THE FIRST IMPACT
What made me a little anxious was the need for sleep manifest in nearly
everyone. Sentries were to relieve each other in definite order--but
what guarantee was there? In another hour all these men, who were
yawning now, would be snoring!
I myself was dying to go to sleep. In view of the gravity of the
situation I encouraged myself in the idea of going the rounds every
hour. But the lieutenant came to find us and told us of his intention
of mounting guard himself. He asked us, in a friendly way, to do the
same on our side. We three between us would ensure the safety of the
sector.
We must needs bow to necessity. I was tempted to admire Henriot;
he showed the vigilance of a real leader. Then I smiled. It was no
doubt the effect of the minute received that morning concerning
responsibilities.
What an interminable vigil that was. The men slept like logs,
including, to begin with at all events, several of the sentries. I can
answer for it that I shook them in a way that made them sit up.
When I got back to the picket I had chosen, I had all I could do to
keep awake myself. A helmet of lead seemed to encircle my temples.
I had a headache and felt overpoweringly drowsy. I dozed off about
midnight, but not for long, luckily! The respite did me good.
Hour after hour passed by. It was a clear night, though the moon made
only a late appearance. The landscape was lacking in any conspicuous
features. There was nothing that caught one's eye right away to the
horizon, which might be near or far.
It would not be long before daybreak. We were freezing where we stood.
B-r-r! B-r-r-r! I shook myself and rubbed my shirt against my skin to
warm myself. My attention had wandered.
Guillaumin suddenly appeared. I had not seen him coming.
He said to me:
"Not noticed anything?"
"No. Have you?"
"Yes, for the last few minutes.... I think there's something doing."
We strained our ears for a few thrilling seconds. Dead silence.
Guillaumin admitted that he must have been mistaken, and apologised.
But at this point Bouillon came crawling along in a hurry.
"Here come the Bosches. Look! Look!"
Yes. There was a moving line yonder, cutting across the pale grey of
the stubble.
What orders would the lieutenant give? We went to look for him, quickly
rousing the _poilus_ on our way. They got up, rubbing their eyes, and
noiselessly seized their rifles at the order to stand to arms.
We met Bouguet on the way, equally on the alert. The whole platoon
was breathless with excitement. We passed word along the line to our
neighbours.
And what of Henriot? We ended by discovering the poor wretch, who had
probably held out all night against his weariness, overcome by it at
last, and snoring away with his head on his arm.
Guillaumin shook with laughter.
"A lot of good all his trouble had been!"
He wanted to startle him by clapping him on the back. I objected. What
was the good of humiliating him? I arranged to catch him with my elbow
as I brushed past, and deferentially inquired as he moved:
"Is that what you would advise, sir?"
"What! What!" he said, opening his eyes.
"To send word to the captain."
He raised himself up to listen to us, and approved our suggestions.
It was like a moving film!... That dark silent line, that line of
assailants at which we turned to look continually, which we imagined
was still a long way off. The speed was suddenly quickened. There was
a sound of galloping--which seemed quite near. I strained my eyes, my
lips opened with a jerk. I took a step forward....
Henriot blew his whistle.
I can still hear the rip of that imperious salvo. A volley of shrieks
answered it from the plain, and dispelled my shudders.
And the salvo grew more violent and rolled along the whole line of
trenches. We saw nothing further: simply went on firing, sweeping
the ground in front of us. I shouldered my rifle and discharged it
distractedly, just as mad as the others. The crash and uproar rose and
swelled and threatened.
It did not last more than a minute. The attack was badly carried out,
or, at all events, sustained. It was an entire failure. Our firing
persisted. Cries could still be heard, but of pain now, and also the
interjections of officers rallying their men. There were smothered
moans and death-rattles. Our firing still continued. When it ceased
nothing was moving on the plain and only an occasional guttural groan
could be heard. When the dawn came we saw the stubble-fields strewn
with bodies, some of them less than thirty yards away. They had fallen
face foremost. The rest had been hit in flight. It was impossible to
go and pick up even the dying. They must stay there all day, ghastly
witnesses of the encounter.
* * * * *
It was broad daylight now.
Where had the enemy taken refuge? Probably behind one of those distant
copses, unless they occupied trenches somewhere in this undulating
plain which sloped gently away.
The German artillery was obviously anxious that we should not forget
its presence. The avalanche of shells started again with terrific fury.
Nothing but big "coal-boxes." Luckily all or nearly all of them roared
over our heads to explode in the woods. Suppose we had stayed there!
The captain appeared towards seven o'clock and told us that we should
be there for some time.
One pleasant surprise was the coffee, which was brought up from the
rear by Fachard and Pomot, two cheery fellows who were seen coming
along in the distance, smiling and fearless, gaily swinging their
dixey. They had had to cross the zone of fire to get to us. When
questioned, they admitted that they had had no orders. It was simply an
idea of theirs to warm the lads up a bit. And they meant to go back.
Fachard was no less a personage than the colonel's cook. His duty
called him. Oh no, that couldn't be allowed. Lamalou forbade them to
move. The colonel and his stew would have to look after themselves.
They weren't going to let lads like that get themselves pinked, not
much.
The captain, who turned up again, began by giving the two cronies a
good slanging. A piece of nonsense that might have drawn the fire on
to us. Then he calmed down and asked if he might taste their famous
coffee, and congratulated them on it.
Pomot took a fancy to our platoon and stayed with us. I talked to him,
but did not get much out of him at first. The thing that had struck him
most was a shell which had just killed two staff-officers. Oh, yes,
and then he had heard that reinforcements had arrived. An important
piece of news that. I pressed him--then he told me a fantastic tale
which had got about of taxis having brought up Zouaves and Turcos and
Foreign Legion men, all night, nothing but those frightful creatures
from Africa! It seemed to me an unlikely tale, but I thought it worth
spreading all the same. It gave the men a tremendous fillip.
"Them chaps knows the business end of a bayonet all right w'en they
sees it!"
Some time passed. I was occupied in getting our trench made deeper. The
men put their backs into it better than they had the day before. But
the captain immediately gave orders to stop the work, not to attract
the attention of the enemy's lookout men. Everyone appeared delighted.
They only bemoaned the fact that they were forbidden to smoke.
The German shells fell unceasingly, with clumsy, obstinate precision,
a few hundred yards behind us. Part of the wood was on fire and black
smoke hung above it. Sometimes when a shell fell near the edge of the
wood leaves and branches could be seen spurting up, as at the kick of
some huge monster.
It certainly was a rest for us. The crash of bursting shells no
longer startled us. We had even given up ducking when the projectiles
swished over our heads. The men were sitting or lying about in drowsy
attitudes. Many of them were taking another nap. Aided by a natural
feeling of indolence they ended by taking it for granted that this sort
of fighting would last.
Another hour went by. I vaguely wished I could take some interest in
the struggle. If only I had had a periscope or some field-glasses. I
was too slack to go and borrow Henriot's. For a moment I experienced a
kind of humiliation--was this all that would be required of us? Should
we share in the glory of this victory without having earned it?--No
one, up till then, doubted that it would be a victory--and leave the
honour of the decisive attacks to those African devils? And then I must
admit that this thought suddenly pleased me. I should get off easily
and my friends too. Everything seemed to be turning out for the best.
And De Valpic? Oh, he would recover.
Then, lulled by the deafening tumult of the cannonade, with my eyes
half closed, I indulged in visions of a tender face. I wandered,
enchanted, in the golden mists of the future....