So he began to feel better and stronger and rejoiced when the doctor,
in the course of his visits, said to him:
"You're going to pull through, and I'm glad of it----"
He was still extremely feeble, had to be nourished with a spoon, but he
did not forget that he was very well taken care of in this hospital.
Turning his head, he perceived with surprise that his neighbor in the
next bed was his comrade in the trenches, Paul Dubois----
"Is that you, Patachon?"
"Yes, my _pauv' vieux_."
"Why, you here, too--what's the matter?----"
"A foot gone--leg lots shorter--but I complain no longer, Cobusse; you
don't suffer much any more--I thought I heard the death rattle those
first days----"
"No, I suffer no more----"
"You know how we got here?"
They began reconstructing the scene completely, the bombardment; and
they recalled the premonitory whistling of the shell that had wounded
them both.
They chatted for a long time and there was a consolation for having
been taken prisoner in finding themselves together.
Some weeks later Cochin and his comrade, being improved in health
and strength, were evacuated to a hospital in the interior. They
made a long journey on the railroad and perceived more and more how
unfortunate it was to lose one or more limbs.
On arriving there, Cochin had so lost the notions of equilibrium that
he fell several times to the ground to the great despair of Dubois, who
thereafter never slackened his hold on him.
Cobusse and Patachon came rapidly to be very close friends; these two
wrecks of the war could not be separated and found in each other a
reciprocal sustenance.
Patachon washed, dressed and fed Cobusse and rolled his cigarettes. He
tried to explain to his friend that one can go through life without
arms and used such unusual arguments that it caused his comrade to
smile at times.
And the latter said amusingly:
"In the meantime, I have an itching--scratch then, my head--not
there!--yes, there, how good that feels, Patachon----"
Their morale remained excellent and they were confident of victory.
During their captivity, one rainy day, they were sitting side by side
on a bunk and began to talk of their families.
Cochin told how his wife was waiting for him in _Panam_[34] with their
little Hélène, who was almost five. He could not stop talking of the
little _gamine_ who was "his own picture."
"You cannot realize, Patachon, how lively and intelligent she is. Ah!
what wouldn't I give to clasp her in my arms."
To change the conversation Patachon said to him:
"Some time you'll be eager to scratch yourself, Cobusse--Don't stand on
ceremony, you know I'm here for _that_, my old friend--we must aid each
other in life."
The long hours of captivity passed sordidly enough, broken by the
arrival of letters from France and packages of food.
When they talked with the Germans they were completely reassured on the
outcome of the war: both of them were very skeptical when they heard
the bells ringing and when they read the bulletins announcing another
German victory. When their guardians looked gloomy Patachon never
failed to smile at Cobusee.
"Our overseer wears a long face these great days, he must again have
swallowed another pill!"
The two, and their comrades, shattered wrecks like themselves, always
passed the sombre days in the little German village where they were
taken. They had to suffer numerous privations. They missed the hospital
at the front and the German doctor who was "rather a good sort."
They had to take insults from these heartless people and many times
they were able to read a secret joy in their eyes on seeing them
crippled.
"Ough! the dirty beasts, Cobusse, did you see how that woman there
sneered at us----"
* * * * *
Many months went by and Cochin and Dubois never left each other. They
spoke less of the war, but retained the hope of returning to France
and of this they often talked.
"Listen, Patachon, here we are, you and I, _grands blessés_, and we
should have been in Paris long ago--what are they trying to do--keeping
us all this time?"
"Yes, Cobusse, it commences to be very long----"
One day, however, it was announced their turn had come and they could
leave. At the thought of seeing France again they were thrilled. They
had done their duty and could return home proud----
Quickly they were ready and began the long journey across Germany.
Their train was full of _grands blessés_, miserable beings which the
grave did not want and which it was glad to be free of. As Patachon
said, "They all look like a lot of wire and rubber----" They were
blind, sick, maimed and mad!
There was enough misery in that train, but all were haughty and
dignified!
"What a sad air," said Cochin, "this boche country has----"
Rolling along thus during one entire day, the night was broken by
very long stops that seemed endless. And these long hours of waiting
made them very tired and low spirited; as soon as they started again
everyone began to laugh and talk.
As they drew near to the Swiss frontier scarcely could they conceal the
joy they felt on leaving this country that was killing them.
At dawn the train arrived at a station all lit up, where, in spite of
the early hour, there were great throngs. It is Schaffhouse!
Along the platform Swiss officers and soldiers went to and fro, excited
as if they saw Frenchmen for the first time----
"We are in Switzerland, Patachon----"
"Are you sure?"
They looked out the car window and scarcely had time to see, on the
other track, a trainload of wounded Germans going the other way.
"You see, they are maimed like us----"
The soldiers in the two trains regarded each other closely without a
word.
Hardly had the train of the German _grands blessés_ started to leave
the station than a military band began to play the "Marseillaise"!
Yes, the "Marseillaise"--They raised their heads and there wasn't a one
who did not hold himself in an effort not to cry----
Then the station became crowded with persons who wished to see
the _grands blessés_. They distribute flowers, cigarettes, little
tri-colored flags, small cakes, chocolate, colored postal cards--The
station gets more and more crowded and the excitement grows.
"Ah! we are not in that boche country any more, Patachon--I begin to
breathe easier already----"
But they're all more or less amazed at this great bustle to which they
are ill-accustomed, and for the first time they see human beings who
have sincere pity for their misery.
* * * * *
At Zurich, at Olten and at Berne, they see the same things and more
so as they approach France. Here, the manifestations are clamorous and
very lively. Above all, the people speak French and shout: "_Bravo les
braves!_"
However, they are not yet completely happy: they are not home! But they
stretch and become more attentive to the surrounding country. Through
the window they admire the Bernoise Alps blanketed with snow.
At Fribourg, a woman holds out a bouquet of flowers to Cochin, while
her daughter presents him at the same time with a cup of steaming
bouillon. They cannot understand why the crowd shouts so much. They cry
also: "_Vive la France!_"
"Take it," say both the mother and daughter.
Patachon leans out the window.
"He cannot take them," he says, "because his arms are gone----"
The two step back as if to shrink away from this immense misfortune,
but Patachon calls to them:
"Pass me the flowers and the cup--it is I who am his mother at present.
Thank you, madame; thank you, _ma petite_--_Allons_, drink that, old
brother. Is it too hot?"