The French, always so quick to give things names--and so liberal about
it that, to the embarrassment and undoing of the unhappy foreigner, they
sometimes invent fifty names for one thing--have added so many words to
the vocabulary since August 1914 that a glossary, and perhaps more than
one, has been published to enshrine them. Without the assistance of this
glossary it is almost impossible to understand some of the numerous
novels of Poilu life.
By no means the least important of these creations is the infinitesimal
word "as"--or rather, it is a case of adaptation. Yesterday "as des
carreaux" (to give the full form) stood simply for ace of diamonds.
To-day all France, with that swift assimilation which has ever been one
of its many mysteries, knows its new meaning and applies it. And what is
this new meaning?
Well "as" has two. Originally it was applied strictly to flying men, and
it was reserved to signify an aviator who had brought down his fifth
enemy machine. Had he brought down only four he was a gallant fellow
enough, but he was not an "as." One more and he was an ace of diamonds,
that card being the fifth honour in most French games as well as in
Bridge.
So much for the first and exact meaning of the term. But later, as I
gather from a number of _La Baïonnette_ devoted to its uses, the word
has been extended to cover all kinds of obscure heroes, the men, and
they are by no means rare, who do wonderful things but do not get into
the papers or receive medals or any mention in dispatches. We all know
that many of the finest deeds performed in war escape recognition. One
does not want to suggest that V.C.'s and D.S.O.'s and Military Crosses
and all the other desirable tokens of valour are conferred wrongly.
Nothing of the kind. They are nobly deserved. But probably there never
was a recipient of the V.C. or the D.S.O. or the Military Cross who
could not--and did not wish to--tell his Sovereign, when the coveted
honour was being pinned to his breast, of some other soldier not less
worthy than himself of being decorated, whose deed of gallantry was
performed under less noticeable conditions. The performer of such a deed
is an "as" and it is his luck to be a not public hero.
The "as" can be found in every branch of the army, and he is recognized
as one by his comrades, even although the world at large is ignorant.
Perhaps we shall find a word for his British correlative, who must be
numerically very strong too. The letter A alone might do it, signifying
anonymous. "Voilà, un as!" says the French soldier, indicating one of
these brave modest fellows who chances to be passing. "You see that
chap," one of our soldiers would say; "he's an A."
That satirical child of the war, _La Baïonnette_ every week devotes
itself, as its forerunner, _L'Assiette an Beurre_, used to do, to one
theme at a time, one phase or facet of the struggle, usually in the
army, but also in civil life, where changes due to the war steadily
occur. In the number dedicated to the glory of the "as" I find recorded
an incident of the French Army so moving that I want to tell it here,
very freely, in English. It was, says the writer, before the attack at
Carency--and he vouches for the accuracy of his report, for he was
himself present. In the little village of Camblain-l'Abbé a regiment was
assembled, and to them spoke their captain. The scene was the yard of a
farm. I know so well what it was like. The great manure heap in the
middle; the carts under cover, with perhaps one or two American reapers
and binders among them; fowls pecking here and there; a thin predatory
dog nosing about; a cart-horse peering from his stable and now and then
scraping his hoofs; a very wide woman at the dwelling-house door; the
old farmer in blue linen looking on; and there, drawn up, listening to
their captain, row on row of blue-coated men, all hard-bitten, weary,
all rather cynical, all weather-stained and frayed, and all ready to go
on for ever.
This is what the captain said--a tall thin man of about thirty, speaking
calmly and naturally as though he was reading a book. "I have just seen
the Colonel," he said; "he has been in conference with the Commandant,
and this is what has been settled. In a day or two it is up to us to
attack. You know the place and what it all means. At such and such an
hour we shall begin. Very well. Now this is what will happen. I shall be
the first to leave the trench and go over the top, and I shall be killed
at once. So far so good. I have arranged with the two lieutenants for
the elder of them to take my place. He also will almost certainly be
killed. Then the younger will lead, and after him the sergeants in turn,
according to their age, beginning with the oldest who was with me at
Saïda before the war. What will be left by the time you have reached the
point I cannot say, but you must be prepared for trouble, as there is a
lot of ground to cover, under fire. But you will take the point and hold
it. Fall out."