"Ah! there you are, _mon gros_, why are you all dressed up?"
"I leave on vacation, lieutenant."
"Where are you going?"
"Paris."
"Lucky fellow! When you get there what will give you the greatest
pleasure after all the hardships you have endured?"
"A woman's smile!"
THE POILU WHO NEVER SMILES, VERDUN.
_March_, 1916.
This morning I was with a group of soldiers, laughing and joking with
them. The newspapers had brought us good news and our joy manifests
itself in loud bursts of laughter----
A man was seated aside from the others and had an absent and gloomy
look. My attention had been drawn immediately by the expression of
despair which one could easily read on his features. I lowered my voice
and said:
"Look, sergeant, what is the matter with that _poilu_? He cannot enjoy
himself and laugh like the others? His face is drawn and pale! Can you
explain that----"
"Well, lieutenant, one night he had instructions that were not clear
and a patrol came back into our lines. He believed it was the boches
and fired. He killed a close friend----
"From that time he has always been sad and several times I noticed he
cried at night. You will see, one of these days he will do away with
himself----"
HOW THEY LIVE AND HOW THEY DIE,
TAVANNES TUNNEL.
_March_ 15, 1916.
Tavannes Tunnel, everyone will tell you, leaves a memory of hell. It
constitutes a natural shelter for troops in reserve in the sector of
Vaux. The enemy bombarded the extremities of the Tunnel with gas shell
and those of a large caliber----
During the long months we had dead piled up at the entrance to these
villainous holes, because access was had by means of two passageways,
opening to the sky, with each side of the rocky walls very abrupt----
When shells burst in this limited space, it was impossible to get under
cover and the corpses of our dead accumulated at the two outlets of the
Tunnel!
Those who met in Tavannes Tunnel must have hated the spot. They groped
around blindly awaiting anything!
At times, I believed myself that I would be one of these kind of bugs,
black and stinking, that one crushed under foot!
* * * * *
One day the moment arrived to send re-inforcements to a place very near
there. There was nothing to say but get going immediately! A sergeant
took command of the little column----
"Forward, _mes enfants_!"
The cannonade raged and it was "bad" outside--The 150 timed-shell and
the big 210 percussion shell followed each other rapidly, searching out
the more nervy ones----
The sergeant left the Tunnel first, briskly ascending the incline,
believing he was followed by his men. He turns and perceives they are
not there--yet!
"_Nom de Dieu!_ what are you doing, you laggards! Are you coming to-day
or to-morrow!"
They came out, the _poilus_, but with head and back bent as if under
a shower of rain. They hurried, without precipitation, because of the
steep climb. Now that they have left the Tunnel, they are all right----
They creep along worm-like and the file of men, like beads on a rosary,
extends from the entrance to the Tunnel to the waiting sergeant.
Suddenly an explosion, flurry, smoke--right in their midst, _les
pauvres_!
For some instants they all disappear in the cloud--but there is
"horizon blue," crumpled bodies and a spinning helmet----
Finally the cloud clears away; there are still some men around him and
the sergeant shouts again:
"_Nom de Dieu!_ you laggards! Are you coming to-day or to-morrow!"
They hurry on, striding over the bodies of their comrades who have
fallen----
[Illustration: Verdun and the Meuse, March 23rd, 1916.]
ANXIOUS HOURS, VERDUN.
_March_, 1916.
To-night we sent one of our men to the Citadel of Verdun to send a
package of papers to Colonel Benoit.
We were at table--Habert lighted the lamp and night had fallen. Our
orderly had scarcely placed the rabbit stew on the table than three
violent raps were heard at the door.
An old Territorial, with a dejected air, entered the dining-room, and
we saw by his bearing he came to announce a misfortune----
"What is it you have, _mon petit_?"
"Are you Lieutenant Capart?"
"Yes----"
"I am returning your papers--we found them on the man who carried
them--he has just been killed and your name was seen at the top of the
papers and I brought them to you."
"Our sapper has been killed! How did it happen?"
"The shell struck him squarely, killing three other _poilus_. He is in
shreds, lieutenant. Good night, lieutenant----"
LeBlond and I were astounded at the death of this brave boy, who had
just left us. With sadness we turned over the papers in his handwriting
and covered with his blood. Habert's features were pale and dejected.
The news extinguished our appetites and we sat gloomy and silent
before the excellent meal Habert had prepared for us----
* * * * *
An hour later one of our _poilus_ arrived by the _Rue-sur-l'eau_, and
said to us:
"You know the news?"
"Yes, we have heard the sad thing--_Pauvre petit_----"
"He sends his respects to you, lieutenant, and asks if you have
received your papers all right----"
"_Voyons, voyons_--whom are you talking about?"
"But--about your secretary----"
"We were just informed he had been killed----"
"No, lieutenant! he was slightly wounded in the arm and will be away a
few days on leave. These Territorials from the South of France always
see the dark side of things----"