The sky is ablaze to our left. They will perhaps attack at any moment.
Shells rain around us four at a time and at regular intervals.
As the positions on our left have been forced back and our flank
menaced, Chabert's sappers have hastily dug a small trench at the
entrance to the village, facing the west.
The _poilus_ are waiting stoically for whatever may transpire. A man is
curled up and, numb with fatigue, sleeps. One of his companions shakes
him and says:
"_Mon vieux_, you cannot sleep. Wake up, because each minute we hold
them now, it is a VICTORY!"
WOUNDED, BEZONVAUX.
_Night of February_ 24-25, 1916.
Our artillery no longer responds. The order to fall back was given at
five o'clock. My men are moving toward Verdun, conducted by Sergeant
Thiébaut. I stop at Bezonvaux, hoping to find there my comrade Chabert.
I have promised his mother, who has only this boy, that I will watch
over him like a brother----
Followed by Corporal Poulet, who has remained with me, I wander around
in the violently bombarded village. I enter the empty homes abandoned
by their inhabitants, where our poor soldiers, tired out and saying
nothing, lie stretched out on the floors. The big _marmites_ arrive at
regular intervals, crushing houses and occupants----
Finally I end by discovering one of Chabert's sappers and say to him:
"Where is your lieutenant? Take me to him!"
"I don't know where he is--I believe he has been killed----"
The night is black and the air is filled with smoke and dust. One
stumbles above all on plaster and bricks----
Sinister detonations and cries and groans. There is, in the air, the
breath of catastrophe, yes, of catastrophe, which oppresses your chest.
The man who guides us is lost--he goes and comes, he makes us take wide
detours, he is afraid and is nervous----
A large projectile falls at our side--the _poilu_ is knocked down,
giving vent to a raucous cry as he falls. I fall myself to my knees and
feel the heat of blood which runs down my chest. My left hand rests
on the body of the sapper and I am conscious of it covered with warm
blood----
Poulet raises me up, giving me a drink of brandy. Stray bullets whistle
around us----
I am only slightly wounded and take Poulet's arm to direct ourselves
toward Fort Douaumont where I will have it dressed.
How long and sad is this road. It is a veritable Calvary for me and I
stagger lamentably; these last days have proven almost too much----
"Lieutenant, why doesn't our artillery respond any more?" Poulet asked
me several times.
"I do not know, _mon petit_, we are going through grave times, but we
must not get discouraged. Have confidence!"
CÔTE-DE-L'OIE.
_February_ 25, 1916.
Someone who must be amazed is the surgeon-in-chief of Gondrecourt!
I arrived at his hospital in the early morning in Colonel Gency's
automobile, who announced my coming by telephone----
A hospital attendant tore off my tunic, cut off my shirt, baring a
bloody chest----
"We are going to give you an anti-tetanus injection, radiograph you,
and to commence with, I'm going to call the surgeon-in-chief----"
While the attendant was gone, I hurriedly dressed myself and
left--English fashion. Luckily Colonel Gency's automobile was still
there. I had no fear of pain, or the boches, but I don't like doctors!
I went through Cumières like a shooting star would pierce a rain of
projectiles and sought refuge at Côte-de-l'Oie, where I know they will
not come to search for me----
FEAR, CUMIÈRES.
_February_ 25, 1916.
Fear ... Oh! terrible thing! It is a contagious malady that has to be
watched. All of us have inside a cowardly beast that awakens sometimes
at the approach of danger----
Very violent bombardment to-day. The two chauffeurs who brought me
here this morning left the machine at the entrance to the village. On
returning from Côte-de-l'Oie I found them in a sappers' bombardment
shelter where they sought refuge.
These men are green and grumble about things. Around them are some
_poilus_ and a captain. The explosions outside redouble and I feel as
if the whole world was ill at ease.
The two automobilists, to put on a bold front, speak of their machine
"which must be demolished by this time" or "which must have been torn
to pieces long ago," and by the trembling of their voices I divine that
they are thinking of themselves in speaking of the "automobile."
Little by little the others chatted about the effect of the bombardment
and they discovered that the dugout was not very solid and that an
accident could easily happen. The captain appeared to me nervous and at
once I felt that strange thing burning within me----
This anguish that grew inside is perhaps the result of these last days
of fatigue during which we had not been able to rest an instant, day
or night. It is, perhaps, the result of my wound of last night which
still bleeds and makes my shirt stick to my body----
No, it is these two cowards, these two birds of bad luck that make us
shiver----
At such times "you have got to kill fear," or one is lost. The means?
Get out of this hole! the pretext----