Though I did my best to keep out of trouble, still I could not help
now and then breaking the regulations. Other soldiers broke them far
oftener than I, but I knew quite well that the sergeants and corporals
were all watching me in order to bring me up before the commandant on
some charge or other, and so curry favour with the dreaded adjutant.
Now it would not be fair to blame them for this, every sub-officer
naturally preferred that the simple soldier should get into trouble
rather than himself; and, moreover, the man who could get me punishment
was sure to be left alone by the tyrant of the battalion. I certainly
felt a bit sore about it at times, and Giulia, to whom I communicated
my suspicions, was very angry indeed.
The first serious affair in which I was involved, as a simple soldier,
occurred one evening in the hut where my squad lay. I was not a
prisoner at large at the time, and so had not to go to the guard-hut,
report myself for the night, and then take up my quarters in the cells
where the prisoners were kept under guard. As I sat on the edge of my
bed-cot, smoking and thinking, an Austrian came in, evidently under
the influence of drink. This man was as pleasant a companion as one
could wish for when sober, but when drunk--he was not often so, I must
confess--his disposition underwent a change; he became violent, abusive
and quarrelsome. The first person he laid eyes on when he passed the
door was myself, and towards me he accordingly staggered. I cannot
recall what he said first, but I know that I was angry and returned
a very sharp answer. He then began to curse and revile me, and I am
afraid that my language in reply was as "frequent and painful and free"
as his. The corporal of the squad came in as we were warming to our
work and saw how matters were going. He left the hut at once, and,
mean hound that he was, listened just outside the door. Very soon he
returned, and, ordering some other soldiers to arrest us, marched us
both to the guard hut, and left us there for the night in charge of
the sergeant of the guard. In the morning the Austrian, who had slept
off the effects of the drink, was very sorry. I told him that it was a
pity he had not fallen out with someone else, as I was certain to get a
heavy sentence.
"You know," I went on, "the corporal will put the affair in as bad a
light as possible for me, because by doing so he will have the adjutant
as his good friend; and, besides, I have been up before the commandant
so often of late and have been reduced in rank so much that he will
consider me a soldier of very bad character and will punish me as such.
In any case you are a soldier of the first class, and at most he can
only take away your chevron."
"That is true, my comrade; I am very sorry, that cursed brandy made a
fool of me."
"Well, it can't be helped now," I said; "I bear no malice."
"Thanks, my friend, thanks," the Austrian replied; "but Mademoiselle
Julie, she will never forgive me."
"So much the better," I told him; "then you will get no more brandy,
and so will keep out of prison." He sighed heavily and said no more: I
could see that he was really sorry at last.
At the usual hour all the prisoners made their appearance before the
commandant. The Austrian and I were the last to be tried, and we could
see that our judge was in bad humour that morning and unsparing of
abuse and punishment alike. When our turn came we presented ourselves
before him, bareheaded, without belts, and guarded by an armed escort.
When the charge had been read out the corporal and some men gave
evidence in support of it, and we were asked, the Austrian first, as he
was a soldier of the first class, what we had to say in reply. Neither
could say anything, and truly, unless we had a very good defence
indeed, it was best to say nothing, for the commandant, a good man in
many ways, was very short-tempered, and was evidently in a rage that
morning. The Austrian was condemned to lose his chevron, and then the
officer turned to deal with me.
"You have been here often of late," he said, very mildly to all
appearance, but I knew what that sudden mildness meant. I said nothing.
"Can you not speak?" he almost roared.
"Yes, sir."
"You have been here often, very often--too often; is it not so?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you think that I have nothing to do except to listen to complaints
against you?" Again he spoke very quietly.
"No, sir."
"Then why are you here almost every day?"
"I cannot avoid it, sir."
"Well, well, it is necessary that you learn a lesson. Four hours _en
crapaudine_. Remember, remember well, not to appear here again soon."
Now I have already described this punishment, and have said something
about its effects, as I heard about them from others, and as I saw men
when they were put in it, but I was now for the first time to feel them
for myself. The adjutant did a very mean thing, and many men who would
not mind seeing me _en crapaudine_, not through any dislike of me but
simply because they were used to the sight of prisoners so placed,
severely blamed him for it, and blamed him the more severely as they
felt that this new system of punishment might become the custom of the
battalion. Everyone feared for himself, one may say.
Now it was usual to keep a soldier sentenced to this discipline in the
guard-hut until the great heat of the day had passed and then to put
him in a certain portion of the parade-ground trussed up like a dead
fowl. The adjutant, however, did not allow this to be done with me. He
came down to the guard-hut a little before noon, had me taken from the
cells to the place of punishment, and there, my ankles being fastened
together and my hands manacled behind my back, I was forced upon my
knees, my body pressed back until the centres of both pairs of irons
were joined as closely together as possible, and so every joint of my
body put upon the rack. But this was not all. When I was safely _en
crapaudine_ the brute knocked my kepi off with his stick, and so I was
left in a posture of agony, exposed with bare head to all the torturing
rays of an African sun. Now one can understand why my comrades were
indignant; now one can see why they dreaded punishment in the noonday
hours, for even if the kepi were left on a man's head, he would in all
likelihood cast it off by his own struggles, and be sure, be very sure,
that no one would dare to approach to replace it. It was replaced for
me, I grant, and replaced more than once, and other things were done
that helped me in some sort to bear my punishment, but Giulia was not
amenable to military law as we others were, and even the adjutant dared
not fall out openly with her, for all Frenchmen, including even the
commandant, naturally side with the woman in a quarrel, especially when
the woman is _figlia del reggimento_.
I was not long _en crapaudine_ before I realised to the full the awful
agony that men endure when they are truly and literally on the rack.
Pains were quickly felt by me at the knees and at the ankles and at the
wrists. My hands, forced backwards into an unnatural position, dragged
heavily upon my neck, and the pain, beginning there, travelled down
gradually to the shoulder-joints, so that from neck to ankles there was
not a joint without its share of torment. Soon afterwards the small
of my back became involved in the general dislocation, and then it
seemed to me as if a heavy weight had been placed upon my abdomen and
was squeezing the lower part of my body out of all proportion. Then
a tight band, as it were, was fastened on my chest; I seemed to feel
my ribs crushed in upon my heart, my breath came and went quickly,
and, to complete the agony, my forehead began to feel constricted,
and shooting pains ran from temple to temple, as if some demon from
the lower regions were thrusting and thrusting and thrusting again a
red-hot knife through my brain. At this time I must have begun to cry
out, or at least to groan, for I was suddenly aware of a rough hand
grasping me by the head and another pulling down my underjaw, some hard
substance was shoved into my mouth, and in spite of all the pain that I
was enduring my senses for a moment came back fully to me. I knew that
I was gagged and that the first part of my punishment was over, for men
generally drift into insensibility when the gag is applied; there will
be an occasional lifting of the eyelids, a spasmodic shaking of the
head, and that is all.
I learned afterwards that Giulia had replaced my kepi more than once,
and had even bathed my temples and forehead with cold water, but she
was not allowed to remove the gag, though she begged and prayed that
it might be taken away. The adjutant had wisdom enough to keep away;
it was well known that Giulia, for her own protection in so strange a
society, so remote too from civilisation, always carried a knife about
her person, and very often a dainty little five-chambered revolver that
would certainly kill at near range. But for all that he saw that I was
bound and gagged to the last minute of the four hours, and the sergeant
of the guard, as well as the sentry who stood near, knew very well the
consequences of yielding to Giulia's prayers and entreaties.
"Oh no; anything in reason, Mademoiselle Julie; but you know as well as
a _vieux soldat_ that we cannot disobey our orders. Disobedience on our
part would injure us and not save your lover in the least."
Giulia understood, and could only weep and pray that the time might fly
with eagle wings. Alas! for her, even more than for me, time, had only
leaden feet that afternoon in the little cantonment near the desert,
and, worst of all, the sun blazed furiously in a cloudless sky.
At long last the fourth hour came to an end. Quickly the gag was
withdrawn from my mouth, the irons were taken from my limbs, and I was
lifted up to my feet But I could not stand, I staggered and almost
fell; Giulia was not strong enough to hold me up, but the sergeant
caught me at the other side, and both lowered my body gently to the
ground. One could easily see that it was impossible for me to reach
without help the hut where my squad lived, and some legionaries who
had been looking on with interest at the scene--poor devils, not one
of them could tell when his own turn might come--came across from
where they were standing and volunteered to carry me to my cot. Giulia
gratefully accepted this offer, and I was borne as tenderly as possible
to my hut. There some of my own squad took me, undressed me, and put me
to bed, and left the hut to Giulia and myself. Giulia managed to get
me to drink some brandy and water, and I gradually felt better, but as
my senses returned I became more and more conscious of the awful pain
in every joint of my body. There was but one thing to set me right
again--rest, absolute, complete rest, rest without stir of limb, for
every time I ever so slightly moved a terrible stabbing pain ran right
from the part I moved through all my body.
That evening the canteen was kept open during the usual hours by the
wife of the sergeant who had replaced me in military charge of it.
Giulia would not leave me, and in some degree to make up for keeping
the others out of their hut, she gave money to those of the squad who
had not given evidence against me. The corporal got none, neither did
the Austrian; as for two or three others who had been summoned as
witnesses before the commandant, they got merely angry words, mixed
with contemptuous epithets. They did not stand this long. They left
the hut as quickly as possible and kept away until nightfall, when an
unpleasant surprise awaited them and the other comrades of the squad.
It seems that Giulia went away for a short time while I was sleeping
and made certain preparations for spending the night in the hut.
Consequently, when the corporal and the soldiers assembled outside and
called to Giulia that all lights would soon have to be put out, she
told them plainly that the lights would not be put out in that place,
that she had candles enough to last until morning, and that she meant
to allow no man to enter for the night.
"I stay here," she told them, "for the sake of my lover. I will keep
you out for the sake of my good name. I have three loaded revolvers and
plenty of spare cartridges, if any one of you should attempt to enter,
I will kill him."
They tried to persuade her to go to her own quarters; they promised
that they would take turn about to watch me; all was of no use. At
last the corporal went and told the adjutant. The latter saw no way of
settling the matter, knowing full well that he would receive a bullet
rather than a word from Giulia, so he wisely resolved to tell the
commandant of the affair. The commandant, in good humour by this time,
only laughed and said that he would see about it. So he came across,
and, rapping at the door, asked Giulia for the privilege of entering.
Giulia opened the door, the commandant saluted her with his customary
courtesy, and then inquired for me. I answered for myself, and with
deliberate malice I told him that the four hours _en crapaudine_
would have been easily endured if I had undergone the punishment in
the evening, as was usual, but that the heat of the sun had hurt me
severely, especially as the adjutant had knocked my kepi off with his
stick. The commandant was indignant; he was only like all officers, who
don't care what men suffer so long as the sufferings are not intruded
upon their notice, but who, on hearing a specific case of unfair play,
will virtuously condemn somebody and then forget all about the affair.
That's the way in every army in the world; Sergeant X speaks harshly to
Private Y to-day, the captain overhears, and speaks still more harshly
to the sergeant for his abuse of the private; next day Private A, who
has been soundly rated by Corporal B, seeks redress, and is told at
once that he did not get half enough and that if he can only carry
foolish complaints to his captain, as a little girl to her mother, he
has no right to wear a uniform--he should rather wear a petticoat. Yes;
officers are inconsistent in their conduct to the soldiers, so are rich
people in their conduct to the poor: one day in the week kindness;
six days in the week ugly names and cutting words and, worst of all,
unveiled contempt.
Well, the commandant said that he would speak to the adjutant in the
morning, and--I may as well finish with this now--he kept his word, and
gave the brute as straightforward, pointed, and condensed a reproof as
a superior officer ever gave to an inferior. He did it before witnesses
of all ranks, and so the story was told through all the battalion, and
even those who had no money were happy that day.
When the commandant volunteered to escort Giulia to her abode she
refused point-blank.
"I will stay here," she said, "all the night, and I will fire on any
man that tries to enter."
The commandant, pretty experienced--as most officers are--in the ways
of women, saw that she had quite made up her mind, and, shrugging his
shoulders, said: "Very well; but let the men take their greatcoats and
blankets away."
"Yes; but you, monsieur le commandant, will wait till all have
departed."
"But yes, but yes." And he went to the door and told the men that they
were to come in, take their coats and blankets, and leave the hut at
once. Afterwards he would dispose of them for the night. He managed
well enough by dividing them amongst the neighbouring huts, where the
poor, evicted fellows made each man his bed as best he could upon the
ground. Then he told the sergeant of the guard that the lights in my
hut were not to be taken notice of by the sentries, and went home to
bed, proudly happy in the consciousness of having acted kindly towards
people, for all of whom--Giulia, of course, excepted--he felt the most
supreme contempt when they were not on active service. You must know
that in front of the enemy we legionaries were always addressed as "mes
enfants," at all other times any ugly name was good enough for us.
Giulia insisted on my staying in bed all next day, and no one said a
word about it. In the early forenoon the lieutenant--with whom I got
on so well in the march to the cantonment and who was now in charge
of the company during the illness of the captain--came and spoke very
sympathetically to us both. He said nothing about the lecture read
by the commandant to the adjutant, rightly judging that there were
many who would be very glad to give us all the news about that. As
he was going away he said something to the corporal who was standing
near the door. After the officer's departure the sub-officer told me
that I might stay in bed another day if I liked. I thanked him, but
declined. The fact is, I knew my comrades were anxious to get back
to their quarters, as they were sure to be anything but comfortable
divided amongst so many squads. Consequently, I told Giulia that
evening that I was nearly myself again, and I asked her to bring across
a couple of bottles of _eau-de-vie_, so that we might make some amends
to the others for their eviction. Giulia brought more than I had asked
for. She carried across from the canteen two bottles of brandy, three
of wine, and a couple of pounds of tobacco. When the others saw the
bottles and the packages they were more than satisfied; they drank her
health that night, and swore often, and with vehemence, that they would
all willingly die for her. What children soldiers are, and how easily
they are pleased!
After this I had a fairly easy time for a few weeks. But I had become
rather reckless now, and all Giulia's powers of persuasion were needed
to prevent me from breaking down into a careless, slovenly soldier.
What is the good, I often thought, of cleaning equipments when I
shall be abused just as much as if they were really dirty? Where is
the use of springing smartly at the word of command when I shall be
called a lazy rascal and a stupid fool? What matters it whether I am
idle or hardworking when I get the same reward every time? Since I am
to be abused and punished let me at least deserve the abuse and the
punishment, then I shall be more content. But Giulia would not hear
of this. She was determined that I should continue to be a clean,
careful, active soldier. She had a wonderful fund of hope, and she had
one argument that I could not withstand. "Yes, yes, it is hard," she
would say; "but remember, when you begin to deserve trouble, I shall
begin to deserve it too." Now, though I could easily be reckless on
my own account, I could not find it in my heart to be reckless when
Giulia was certain to share the consequences along with me. She was too
good, too true, too loving to be drawn by me, who loved her so much,
into any rashness which would end bitterly for us both--more bitterly,
I fancied, for her, who would survive, than for me, whose troubles
would soon be over. Nevertheless, I grew more and more morose every
day. True, I was never morose in Giulia's society, but in the hut I
was not a pleasant companion, and I am afraid that my comrades left me
more and more to myself every day. The corporal did not seem to watch
me any longer. I fancy he was getting to be a little afraid. He, as
well as the rest, saw that it would take very little to make me lose
my temper altogether. And when a desperate legionary, his mind full of
real--as mine were--or fancied wrongs, does break out, he is more like
the Malay who runs amok than the European who strikes a blow or two
and then is carried--kicking, striking, biting, and cursing--to the
guard-house. Another reason that the corporal had for not interfering
with me was this, the other legionaries were not indignant with me for
my moroseness and want of good-fellowship. Now, as a rule, the man
who keeps aloof from the rest of his squad has a bad time. Men will
not allow themselves and their society to be flouted by another not a
bit better, not a bit higher, than themselves. In the Legion all are
equal--the ex-prince and the ex-pauper, the man of good character and
the man of bad. But when the men of a squad see that a comrade is in
bad temper with his superiors and recognise that he has reason, then
they will not mind aloofness or sharp answers or ugly words. On the
contrary, they will sympathise, never knowing when their own turns
may come for ill-treatment. So the corporal, seeing that the men were
quite satisfied that I should live my life to myself and felt sympathy
and not anger on account of my conduct, wisely left me alone. There
were many ugly stories current in the Legion of what had been done by
men driven to desperation, and, be it well understood, the sub-officer
valued his chevrons a good deal less than he valued his life.
I got myself into trouble more than once about this time, but I was
never afterwards put _en crapaudine_. Twice I was buried up to the
neck in the ground, or rather once to the waist and once to the neck.
This was called putting a man _en silo_. It was a hard punishment, but
not to be compared with the other. The worst of it was that one felt
as if heavy weights were pressing him at all points, but this feeling
of pressure was nothing compared to the straining and racking of the
joints when one was _en crapaudine_. A good proof of this is that I was
never gagged when _en silo_. I could easily enough stand it without a
cry. It is of no account now why I was thus punished. I freely admit
that the commandant was quite justified in making me suffer for my
offences, but it must be remembered to my credit that there would
have been no offences if I had been left alone. Ill-treatment made me
act foolishly, that is the first point; I paid for my folly, that is
the second; the third is, when a punishment is over the offence that
entailed it ought to be forgotten.
I was now, to all intents and purposes, a man apart from his fellows.
The other legionaries watched me curiously. They wondered, I fancy,
how long I should stand the strain and how the certain result would
actually come about. The adjutant was just as tyrannical as ever to
the men of the battalion; he distributed his curses and abuse with
perfect impartiality, but no one minded now. The officers were the
only ones who did not understand, though they, doubtless, had heard
of many tragedies in the Legion, yet they seemed to have forgotten
all: officers really care only for their own pleasure and comfort,
and every one of them, from commandant down to sub-lieutenant, felt
quite satisfied so long as there was an appearance of good order and
discipline. If I were an officer, I should remember that a troublesome,
riotous battalion seldom furnishes materials for a tragedy; a quiet,
well-behaved one, where the men speak in drawing-room tones and seem
to be always looking out for something, has more elements of danger in
it. In the Indian Mutiny it was the good soldier who gave the most
trouble and took the biggest share of the beating; he mutinied because
his conscience drove him to it, and his conscience would not allow him
to surrender. When a bad soldier mutinies, any hound is good enough to
bite him, and once bitten, he hands in his gun. To put the matter in a
nutshell: the battalion was too good; it was so quiet and calm that any
man of observation might see that there was something ugly underneath.