A WORD IN SEASON
I was in a state of great excitement when I left him--a mixture of hope
and anguish aroused by the ascendency of his words. They had been so
clear and categorical, too. I could so vividly imagine the movement
of salvation within our reach. The German right, harassed by a dizzy
offensive, no doubt experiencing difficulties in the replenishment
of supplies, after having lightly embarked on this broad movement of
conversion--with us as a living menace on its flank, well supported by
the camp (were our numbers large enough? That was the chief point),
well rested and provided with ammunition ... what a lot of trumps
we should hold in the advantage of taking them by surprise; the
consciousness of the justice of our cause, the strength drawn from
contact with our Mother City.
I was possessed with the idea that a decision was urgent. Was not this
the day and the hour, even the minute, that historians would designate
to all eternity as that in which our supreme chance of victory occurred?
My heart was beating madly. I tried in vain to calm myself by the usual
reflections. I could so well picture the alternative being laid before
the governor of Paris. Either to reserve his army in view of the
probable siege, or else to hurl it into the furnace down to the last
battalion.
It was a formidable initiative. The fate of the country in his hands!
All my being was strained, almost to breaking point, towards the side
of boldness. I would have given ten years of my life that this man's
heart might be well tempered.
I walked feverishly through the streets wherever chance led me, looking
for someone to talk to. I met De Valpic, but he was exhausted and was
going to rest.
Guillaumin had been warned for orderly duty at the Town Hall. I went
to see him, but did not get much out of him as he was absorbed in his
duties. It was a sight to warm the heart, this string of inhabitants,
coming, each one of them, to offer to have soldiers billeted on them.
On leaving there, I went to have a look at my men who were cleaning
themselves up and mending their clothes--a laudable care for their
personal appearance, and a way of passing time. According to the
general opinion, we should be there for some time.
I continued my walk and extended its area. I came to a vague piece of
ground bordered by a hedge. I distinguished the murmur of voices behind
it, and caught sight of some uniforms. Someone exclaimed:
"Take care!"
I showed myself. Then they laughed.
"Halloa! That you, Dreher?"
Five or six of my comrades from the fifth battalion were seated there
in a circle, Ladmiraut and Miquel among others; Fortin, too. I was
delighted. It will be remembered that I had not seen him since the
incident at the "Globe."
I went and sat down beside him and began to talk to him in a cordial
tone. Idiotic, the fuss that had been made! Did they still continue to
worry him?
"Not a bit."
He spoke rather coldly. Miquel intervened.
"Rather not! He's in my platoon. I let him off the troublesome
fatigues."
The conversation seemed to be hanging fire. I asked:
"What were you talking about when I arrived?"
"Oh, nothing much--nothing at all interesting. You got any news?"
I was stupidly inspired to tell them of little Frémont's death.
"Poor boy!" sighed Laraque.
"Whose turn is it now?" Fortin remarked.
Silence fell again. I said:
"You don't seem very enthusiastic here."
"Not much reason to be."
"Oh, come!"
Fortin gave a start, but his neighbour nudged him, saying:
"That your opinion?"
There were smiles. My reputation as a scoffer was indeed well
established. Fortin, without addressing me in particular, murmured:
"I wonder if there are still any optimists left?"
"Of course," I said. "Myself for one."
He gazed at me, refusing to take me seriously; then said, in a tired
voice:
"I am stating results. The war has been going on for just five weeks
and where have we got to? We've been beaten everywhere and thrown back
on our final redoubt. The amount that was said about defending the
least particle of ground foot by foot, till the last extremity! The
extremity has soon come. Let's establish the balance: Lille, Arras,
Amiens, Beauvais, St. Quentin, Mézières, Rheims--by this time probably
Meaux and Châlons; possibly Nancy! A quarter of France invaded. No, I
tell you, there's nothing to be done. They were ready; that's all. They
knew what they wanted."
I interrupted him, quivering all over. It was my turn now to copy
Guillaumin.
"Then, according to you, everything is lost?"
"Oh," he said, "the men are first rate. There's nothing lost by
admitting that. They will probably hold out to the end, in face of all
hope, for honour's sake."
"And you'll be one of the first to do so," said Miquel.
"Just like everyone else. It's in our blood. I see our line of
resistance on the Loire, then on the Garonne. The wretched government
will have to move house again."
"How you run on! And Paris?"
"It's lucky they didn't bear straight down on it. They'd be entering it
at this very moment."
"Perhaps they had some reason...."
"Bah!"
"All our armies on their flank."
"Our poor armies! A lot there is left of them!"
"Really? Look at our regiment. Is it at full strength? Have its numbers
been made up to what they were at the start? Yes. Well, it's the same
thing everywhere. All the depôts have supplied men. As we fell back
we recuperated our reserves while, as long as their communications
go on extending, their front loses in density. They are no longer so
immensely superior to us in numbers as they were at the beginning,
and their movements are anything but free. Maubeuge was not taken
yesterday."
"But it will be to-day."
"One day gained."
"Oh, yes! That's a good joke, that idea about holding out."
"Holding out, exactly. We've got to the thirty-fifth day of war.
According to the German plans, we were to be annihilated by that date.
Are we? No. There are all kinds of things lacking."
"All kinds?" Fortin said ironically.
"Our line is not broken anywhere; we have only wheeled. You spoke of
Nancy just now. They'd better come and take it from Castelnau! Do you
really want to know what I think? I think they're the ones that are in
the soup."
A buzz of scepticism greeted my declaration. I continued:
"First of all, here they are forced to take how many?--three or four
army corps back to the East."
"To the East? Why?"
"Against the Russians."
"Where did you get hold of that idea?"
"In the papers."
"Are they to be had?"
"If you look for them."
I shook them.
"You're not curious! You know nothing, then? Not even you, Fortin?
Really? Nothing of our Allies' successes?"
He raised himself.
"But look here, are these tales serious?"
"What d'you mean? Their advance exceeds all expectations."
I summed up the triple Slav offensive in Prussia, Galicia, and Bosnia.
They seemed to doubt my statements. I abruptly pulled a newspaper
out of my pocket, spread it out, and read out the headlines of the
articles. I called their attention to the illustration, a mighty
Cossack pointing his lance at Berlin.
They pressed round me, crushing me, their hands seizing the paper and
their eyes devouring the contents. When their first thirst was allayed
I continued in the most serious tone:
"There's a first motive for confidence. For the second?... But you've
only got to look at these Sunday crowds. Talk to them and you'll soon
see. We are seeing Paris at her most noble aspect. Don't you realise
that we are living through the most glorious days in our history?
For the first time we have avoided weakening ourselves by political
convulsions in the face of danger. That will save us, simply."
Some of them nodded in approval. Fortin tried to weaken the impression
I had made.
"The papers say what they choose."
I attacked him.
"And what about you--what are your statements based on?"
"I should be only too glad," he protested, "to see things take a turn
for the better."
"No, you don't wish for our success," I cried. "Or at least not
ardently enough. You are the victim of your standpoint. For months
now you have been repeating in your lectures and articles that you
know Germany inside out; that she is powerful and irresistible; that
the future of Europe lies with her while we merely represent a past
about to vanish. Ever since the beginning of the campaign you've
been waiting, with bowed head, for your prophecies to be fulfilled.
I can imagine you warning your companions that 'that will not last,'
whenever any good news arrives, and saying, 'I told you so!' at each
setback. And if you regret it as a Frenchman, which is quite possible,
it's quite obvious that as a philosophical witness you unconsciously
rejoice. You misrepresent the reality. Your vision is warped. You
immediately look at the worst side when endless possibilities are
open to you. Do you wonder that the future looks black to you in such
circumstances? But the most annoying part is that you demoralise those
around you. I implore you to make an effort. Try to be impartial and
honest. Consider all the signs in our favour to-day."
I continued. I was speaking quickly, overcoming the obscure
embarrassment which usually paralyses me, when it is a question of
holding the attention of an audience. I let my conviction burst forth.
I poured out the arguments I had collected in an imperious flood. By
expressing them I discovered in them fresh truth and amplitude. Far
from becoming involved and detracting from each other, they grouped
themselves into harmonious chains.
I extolled the morale of the troops; that morale at which we all
expressed ourselves surprised, and Fortin most of all. Surprised? Why
not say exalted? Behind us the nation gave proof of its indomitable
spirit. I laid stress upon the superiority of our generals; the young
blood introduced in high places, the incapables placed on the retired
list; and the prodigious problem represented in a retreat of those
dimensions when the whole line must keep in touch, and never cease for
an instant to harass the enemy.
I suddenly shifted my ground, and reverted to the international
situation which I ventured to depict in broad and summary terms.
The Triple Alliance disintegrated. Austria beaten and occupied in
decimating her Tchek troops. Italy, non-committal, had perhaps already
made up her mind to intervene, but on our side to save her children
in the Trentino, and in Trieste; the Balkans, waiting silently in the
darkness, like a bird of prey, for the death rattle of the first to
be conquered, to claim a share of the carcass. Turkey keeping at a
respectful distance. On our side the Russian giant only inaugurating
the effort which he was capable of increasing for months and years.
The English contributing their incontestable mastery of the seas,
the omnipotence of their gold, the land forces fed by their insular
and colonial reservoirs. Belgium and Serbia, little nations with
unquenchable spirits--yonder on the other surface of the globe, the
Land of the Rising Sun throwing its weight into the balance. The world,
in fact, in coalition against the insolent race which aimed at hegemony
without in any way justifying it.
At first they had listened to me with a smile as if it were an
excellent joke. Little by little the incredulous curl to their lips
died away. Fortin repeatedly punctuated my remarks with "Exactly,
exactly!"
A last allusion on Laraque's part to my reputation for "having people
on" fell flat.
I gaily ventured on new developments. I lost sight of myself. I became
really inspired. It intoxicated me to attain to such unlooked-for
ardour. I do not remember quite what I said. I know that my comrades,
with half-opened lips and eyes fixed on mine, hung on my words, and
that for the first time in my life I endured all these gazes bent on me
without false shame.
Our side was that of Justice, of international fidelity, and respect
for treaties, of Morality, written or unwritten. I was not afraid of
bringing up these popular commonplaces, and I clearly dissociated our
cause, even from that of the Allies. We were the only nation with
completely unsullied hands, and peace-loving hearts. We were the only
ones who, drawn into the struggle against our will, in bearing the
heaviest burden, were fighting for our very existence. I asked them to
think what the French mind meant to the world, what would be missing in
the progress of humanity in the future if we let ourselves be overcome.
We were not only defending our immediate interests, but a certain
smiling Reason, a certain completed and definite genius whose secret
to-day we alone possessed. It was a decisive conflict. Fortin was right
about that. If we were conquered again this time, we should always be.
It would mean that our name would be scratched off the list of leading
nations, our colonies sacrificed, three or four provinces torn from our
Mother-country, who in future would fall a prey, every ten years, to
the appetites of the conqueror.
The end of France was what the aggressors wanted. To extinguish this
blazing hearth of liberty and light, to smother this ringing voice
continually calling the nations to the realisation of themselves, and
to those in power to respect the down-trodden.
Ah, my friends, what an hour it was to strain our faculties, to
prove ourselves worthy of our humbler brothers who were showing
such self-sacrifice and instinctive heroism! We others ought to be
strengthened by our education. I dared to plead the memories of the
soil which bore us. I evoked the rolling uplands of Champagne where we
had lingered yesterday and where we might return again, summoned by the
melancholy accents of the guns. How many battles had been fought and
won there by men of our blood! They were the Catalonian fields, where,
at the dawn of our history, the hordes of barbarians already issuing
from Germany had spent themselves against the vigour of the Gauls,
the allies of Aetius. And was it not just a few miles away, on the
hills and in the valleys which to-morrow's prodigious engagement would
perhaps gain for the enemy, that the astonishing episodes in the French
campaign had been enacted, a hundred years ago! Champaubert, Sesanne,
Montmirail, and again Meaux and Moret. It was there that our fathers,
children of sixteen, the last class eligible for mobilisation, had held
out for weeks, flying from one valley to another, inflicting defeat
after defeat on an enemy five times more numerous, on the European
coalition! And we, after a long peace, well-taught, well-led, animated
with the breath of civism--should we not find a way to hurl back over
our frontiers the enemy whom Napoleon had trodden under his heel?
I was afraid to end up with a high-flown tirade. I uttered my closing
sentences in a softer voice, as if out of breath. I was still quivering
and, with my eyes on the ground, I threw some pebbles from one hand to
the other, backwards and forwards.
There was a silence. Laraque broke it with a joke. "An aeroplane!"
he announced. And it was a hawk! Other frivolous remarks followed.
Suddenly chilled, I asked myself whether my words had missed fire.
I had no more fear about it a moment afterwards, as we went back to
billets--slight, striking indications--they all had more life in their
movements, something firmer in their tones.
Fortin had murmured: "I think Dreher's right."
We were just about to disperse near our school, when some cavalry
turned out of a side street. We saluted the officer at their head, a
colonel. He urged his mount towards us:
"Hi, there, you foot-sloggers, read that!"
He held out a paper, which Fortin handed to me without a word.
Why me? I hesitated about unfolding it. The others shouted: "Yes, yes,
give it to Dreher, that's it!"
I felt as if I were in a dream. At the first glance I understood. A
proclamation signed "Joffre."
I said: "Call the others!"
The signal had already been given. A torrent of men flowed in from
all the different companies. There was a bench just by. I got up on
to it. From there I dominated the crowd which was gathering round me
in increasing numbers. Soon half the regiment was there, and some
passers-by joined on. There were shouts of: "Listen! Listen!" Then a
dead silence.
I began to read, subconsciously approving the way in which I raised my
voice and scanned each syllable. It was the famous order of the day,
which has so often been reproduced since then.
"At the moment in which a battle is beginning upon which the fate of
the nation hangs.... Troops which can no longer advance must be killed
where they stand rather than give ground."
Not a syllable escaped me. Not a soul asked for it to be read again.
A ripple ran over this dumb throng. I jumped to the ground, and got
lost in the crush. What intuition urged me to make a dash for our
billets? Hardly had I crossed the threshold--how quickly things
happened!--before a whistle was blown.
Humel, who was corporal of the day, ran by like a flash. "Come along!
On with your pack!"
"Are we off again?"
"That's it!"
Guillaumin appeared.
"Off we go!"
De Valpic was the next to turn up: "You read that splendidly!"
I soon noticed a sort of irresolution among the men, due to surprise
more than anything else. Start again! When they thought they were going
to have several days' rest! And they had felt so sure that there would
be no more fighting in the open for them!
Some of them had instinctively gathered round me: Judsi, Bouillon,
Corporal Bouguet, Icard, and Gaudéreaux. They were puzzled, too, but
only asked to have things explained. They asked me about the paper that
I had read out. Several of them had not been there.
"We'll have it again for you!"
This time I choked with emotion at the last lines. I added:
"Look here! The Bosches think we're not worth taking into account.
They think we're safely shut up in the camp. We're going to fall upon
them in the rear!"
Their faces suddenly cleared.
"Good biz!" said Judsi. "Wot a lark! Lor', the blighters! Wot a biff
we'll give 'em!"
It was like a fuse followed by an explosion of gaiety. Some of the men
were already buckling on their packs, and others pulling on their boots
and doing them up. Bouguet began to sing at the top of his voice:
We don't care a blow!
Tra-la-la-la.
We don't care a blow!
Lamalou spoilt his effect.
"Wot do you mean, 'don't care a blow'?"
They went on getting ready to a chorus of jests. They might have been
starting off for a holiday.
Directly I was fully equipped, I went out and was one of the first
to get into the avenue. I could not master the transport which swept
me off my feet, at the thought of going into action. Of taking the
offensive again! The captain must have second sight--and the time was
not past. Our chance was intact, indeed, increased. Heavens! All that I
had hoped for was coming to pass. Let me confess my vanity, my childish
simplicity. I was actually under the delusion that if our luck was
turning, it was my reward, for having drawn myself out of the pit to
help others.
And was I so very much mistaken? Was I not responsible for a small
share in this immortal decision? Would our leaders have taken such
a risk--it was a bold move!--if those waves of faith and enthusiasm,
which a few of us had raised, had not spread from our watchful quarters
right away to them?
_BOOK IX_
_September 7th-9th_