_At the Marne--in the maw of death._ It was dark, and rained. From all
directions one heard in the darkness the wounded calling, crying, and
moaning. The wounded we had with us were likewise moaning and crying.
All wanted to have their wounds dressed, but we had no more bandages.
We tore off pieces of our dirty shirts and placed the rags on those
sickening wounds. Men were dying one after the other. There were no
doctors, no bandages; we had nothing whatever. You had to help the
wounded and keep the French off at the same time. It was an unbearable,
impossible state of things. It rained harder and harder. We were wet
to our skins. We fired blindly into the darkness. The rolling fire of
rifles increased, then died away, then increased again. We sappers were
placed among the infantry. My neighbor gave me a dig in the ribs. "I
say," he called out.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Who are you?"
"A sapper."
"Come here," he hissed. "It gives you an uncanny feeling to be alone in
this hell of a night. Why are you here too?--They'll soon come again,
those over there; then there'll be fine fun again. Do you hear the
others cry?"
He laughed. Suddenly he began again: "I always shoot at those until
they leave off crying--that's great fun."
Again he laughed, that time more shrilly than before.
I knew what was the matter. He had become insane. A man passed with
ammunition. I begged him to go at once and fetch the section leader.
The leader, a lieutenant of the infantry, came up. I went to meet him
and told him that my neighbor was continually firing at the wounded,
was talking nonsense, and was probably insane. The lieutenant placed
himself between us. "Can you see anything?" he asked the other man.
"What? See? No; but I hear them moaning and crying, and as soon as I
hit one--well, he is quiet, he goes to sleep--" The lieutenant nodded
at me. He took the gun away from the man. But the latter snatched it
quickly away again and jumped out of the trench. From there he fired
into the crowd of wounded men until, a few seconds after, he dropped
down riddled by several bullets.
(Here the soldier gives a wonderful description of the rout and flight
from the Battle of the Marne which is too long to be included in this
collection, but which the reader will find complete, in his book: "A
Deserter's War Experiences."--EDITOR.)