A SHADOW ON THE PICTURE
It was fortunate that we were three friends, three brothers, each less
devoted to himself than to the others. How lonely it would have been
otherwise! In billets we sometimes happened to come across friends
from other companies: Laraque, Ladmirault, or Holveck. There would be
a handshake, and a few words, no more, and then we separated. They on
their side lived for themselves. The breach between us and the other
N.C.O.'s was widening.
I except Breton, the quartermaster-sergeant, who, on the contrary,
sided with us. We must needs do him justice for the care and cleverness
with which he accomplished his task of commanding No. 4 platoon where
Hourcade seconded him badly, and keeping the books of the whole company
under the captain's supervision. Sturdy and square-shouldered, it was
good to see him going off with the camp material towards the end of a
long halt. He nearly always succeeded in hunting out suitable sites.
His responsibility and the country life suited him. He no doubt looked
forward to the military medal, and the sergeant-major's stripe, at the
end of this venture. Plucky under fire, and as much on the spot there
as elsewhere, he always had his men well in hand. He had been won over
by our conduct under fire. During his rare leisure moments, he would
willingly come and joke in our little group, which he dubbed "The
Bachelors' Club." The only trouble was that with him you had to drink,
drink, drink, the whole time. No drunkenness, but good hard drinking!
We refused to join him for the first few days, but he called us
molly-coddles, and almost took offence. De Valpic advised us to accept.
We took turns to treat each other, here a pint, there a glass. After
that it was a case of friendship till death, between him and us.
But the Humel-Playoust "lot"! Ravelli might rightly be classed with
them now. I have spoken of the complete transformation which had been
effected in him. It was doubtful whether the _poilus_ ever heard the
sound of his voice. Playoust had taken possession of him, getting
hold of him through his weaknesses, flattering his Corsican vanity,
but making a laughing-stock of him, though he was too stupid to see
it. They never left each other, and were on the most familiar terms.
These days, so fertile in surprises, had completely deranged the
sergeant-major who had always been rather shaky in the upper storey.
He saw spies everywhere--in all the old women, and priests, disguises
which had as a matter of fact been made use of. Playoust spurred him
on, for the amusement of the onlookers. The game was assuming alarming
proportions. Ravelli, at Hazaumont, went to find the commanding
officer, and handed over a list of suspects to him, which had been
drawn slyly, by the other--all the parish priests in the neighbourhood!
The captain was good-natured; he merely shook the poor sergeant-major:
"I shall keep my eye on you, my lad!"
Later on, on the evening of "Beauclair," Ravelli only just missed
throwing the whole division into a panic by yelling "The Uhlans!"
Trouble might have come of it. There was some question of reducing him
to the ranks. His last chance of obtaining officer's rank was lost then.
But in spite of it he still continued to pin all his faith to Playoust.
His ears buzzed, and he was continually asking:
"Is that firing, that we hear?"
"Exactly."
And the wretch pointed out some fleecy clouds in the sky.
"Look there. Shells bursting!"
"Good heavens! Marked again!"
But one thing that was not so funny was that since the sergeant-major
continued to arrange the rounds of duty, Playoust made use of his
power over him to get him to bully or favour certain men. De Valpic
as has been seen was their principal victim. But directly we got wind
of the matter, Breton warned Ravelli that we had decided to report it
to the captain. The threat was sufficient, the normal time-table was
immediately reverted to. All he gained by it was that Guillaumin, who
was sickened by it, called him and his set, Brutus! and Blackguards!
and refused point-blank to have anything to do with them in future.
Yes, that's what it came to in the end.
The N.C.O.'s of each company stuck together and had nothing to do with
the others. In the sinister hours of that retreat! I blush to have to
report it!
Hourcade was simply an unpleasant nincompoop. His only outstanding
feature was his greed. If he had thrown in his lot with the
Humel-Playoust set, it was because he considered that he was more
likely to pick up titbits there than anywhere else--a folly which
prevented him from tasting Gaufrèteau's cooking! He stuffed into his
haversack miscellaneous provisions, most of which he had shamefully
gleaned from his men's rations. His mouth was always full. In billets,
replete, not to say crammed, he quickly fell asleep and snored.
As for the two elementary schoolmasters, that was a simple matter:
they hated us. Not starting from to-day or yesterday, but from several
years ago, and before that--from birth. They were envious, embittered
fellows, suffering, so De Valpic considered, from their semi-educated
state. An ambiguous caste, despising the peasant and detesting the
_bourgeois_, though we had nevertheless met and appreciated some lads
belonging to the same class at the "Peloton," who were hard-working,
intelligent, and ambitious, and had taken top places at the end of
the year. But these were vulgar and envious on a level with most of
them. Their physique was poor too. Even Descroix's strength, heavy
and squat though he was, did not come near to ours; one felt that his
blood had been impoverished and his muscles weakened by a studious
youth, infrequent exercise, and poor nourishment. I considered him
really repulsive with his flattened head, his stuck-out ears, his
gaping mouth. I disliked him for all these signs of degeneration, and
above all because of his deliberate cruelty towards the "viscount,"
and the brutal laugh with which he greeted Playoust's spiteful tricks.
Humel, who was small and weakly, with a thin neck and bowed shoulders,
and was always exhausted at the end of a day's march, inspired me
with more indulgence. Was he not the youngest of us since Frémont
had disappeared? Once or twice I thought I saw a look of gentleness
flit across his face, an expression which always attracts me. I had
occasionally made certain advances. In vain. A fanatical disciple of
his companions, he was not the least quick of them in administering
offensive rebuffs.
Playoust had them all under his thumb. He was certainly smart, the
rascal! I had been finely taken in at first by his look of a Paris
street-urchin. He worked his open-handed, happy-go-lucky appearance,
which makes the type so attractive, for all it was worth. And all the
time he was as slippery and vicious as he could be. He hardly ever
risked anything more than a casual piece of insolence on us, and he was
the only one of the lot who continued to say good-day to us or to shake
our hands, while, privately, he never ceased to stir up his acolytes
against us. It must be noted too that he made game of them, cynically
letting them in for endless fatigues. I bore him all the more ill-will
for it, because, for a long time, I had thought I recognised a kindred
spirit in him. Nothing had awakened in him--a proof that there was
nothing lying dormant in him. What a hideous vision he afforded me of
what I might have been.
Let there be no mistake about it. What annoyed us most about them all
was the sight of their flabbiness and slackness. Since Spincourt they
had chucked the whole show and were continually saying that they didn't
care a blow what happened!
Their corporals were decent fellows and partially succeeded in making
up for their deficiencies. Their men were no worse than most. But in
spite of it their lack of authority came nigh to being disastrous
on several occasions. To begin with, it was an admitted fact that
in their platoon they might get drunk with impunity. I remember the
stink of wine and vomiting which rose from the stables where their
men were billeted. How could De Valpic's have escaped the infection?
Ravelli, who had been put up to it by the others, was always down on
him. Playoust was charmed when the soldiers and the inhabitants were
at loggerheads with each other. He tacitly encouraged the foraging and
marauding that went on. Some of his _poilus_ were mixed up in the rows
at Béthaincourt.
Here is another occurrence which will serve to illustrate the different
attitudes of mind. One grilling afternoon when we were passing the
train of company waggons, the captain took it upon himself to give the
most exhausted men permission to put their packs in the waggons. Our
men were too proud. Their packs! They were quite capable of carrying
them themselves, thanks! In the first platoon the N.C.O.'s were the
first to unballast themselves; first, ten, then fifteen, then thirty of
the men copied them. When that waggon was full, what should these fine
gentlemen do, but set to work calmly to fill the next one that came
along, which belonged to No. 20 company. The commanding officer, when
he heard about it, came rushing up, inquired into the matter, bellowed
like a bull and cancelled the permission. Our men chuckled over the
occurrence. The others were furious: He'd better not bully them! Get
away with him. They were fed up!
As the retirement went on the "set" kept up a stream of grumbles. The
marches were too long. Poor reservists, we were being killed! Why
did we halt so far from any well? Was it true that all the filth was
thrown into them? Why was our company always given the most disgusting
quarters? It was not surprising! Our captain didn't get on with any
one! Who had to pay? We of course! And the baksheesh? Who got the
baksheesh? As there wasn't even a ration of brandy every day.
After "Beauclair" things got even worse. We only caught scraps of
their declamations because they put on the soft pedal when they
saw us coming, just as they did with the officers. Playoust among
others was particularly good at posing as an excellent fellow who was
never put out by anything. But out of the reach of "tell-tales" and
"busy-bodies," their evil tongues wagged busily.
It was sickening! they declared. The commanding officers were the
outside limit! According to them our brigadier-general, an old
Colonial, drank. The colonel was the kind of man to get us all hacked
to pieces for the sake of keeping up his reputation for bravery. They
gave us to understand they were delighted to see him wounded, and
they would have been even more so if he had not been replaced by that
old "dug-out." For that matter, you only need look at the result in
order to see what our leaders were! Hopeless! If we weren't done for
we deserved to be. Marches and counter-marches, bad management. We
could hold the Bosches when we got them to grips. There was nothing to
beat a French soldier! But as for preparation. Blimey! The slackers
who had to look after that! Descroix cast up his eyes, swearing that
those responsible would be found among the old ministers and present
deputies. He foretold retaliation in the shape of lawsuits, or riots.
Why was there such a lack of heavy artillery, of machine-guns, of
searchlight apparatus, and armoured cars? Why did we see nothing of
the aeroplanes whose praises we had had drummed into our ears for years?
We were getting near to all the senseless recriminations of 1870. But
they were not quite so serious this time, in spite of everything. They
did not accuse Poincaré of having been bribed, or Joffre of being a
traitor. They did not even go so far as to say that this war was absurd
or unjust. We had to defend ourselves, after all! The most bitter
complaints were of incompetence, and of the lack of foresight. Enough
to be demoralising!
They made tremendous fun of Ravelli and his fears, which they shared at
the bottom. Especially the spies! They passed on their superstitious
terror to their men. There could be nothing more depressing for them
than to feel they were surrounded by a vague throng of enemies. It
was like asking for hysterics. I remember how on the morning we were
guarding part of the Meuse, a group of refugees from Montmédy came up,
a family of five, including two children who implored us to help them
across. They were fortunate in finding us. We showed them a ford and
had them taken to the C.O. A little farther up the poor wretches had
come across some men out of Playoust's platoon, who had insulted them
and threatened to shoot them.
And then there were the false reports, the pseudo-news, invented or
rumoured, but always bad: Italy entering the lists against us, or
England's dilatoriness. We should have to pay damages! Or else, one way
of getting out of it would be to leave our friends, the Russians, in
the lurch. Not a thing to boast about, perhaps! But it would cut short
this war, and they were fed up with it!
I am not exaggerating. They descended to these depths of ignominy. They
were more at ease with De Valpic who slept with them, and he reported
similar conversations. It did not do to attach too much importance to
it. There was probably a good deal of "side" about it. They were so
jealous of us. Or perhaps they thought it fine to pose, on their side,
as people who were not to be humbugged, or again it might be simply the
inconsequence of men who did not quite realise the situation, or the
meaning of their words. Each of them egged the others on.
And to think--De Valpic inclined to the idea--that they were without
doubt excellent Frenchmen, who, when it came to getting killed, would
do the thing in style!
In any case nothing exasperated Guillaumin like their attitude. He
announced his intention of going to the C.O. to get him to put an end
to the scandal, at least twenty times. We restrained him, being opposed
to all tale-telling. We endeavoured to prove to him that their wild
talk had no effect. Playoust had had the reputation of being a wag ever
since the beginning. None of the men would take his nonsense seriously.
Guillaumin did not give in:
"You'll see!" he said. "You don't realise that all that eats away and
undermines.... It is bound to show itself in time!"
It was true enough! What a difference there was in the morale of the
two platoons.
In ours, for instance, nobody ever reported sick unless he was
suffering tortures. They made it a point of personal pride. In theirs,
on the contrary! One morning, Guillaumin, who was sergeant of the day,
had put down eight men for medical parade. A mere trifle! He calmly
undertook to cure them all by suggestion. His chief argument was that
they would have to foot it for about five and a half miles, to reach
the Medical Officer. Five of the men had their names scratched; the
rest stuck to it. It happened to be one of Bouchut's bad days and he
sent them all off with a flea in their ear.
And when we stormed Beauclair, what a tragic exhibition they gave of
themselves. When we left the wood in extended order, ready to charge,
we looked round for No. 1 platoon, which was to support us on our
right. Not a sign of it to be seen. It made a cruel impression on
us just as we were starting off with fixed bayonets. At last we saw
Lieutenant Delafosse come out leading a handful of men, among them De
Valpic and his half-section. Behind, a long way behind, was Humel. We
charged and saw no more of them. In the uproar which followed upon the
occupation of the village, the incident passed more or less unnoticed.
But we learnt that the C.O. had rated Delafosse for it roundly. The
latter, throwing off his reserve, frankly laid the blame on some of his
N.C.O.'s who lacked go.... That was putting the case very mildly! De
Valpic assured me that he had heard Descroix putting the drag on his
men's eagerness. "Don't hurry lads! The first lot will be napoohed!"
Here again no penalties were inflicted; they would have been too
terrible. The well-known sentence for every weakness in military law
is: _DEATH_.
This leniency was perhaps to be blamed. Who can say what an ill-omened
influence our comrades exercised during the days that followed? It
was the most gloomy period of all. We abandoned first-rate positions
without fighting. It was impossible to rely on any favourable
information, however slight. Rumours circulated, and were added to,
concerning our reverse in the North. The replenishment of munitions
which had up till then been well-organised was failing. We were, as I
have said, repeatedly in danger of being cut off, or of getting under
fire from the pursuing batteries. Villages blazed behind us, or even
on our flank--a palpable danger for our retreat. The ditches too were
filled with soldiers, belonging chiefly to the regulars. Who could
blame them for it? Boys of twenty, worn out by four weeks' overdriving,
sleeping there, by the roadsides, for days and nights on end.
It was a bad example though. The temptation to copy them was so great.
There were no more mounted police on the heels of the stragglers. Even
they were fighting, so we were told.
That was how our numbers dwindled. We had realised the danger, and our
efforts were combined in preventing any men from staying behind. We
kept on urging them: "Come along now! Only a few miles more. You surely
don't want to fall into the hands of the Huns!" And we laid to their
charge abominable atrocities surpassed by reality.
At last we reached our goal. We lost only five men out of the platoon
during that week, two of whom were ill, and two wounded. What leakage
there was in No. 1 company! We got the exact figures from the
quartermaster-sergeant, who had to draw up the numerical returns each
evening. Breton stormed, excellent fellow that he was!
"Hang it all! _Poilus_ are too precious to lose!"
One evening in Descroix's platoon only twenty-nine men were left, out
of thirty-five the day before, and Breton cynically sneered: "Six more
done a bunk!"