender. 'Then what did you do?' I asked. 'Very simple,' answered one.
'We stood on the top of the ground right above the door and hurled
grenade after grenade through the doorway until all noise gradually
ceased down below. Then we went to the next hole and did the same thing.
It wasn’t at all dangerous,' he added, 'and it was very effective.'
We moved but slowly along the trench, and every once in a while there
was a halt while some of the men investigated promising 'prospects'
where the holes packed with dead Germans held out some promise of loot.
Owing to the order of march, the first company was the last one in line,
and my section at the very end. The head of the column was the fourth
company, then the third, then the second, and then we. By the time my
section came to any hole holding out hopes of souvenirs, there was
nothing left for us. Yet I did find a German officer with a new pair of
puttees, and, hastily unwinding them, I discarded my own and put on the
new ones. As I bound them on I noticed the name on the tag--'Hindenburg.'
I suppose that name stands for quality with the Boches.
We left the trench and swung into another communication trench, going to
the left, still in an easterly direction, straight on toward the Butte
de Souain. That point, we knew, was still in the hands of the Germans,
and very quickly they welcomed us. Shells came shrieking down--105mm.,
150, 210, and 250. It’s very easy to tell when you are close to them,
even if you can’t see a thing. When a big shell passes high, it sounds
like a white-hot piece of iron suddenly doused in cold water; but when
it gets close, the sw-i-ish suddenly rises in a high crescendo, a shriek
punctuated by a horrible roar. The uniformity of movement as the men
ducked was beautiful--and they all did it! One moment there was a line
of gray helmets bobbing up and down the trenches as the line plodded on;
and the next instant one could see only a line of black canvas close to
the ground, as every man ducked and shifted his shoulder-sack over his
neck. My sack had been blown to pieces when I was buried, and I felt
uncomfortably handicapped, with only my _musette_ for protection against
steel splinters.
About a mile from where we entered this boyau we came to a temporary
halt, then went on once more. The fourth company had come to a halt,
and we squeezed past them as we marched along. Every man of them had his
shovel out and had commenced digging a niche for himself. We passed the
fourth company, then the third, then the second, and finally the first,
second, and third sections of our own company. Just beyond, we ourselves
came to a halt and, lining up one man to the metre, started to organize
the trench for defensive purposes. From the other side of a slight
ridge, east of us and about six hundred metres away, came the sound of
machine-guns. Between us and the ridge the Germans were executing a very
lively _feu de barrage_, a screen of fire prohibiting any idea of
sending reinforcements over to the front line.
Attached for rations to my section were the major of the battalion, a
captain, and three sergeants of the état-major. Two of the sergeants
were at the trench telephone, and I could hear them report the news to
the officers. 'The Germans' they reported, 'are penned in on three sides
and are prevented from retreating by our artillery.' Twice they had
attempted to pierce our line between them and the Butte de Souain, and
twice they were driven back. Good news for us!
At 10 A.M. we sent three men from each section to the rear for the soup.
At about eleven they reappeared with steaming _marmites_ of soup, stew,
coffee, and buckets of wine. The food was very good, and disappeared to
the last morsel.
After eating, the captains granted me permission to walk along the ditch
back to the fourth company. The trench being too crowded for comfort, I
walked alongside to the second company, and searched for my friend,
Sergeant Velte. Finally I found him lying in a shell-hole, side by side
with his adjutant and Sergeant Morin. All three were dead, torn to
pieces by one shell shortly after we had passed them in the morning. At
the third company they reported that Second Lieutenant Sweeny had been
shot through the chest by a lost ball that morning. Hard luck for
Sweeny! The poor devil had just been nominated _sous-lieutenant_ at the
request of the French Embassy in Washington; and when he was attached as
supernumerary to the third company we all had hopes that he would have a
chance to prove his merit.
In the fourth company also the losses were severe. The part of the
trench occupied by the three companies was directly enfiladed by the
German batteries on the Butte de Souain, and every little while a shell
would fall square into the ditch and take toll from the occupants. Our
company was fully a thousand metres nearer to these batteries, but the
trenches we occupied presented a three-quarter face to the fire, and
consequently were ever so much harder to hit. Even then, when I got back
I found four men _hors de combat_ in the fourth section. In my section
two niches were demolished without any one being hit.
Time dragged slowly until four in the afternoon, when we had soup again.
Many of the men built little fires, and with the _Erbsenwurst_ they had
found on dead Germans prepared a very palatable soup by way of extra
rations.
At four o’clock sentries were posted and everybody fell asleep. A steady
rain was falling, and to keep dry we hooked one edge of our tent-sheet
on the ground above the niche and put dirt on top of it to hold. Then we
pushed cartridges through the buttonholes of the tent, pinning them into
the side of the trench, and forming a good cover for the occupant of the
hole. Thus we rested until the new day broke, bringing a clear sky and
sunshine. This day, the 27th,--the third of the battle,--passed without
mishap to my section. We spent our time eating and sleeping, mildly
distracted by an intermittent bombardment.
Another night spent in the same cramped quarters! We were getting weary
of inactivity, and it was rather hard work to keep the men in the ditch.
They sneaked off singly and in pairs, always heading back to the German
dug-outs, all bent on turning things upside down in the hope of finding
something of value to carry as a keepsake.
Haeffle came back once with three automatic pistols, but no cartridges;
from another trip he returned with an officer’s helmet; and the third
time he brought triumphantly back a string three feet long of dried
sausages. Haeffle always did have a healthy appetite, and it transpired
that on the way back he had eaten a dozen sausages, more or less. The
dried meat had made him thirsty and he had drunk half a canteen of water
on top of it. The result was, he swelled up like a poisoned pup, and for
a time he was surely a sick man.
Zinn found two shiny German bayonets, a long thin one, and one short and
heavy, and swore he would pack them for a year if he had to. Zinn hailed
from Battle Creek and wanted to use them as brush-knives on camping
trips in the Michigan woods; but alas, in the sequel they got too heavy
and were dropped along the road. One man found a German pipe with a
three-foot soft-rubber stem, which he intended sending to his brother as
a souvenir. Man and pipe are buried on the slopes of the Butte de
Souain. He died that same evening.
At the usual time--4 P.M.--we had soup, and just after that, came the
order to get ready. Looking over the trench, we watched the fourth
company form in the open back of the ditch and, marching past us in an
oblique direction, disappear round a spur of wooded hill. The third
company followed at four hundred metres distance, then the second; and
as they passed out of sight around the hill, we jumped out, and, forming
in line sections at thirty-metre intervals, each company four hundred
metres in the rear of the one ahead, we followed, _arme à la bretelle_.
We were quite unobserved by the enemy, and marched the length of the
hill for three fourths of a kilometre, keeping just below the crest.
Above us sailed four big French battle-planes and some small aero
scouts, on the lookout for enemy aircraft. For a while it seemed as if
we should not be discovered, and the command was given to lie down. From
where we lay we could observe clearly the ensuing scrap in the air, and
it was worth watching. Several German planes had approached close to our
lines, but were discovered by the swift-flying scouts. Immediately the
little fellows returned with the news to the big planes, and we watched
the monster biplanes mount to the combat. In a wide circle they swung,
climbing, climbing higher and higher, and then headed in a bee-line
straight toward the German _Tauben_. As they approached within range of
each other, we saw little clouds appear close to the German planes, some
in front, some over them, and others behind; and then, after an
interval, the report of the 32mm. guns mounted on our battle-planes
floated down to us, immediately followed like an echo by the crack of
the bursting shell. Long before the Germans could get within effective
range for their machine-guns, they were peppered by our planes and
ignominiously forced to beat a retreat. One Albatross seemed to be hit.
He staggered from one side to the other, then dipped forward, and,
standing straight on his nose, dropped like a stone out of sight behind
the forest crowning the hill.
Again we moved on, and shortly arrived at the southern spur of the hill.
Here the company made a quarter turn to the left, and in the same
formation began the ascent of the hill. The second company was just
disappearing into the scrubby pine forest on top. We entered also,
continued on to the top, and halted just below the crest. The captain
called the officers and sergeants, and, following him, we crawled on our
stomachs up to the highest point and looked over.
Never shall I forget the panorama that spread before us! The four thin
ranks of the second company seemed to stagger drunkenly through a sea of
green fire and smoke. One moment gaps showed in the lines, only to be
closed again as the rear files spurted. Undoubtedly they ran at top
speed, but to us watchers they seemed to crawl, and at times almost to
stop. Mixed in with the dark green of the grass covering the valley were
rows of lighter color, telling of the men who fell in that mad sprint.
The continuous bombardment sounded like a giant drum beating an
incredibly swift _rataplan_. Along the whole length of our hill this
curtain of shells was dropping, leveling the forest and seemingly
beating off the very face of the hill itself, clean down to the bottom
of the valley. Owing to the proximity of our troops to the enemy’s
batteries, we received hardly any support from our own big guns, and the
rôle of the combatants was entirely reversed. The Germans had their
innings then, and full well they worked.
As the company descended into the valley the pace became slower, and at
the beginning of the opposite slope they halted and faced back. Owing to
the height of the Butte de Souain, they were safe, and they considered
that it was their turn to act as spectators.
As our captain rose, we followed and took our places in front of our
sections. Again I impressed upon the minds of my men the importance of
following in a straight line and as close behind one another as
possible. '_Arme à la main_!' came the order, and slowly we moved to the
crest and then immediately broke into a dog-trot. Instantly we were
enveloped in flames and smoke. Hell kissed us welcome! Closely I
watched the captain for the sign to increase our speed. I could have run
a mile in record time, but he plugged steadily along, one, two, three,
four, one, two, three, four,--at a tempo of a hundred and eighty steps
per minute, three to the second,--the regulation tempo. Inwardly I
cursed his insistence upon having things _réglementaires_.
As I looked at the middle of his back, longing for him to hurry, I
caught sight, on my right, of a shell exploding directly in the centre
of the third section. Out of the tail of my eye I saw the upper part of
Corporal Keraudy’s body rise slowly into the air. The legs had
disappeared, and with arms outstretched the trunk sank down on the
corpse of Varma, the Hindu, who had marched behind him. Instinctively, I
almost stopped in my tracks: Keraudy was a friend of mine; but at the
instant Corporal Mettayer, running behind me, bumped into my back, and
shoved me again into life and action.
We were out of the woods then, and running down the bare slope of the
hill. A puff of smoke, red-hot, smote me in the face, and at the same
moment intense pain shot up my jaw. I did not think I was hit seriously,
since I was able to run all right. Some one in the second section
intoned the regimental march, '_Allons, giron_.' Others took it up; and
there, in that scene of death and hell, this song portraying the lusts
and vices of the _Légion Étrangère_ became a very pæan of enthusiasm and
courage.
Glancing to the right, I saw that we were getting too close to the
second section, so I gave the signal for a left oblique. We bore away
from them until once again at our thirty paces distance. All at once my
feet tangled up in something and I almost fell. It was long grass! Just
then it seemed to grow upon my mind that we were down in the valley and
out of range of the enemy. Then I glanced ahead, and not over a hundred
metres away I saw the second company lying in the grass and watching us
coming. As we neared, they shouted little pleasantries at us and
congratulated us upon our speed.
'Why this unseemly haste?' one wants to know.
'You go to the devil!' answers Haeffle.
'_Merci, mon ami_!' retorts the first; 'I have just come through his
back kitchen.'
Counting my section, I missed Dubois, St. Hilaire, and Schueli.
Collette, Joe told me, was left on the hill.
The company had lost two sergeants, one corporal, and thirteen men
coming down that short stretch! We mustered but forty-five men, all
told. One, Sergeant Terisien, had commanded my section, the 'American
Section,' for four months, but was transferred to the fourth. From where
we rested we could see him slowly descending the hill, bareheaded and
with his right hand clasping his left shoulder. He had been severely
wounded in the head, and his left arm was nearly torn off at the
shoulder. Poor devil! He was a good comrade and a good soldier. Just
before the war broke out he had finished his third enlistment in the
Legion, and was in line for a discharge and pension when he died.
Looking up the awful slope we had just descended, we could see the
bodies of our comrades, torn and mangled and again and again kicked up
into the air by the shells. For two days and nights the hellish hail
continued to beat upon that blood-soaked slope, until we finally
captured the Butte de Souain and forced an entire regiment of Saxons to
the left of the butte to capitulate.
Again we assembled in column of fours, and this time began the climb up
hill. Just then I happened to think of the blow I had received under the
jaw, and, feeling of the spot, discovered a slight wound under my left
jaw-bone. Handing my rifle to a man, I pressed slightly upon the sore
spot and pulled a steel splinter out of the wound. A very thin, long
sliver of steel it was, half the diameter of a dime and not more than a
dime’s thickness, but an inch and a half long. The metal was still hot
to the touch. The scratch continued bleeding freely, but I did not
bandage it at the time because I felt sure of needing my emergency
dressing farther along.
Up near the crest of the hill we halted in an angle of the woods and lay
down alongside the One Hundred and Seventy-Second Regiment of infantry.
They had made the attack in this direction on the 25th, but had been
severely checked at this point. Infantry and machine-gun fire sounded
very close, and lost bullets by the hundreds flicked through the
branches overhead. The One Hundred and Seventy-Second informed us that a
battalion of the _Premier Étranger_ had entered the forest and was at
that moment storming a position to our immediate left. Through the trees
showed lights, brighter than day, cast from hundreds of German magnesium
candles shot into the air.