THE DAY OF MY ARRIVAL, EPARGES.
_October_ 7, 1915.
When I come here for the first time I cannot help but feel that I will
pass the unhappiest moments of my life----
Upon arriving at Calonne trench and descending toward
Mesnil-sur-les-Côtes, I perceive Eparges on the right. With its mine
craters, its smoke, this barren hill, tinted red, appears like a kind
of Stromboli----
The road all the way to Longeau is simply exquisite. Eparges mill,
demolished almost completely, and overgrown with grass already recalls
the ruins of some ancient abbey.
I have traversed the length of the sector with a friend--it is very
active to-day. The boches, at break of day, exploded four mines
simultaneously. A section of the trench is completely demolished and a
hundred men have been killed----
We are on the verge of contact with the enemy and it is necessary to
crouch over dead bodies and sandbags to observe what is transpiring in
front of us----
GUNTHER DUGOUT, THE CORRUGATED IRON, THE RATS,
THE MAP, THE LETTERS, EPARGES.
_November_, 1915.
At the beginning our shelter was nothing more or less than a mole hole.
Little by little it is becoming habitable. The walls have been boarded
and the ceiling made of corrugated iron.
A long, large, white table, with benches----. How many of us will no
longer sit there! Everyone found in this little space is loved like a
brother.
On the board wall which separates the room from our sleeping
quarters, which is arranged like a sleeping-car, there is a map of
Alsace-Lorraine. Gunther, with his big fist, has traced an arrow in
ink, which points from Eparges to Strasbourg. He has written:
"The hearts and aspirations of the 14th Company of the 15th Corps point
this way!"
* * * * *
At night the rats, with an unseasonable boldness, run up and down
between the corrugated iron and the roof. One doesn't know if they're
playing or fighting. These gallops on the metal awake us with a start.
A flash from my electric lamp and I discover an immense rat tearing
across the room with a telephone message sent to me at the moment I
retired.
Ménard and Foulu prepare the evening meal before the arrival of the
post-sergeant. The little fireplace at the side blazes cheerfully and
fills the dugout with the pleasant odor of burning wood.