Here there is an important storehouse belonging to the Engineers, where
materials are kept, destined to supply the sector. There is, above all,
a hut where I go to seek shelter. Since morning an icy rain has been
falling and I'm glad to be able to find a dry spot.
I go into the meager room, feebly lighted by a smoking lamp. What luck!
The warmth is soothing and I can dry myself----
On the table is a set of chessmen!
"Who plays chess here?"
"I do," replied the head of the _dépôt_, a young sub-lieutenant.
"A game?"
[Illustration: Colonel Geney awarding "Croix de guerre" to blue devils
of Captain Gunther, on the battlefield.]
"That's a go!"
We are absorbed in the game--and, with the log fire to keep us warm,
I forget everything: the war, hardships, and at the same time, I must
confess, all that I love----
THE PRACTICAL POILU, EPARGES.
_January_, 1916.
This episode took place at l'Eperon-des-Mitrailleuses, which is balder
than the head of our friend Mollinié. Tons of explosives in the last
few months, have been dropped on this little sector, and the pretty
wood which runs down each side of the hill has completely disappeared.
Underground, two long galleries of about 125 yards each are being dug
to intercept the enemy. Again we find ourselves on ground where mining
warfare progresses. The length of these galleries renders the work
extremely difficult; the air there is bad and at the end of the tunnel
our sappers can only work for a few hours.
The installation of electric lights and ventilators betters, from day
to day, living conditions which exist in these villainous holes.
These latter also occasion a visit from the Colonel of Engineers, who,
on a certain night, comes to inspect the improvements. He always has a
kind word for everyone.
Arriving at the end of the gallery, he questions the brave _poilu_,
who, in the presence of his colonel works with an exaggerated rapidity.
"You ought to be very grateful to your lieutenant who furnishes you
with light and air."
"Yes, colonel, but I prefer _pinard_!"
THE LOGICAL POILU, CHEVALIERS WOOD.
_January_, 1916.
Chevaliers Wood appears to be at the extreme ends of the earth, so much
so that one feels far away from everything down there. The cold is dry
and piercing. Pretty, white smoke rises from the shelters, in which are
burning bright log fires. The ground, on the outside, is covered with
snow.
I am going back to the trenches, having at my side a little blue devil.
The _poilu_ is leading a mule, a nice, gentle mule, carrying ammunition
to a machine-gun section.
We passed at the side of a 75 battery, so well _camouflée_ that we had
not seen it. We are just even with it when it begins to fire.
The mule makes a jump and I see the moment when our little chasseur is
going to be spilled on the ground.
He recovers his balance and, furious, plants himself before the animal.
"_Nom de Dieu_, don't you know _our_ 75's?"
TRAGIC COINCIDENCE, EPARGES.
_January_, 1916.
I have spent several days at Berne on vacation. Some hours before my
departure I went into a shop to buy a cold luncheon to take on the
train.
Near the shop-door two elderly women were talking in a low voice. At
the moment I went out, passing close to them, I overheard the word
"Eparges." I stopped short.
"Pardon, madame, well have you said 'Eparges'--I come from there and
I return! In two days I shall be there and it startled me to hear the
name pronounced so far from that spot that I will never forget it!
"Perhaps you know someone there? Tell me, I will go and see him for
you----"
"My son, Charles, is at Eparges--his name is Charles Dubois. He is in
the 9th Engineers----"
"Under orders from Captain Grenet, my friend; he is a sapper-miner----"
"Yes, Charles is a corporal in his company."
"Upon my arrival at Eparges, I promise you, madame, that I will find
your son. He will be very happy when I tell him that I saw his mother
at the precise moment she was thinking of him----"
* * * * *
On the road, in the auto, which is taking me to Mesnil-sur-les-Côtes,
I think of Charles Dubois, whom I shall easily find at the end of my
journey.
I will not go to bed in the shelter, without having seen him--God
knows, however, what fatigue the last step will bring----
Alone on foot, I will make the hard trip the length of Longeau, a
brook, which was torn up enough in 1914 and the beginning of 1915.
During supper tête à tête with Captain Gunther, who welcomed me
heartily on my return, I am haunted by the memory of two old ladies----
"What happened in my absence?"
"Nothing in particular, except this morning. We had five men buried
by a _camouflet_--they began at once to recover the bodies. All were
killed----"
"I am going above to-night, with your permission----"
"You must go to bed--you look very tired!"
"I have promised a woman to see her son----"
"I will accompany you."
Some moments later, we began the trip, so laborious at night, almost to
the crest of Eparges.
At first the long path--what irony!--the length of which was found the
shelters of our sappers and from which came at one time or another,
sounds of voices. Then we passed Sap 13, where was heard the purring of
the electric generator and the compressor.
Farther on is the first-aid station, where a moment never goes by
without finding wounded there----
Then it is the P. C. of the colonel, where there is always a great
bustle, and where one must say to the _poilu_,
"Out of the way, _mon petit_, let me pass."
[Illustration: Eparges, The "Ravine of Death"
From left to right: Lieutenant Blanc, Captain Gunther, Sub-Lieutenant
Capart.]
Finally, the subterranean passage about sixty feet in length, and we
come out in a spot not so dark: Woevre plain is down there. We turn
to the right. It is the "Ravine of Death," where trees mutilated by
projectiles are silhouetted against the night like a band of witches.