[Illustration: Richard in the midst of his comrades.]
A Marine Fusilier conceived the drôle idea of unscrewing from one of the
abandoned coaches in Nieuport one of these little notices that the
railroad company places under each window to warn travelers of the
dangers of poking their heads out. The little enameled sign had been
nailed by him on a plank in one of the first-line traverses, where one
could read, with profit, this notice:
"It is dangerous to stick your head out here!"
RICHARD'S GOD-MOTHER, ON THE YSER.
_August_, 1915.
"Listen, Richard, a pretty marquise has requested that I find her a
god-son! Do you want to be elected?
"You are a husky lad like all the Marine Fusiliers, your behavior was
good at Steenstraat, you are also good-looking, in short you have all
the required attributes that go to make up a perfect god-son."
"With pleasure, lieutenant, thanks----"
"In that case I will take your photograph immediately, in the midst
of your comrades, so that I can send one to your god-mother. She will
be carried away! I forgot to tell you that the Marquise de R---- is
charming and you will be spoiled as no one else----"
Some days after I sent Richard the picture which he slipped in a letter
addressed to his god-mother--a very nice letter and well written.
A few days later the young chap told me that he was going on his
vacation.
"Don't fail, Richard, to call on your god-mother," I cautioned, adding
with a smile, "and don't forget to kiss her for me."
It was only a short while before I received the following letter from
the Marquise de R----:
"You have sent me a charming god-son, but the day of his arrival
he seized me in his arms as if with all his strength and planted a
sonorous kiss on both cheeks, saying, 'On behalf of my god-father!'
"It appears that you are his god-father! I am still thrilled by it.
I pardon you this time because this brave boy has lifted a small
corner of the great veil that hangs over Paris and which hides your
sufferings. You are bold, he told me--do not expose yourself uselessly.
"The life in Paris is once more the same as ever. I am sending you some
Parma violets, since you like them. They are all that I could find. I
seldom go out. It is quite a long time since you have written----"
CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE ENEMY, BEFORE ST. GEORGES.
_August_, 1915.
On arriving at the "Brick Bridge" to-night, I found everyone in great
spirits. There was a group along the edge of the canal--in the middle
was a boche prisoner.
The big lumbering cuss had the air of complete bewilderment. Our
marines were all talking to him at once and harassing him with a
thousand questions. An officer approached.
"Quiet, men! Two men to conduct this fellow to the Brigade
Headquarters, and lively!" They took the road, followed by the German,
who kept at their heels like a pet dog.
The officer explained that for several days his marines had maintained
correspondence with him. They placed their messages in a bottle which
drifted along with the current. The boche had written:
"My wife has advised me to surrender, but you are terrible
soldiers--you certainly would massacre me."
Some hours later the reply of the marines came to reassure him that
everything would be all right.
This tableau lasted several days and "Jean Gouin" ended by believing
that it was a ruse of the enemy and ceased to write. Finally a message
came to them, drifting along in the bottle:
"To-night I will come along the slope of the canal. Do not shoot at me.
I am the father of four children."
And so, when night fell, they saw a big, black mass creeping along the
edge of the bluff. Our fusiliers were ready to spring, but he was alone.
* * * * *
With his two guardians the deserter was taken a roundabout way. They
passed along the whole first line of the north sector because the two
Marines wanted to parade the boche before their comrades.
They were proud of this capture and gave their prisoner cigarettes,
and bread, and one of them had the generosity to slip a box of
_singe_[13] into his pocket!
They led him farther, almost to the road to Lombaertzyde, to show him
to the Zouaves, and finally took the road for Brigade Headquarters.
In the sector held by the 2nd Regiment of Marine Fusiliers they
discussed this incident for a long time.
FOR THE COOK'S TOURISTS, IN FRONT OF ST. GEORGES.
_August_, 1915.
Boche torpedoes are decidedly disagreeable to listen to. The spot which
seems fated to receive more than its share is the small fort north of
St. Georges, 350 yards from the "Brick Bridge."