THE SACRIFICE OF LITTLE PIERRE
"There are many like Francois among those youthful patriots," began
Captain Favor when his little friends had gathered about him on
another occasion to listen to stories about the Children of France.
"They value neither their own safety nor their lives; they are willing
and eager to make any sacrifice if by so doing they can serve their
beloved France ever so little.
"One finds this spirit everywhere. It is one of the few bright and
beautiful things to be found in the great world war, though many of
the deeds of heroism of the French children will never be known. The
little heroes have made the supreme sacrifice and their lips, sealed
in death, can never tell of their deeds.
"That you may the better understand the spirit of patriotism that
fills the hearts of all these little French children, I will tell you
the story of little Pierre," said the captain. "This is not a long
story, but a more heroic one never has been told.
"While Pierre was twelve he was small for his age, but sturdy, and he
loved his country with a fervor that you children of America also
should have in your hearts."
"We have," spoke up Joe Funk.
"Yes, I think that all of you have. I wish you to keep it, to keep the
fires of patriotism burning and never let them grow dim. As for
Pierre, I will now tell you of the noble sacrifices he made for
France.
"Pierre lived with his mother in a small French village at the time
the Germans entered the town. Being hungry, as usual, they intruded
into the homes of the villagers and helped themselves to whatever they
could find, in some instances after first demanding that food and
money be turned over to them. The villagers dared not disobey nor
even raise a voice in protest.
"A captain and several men entered the home of little Pierre, where
there was a wounded French sergeant that the lad's mother had been
nursing and whom the little boy loved very dearly. The sergeant's
wounds were just beginning to heal, but so weak was he that he could
scarcely stand without someone to lean upon. When the Germans burst in
the wounded man was filled with rage, but he knew better than to
attempt to thwart them.
"'Give us food, all that you have. Hold back anything and you die,"
bellowed the Prussian captain, smiting the table with the flat of his
saber.
"Pierre's mother was stout hearted. 'We have only bread and cheese,'
she said. 'You may take it if you will, but I give not to a Prussian,
not even so much as a crumb. Take it if you will, for you are strong
while I am but a weak woman.'
"'Woman, you speak truly; we are strong, and we shall take, but for
this resistance you shall suffer. See what a Prussian does to such
dogs of French as oppose him!'
"With that the captain struck Pierre's mother with the flat of his
hand, hurling her clear across the room. She staggered against the
wall and sank moaning to the floor.
"The captain evidently had overlooked the wounded French sergeant, who
lay on a cot in the shadows, and his men were too fully occupied with
helping themselves to food to take heed of anything else. As for
little Pierre, the lad stood trembling with rage. He was not afraid,
but he was filled with righteous indignation.
"The sergeant's eyes were blazing as he fixed his gaze on the face of
the German captain.
"'You Prussian fiend!' shouted the sergeant.
"'What!' The captain wheeled like a flash.
"'For that you die! And ere the German could utter another word, the
soldier leveled his revolver at the officer and fired. There followed
a loud report, and Pierre's mother was avenged, for the Prussian
captain lay dead on the floor.
"For a few seconds following the shot the Prussian soldiers stood
mute, then, with one accord, they threw themselves upon the helpless
sergeant who already had twice fired his revolver at them, but without
effect. They beat him cruelly and dragged him out and before another
captain, to whom they told the story of what had occurred in Pierre's
home.
"The unfortunate sergeant was ordered to be taken to the village
square, where a dozen old men of the village were being held by the
Germans under sentence of death on the flimsy charge of having
resisted the Prussians. One by one these unhappy Frenchmen were being
lined up before a firing squad and shot down. The sergeant, who, of
course, was to share a like fate, was reserved for the last that he
might have more time for fear to sink into his heart while watching
the execution of the others. The sergeant neither asked for nor
expected mercy. Well did he know what the penalty was for such an act
as his, and he was willing to die for his country as well as for the
sake of the woman who had nursed him through so many dark days of
suffering.
"They tied him to a tree while engaged in their cruel work of shooting
the accused old men, where the sergeant hung weak from loss of blood,
for, under their rough handling his wounds had reopened.
"Little Pierre, his eyes large and troubled, had followed his friend
to the square and stood sympathetically beside him.
"'What, can I do? Tell me quickly,' urged the boy.
"'Fetch me a cup of water. I am burning with the fever again. One
drink of water and I shall have the strength to die bravely. Those
Prussian dogs shall not see so much as the quiver of an eyelid,' said
the sergeant.
"Pierre slipped into a house and brought a cup of water which he
placed at the lips of his friend. The sergeant had taken one swallow
when a captain dashed the cup to the ground. He swung and struck
Pierre a cruel blow across the cheek with the flat of his saber,
laying the lad prostrate. Pierre staggered to his feet, eyes blazing,
an angry red welt showing where he had been struck.
"'To give aid or comfort to the friends of France is to die!' hissed
the German captain. 'For this you too shall die! But first you shall
see how it goes with the others.'
"'I fear you not,' retorted the child, pluckily. 'I too can die for
France with a brave heart, and so you shall die one day at the hands
of my dear countrymen, but with a coward's heart.'
"'Ah! You are brave,' jeered the captain.
"'I am a Frenchman,' answered Pierre, stoutly. 'A Frenchman does not
fear to die.'
"'Good! For that I shall give you a chance to live and you shall come
with us and fight for the Fatherland," declared the captain.
"'Bah! That for the Fatherland!' The lad snapped his fingers in the
Prussian's face. Pierre's courage, instead of further angering the
German, appeared to amuse him.
"'We shall see. It is for you to shoot your friend the sergeant. Shoot
him and you shall have your freedom and your life. It is well that a
Frenchman should be put to death by his own. Can you shoot?'
"'I can.'
"'Then here is a rifle. It is loaded. Shoot and shoot true and freedom
is yours, for yourself and the old woman yonder who insulted the
officer of my Emperor.' The captain extended the rifle, butt first,
toward the boy. Pierre was outwardly calm, but within his heart a
storm was raging. Rather to the surprise of the spectators, he took
the weapon, turned it over curiously in his hands, for it was the
first German rifle he had handled, examined the mechanism of the lock,
then raised his eyes to the motionless figure of the French sergeant.
"Pierre smiled and a new light sprang into his eyes.
"'Well?' demanded the captain impatiently. 'Do you shoot or do you
die?'
"'I shoot!' cried the little French boy, his voice high pitched and
shrill.
"Pierre turned like a flash and, raising the weapon, pointed it
straight at the German captain and pulled the trigger.
"No report followed. The rifle had missed fire. And ere Pierre could
make another try the weapon was snatched from his hands and a blow
from the captain's fist again laid him low.
"'Dog!' raged the Prussian officer. 'Now you _shall_ die, and yonder
French sergeant shall be a witness to your punishment. Strip the
blinder from that man's eyes! Bind this boy!'
"'There is no need to bind me. I shall not run away. I am not afraid
to die for France. I am sorry only that I did not kill you,' answered
the lad stoutly. 'I am young--I can better be spared than others.'
"There was no reply to this, but the soldiers were ordered to lead the
child out into the center of the square.
"'If you run you will be shot just the same,' warned the captain.
"'A Frenchman never runs away,' was the spirited retort.
"The firing squad took its place, eight men comprising the squad.
"'Make ready! Take aim!'
"Pierre faced them fearlessly, a smile on his face, his shoulders set
well back, presenting a pathetic but brave little figure as he stood
out there alone, facing death, but unafraid.
"'Fire!'
"'Vive la France!' shouted the lad, waving his cap over his head.
"Eight rifles crashed in volley. And the little figure of brave Pierre
crumpled down to the ground. He had died gloriously. He had died a
man, despite his tender years.
"Wheeling, the squad dispatched the sergeant in the same way and their
desperate work was finished."