We were crossing the Meuse. The sun had gone down and the river,
winding its way between its reedy banks and marshy islands in the
afterglow of the crimson western sky, looked as though it was running
with blood. To-morrow, or perhaps the day after, the appearance may
have become reality. I do not know why these blood-red reflections in
the water affected me so much as this last moment of the evening, but
so it was.
Night fell--a clear night, in which I uneasily sought for searchlights
among the stars. By the wayside, in one of the army cattle parks,
countless herds lay sleeping. The country would have been absolutely
still and silent had it not been for the muffled rumble of our column
as we marched along. The last reflections of the daylight and the first
beams of the moon, just rising in the east, were welded together in a
weird, diffused light.
We were marching eastwards, and, as the road skirted the dark mass of
a steep hill, the moon rose clear ahead over the gloomy pine-trees,
which stood out like silhouettes on the horizon. Soon the battery
entered a dark wood, where the drivers had difficulty in finding the
way. Nobody spoke. Occasionally the moon peeped through the trees, and
showed up a horseman. It almost seemed as if the yellow light threw off
a palpable golden powder; the brasswork of the equipment and the tin
mugs of the men shone as though they were gilded. One man passed, then
another, and the shadows, clear cut on the road, seemed to form part of
the silhouettes of the horsemen and magnify them. Of the rest of the
column, lost in the night of the forest, nothing could be seen.
We had been told that the enemy was not far off, somewhere in the
plain stretching beyond the hills. At every cross-roads we were afraid
lest we should take the wrong turning and find ourselves in the German
lines. Besides, this first march of the campaign, at night-time,
had something uncanny about it which scared us a little in spite of
ourselves.
The column came to a halt just outside a village. Troops were camping
on both sides of the road, and lower down, in one of the fields a
gloomy artillery park had been formed. Despite the hour--nearly
midnight--the heat was oppressive, and the stars were lightly veiled by
a thin mist. The bivouac fires cast flickering shadows of soldiers in
varying stages of undress, some of them naked to the waist.
A little farther on, in a meadow where the 10th Battery was already
encamped for the night--men and horses lying in the damp grass--we
parked our guns.
We had to lie on the bare ground, and between drivers and gunners
a competition in cunning at once arose as to who was to have the
horse-cloths. Most of the men stretched themselves out under the
ammunition wagons and guns, where the dampness of the night was less
penetrating. But I was still on stable duty, and had to keep watch on
the horses, which were tied side by side to a picket-line stretched
between two stakes. The animals not only kicked and bit each other,
but their collars kept getting loose, and one or two, succeeding in
throwing them off, ambled off into the fields. I spent the night in
wild chases. One little black mare in particular led me a dance for
several hours, and I only caught her at last by rustling some oats in
the bottom of a nose-bag.
Grasping my whip, and wet up to the knees with dew, I had surely
fulfilled my task as stable-picket conscientiously.
_Monday, August 10_
At 3 a.m. the grey shadow of a dirigible passed overhead beneath the
stars. Friend or enemy?
At daybreak the park began to stir. Men draped in their rugs emerged
from between the gun-wheels and from underneath the limbers and
stretched themselves, yawning. We set about digging hearths and
fetching wood and water, and before long coffee was steaming in the
camp kettles.
On the Verdun road infantry regiments--off to the firing-line no
doubt--were already defiling, the long red-and-blue column rippling
like the back of a huge caterpillar. The battalions were hid, for a
moment, by the cottages and trees of the village. But farther ahead, on
the corn-clad slopes of the hills, one could just distinguish, in spite
of the distance, the movements of troops marching on the thin white
ribbon of a road.
We waited for the order to harness.
The meadow in which we had camped for the night sloped down, on the
one side, into marshy ground watered by a stream issuing from a mill
and running through the rank grass, and was bounded on the other by
a rampart of wheat-sheaves. To the east a high hill of symmetrical
contour, covered with yellow barley and tawny wheat, gave one the
impression of a golden mountain shining in the sun.
Behind the horses tied together in parallel lines the harness made
black patches in the grass. Some of us had slept there under our rugs.
Saddles, propped up on their pommels, served as pillows to the men,
who, half undressed, with bare chests, slept soundly. I would willingly
have slept too, for I was tired out with running about all night, but
I could not help thinking of my mother, and of the anxiety the news of
the hecatombs of Alsace must have caused her. She had no idea of my
whereabouts and would be certain to think that I should be in the thick
of any fighting in progress.
On the road columns of artillery succeeded the regiments of the line.
It was nine o'clock, but so far no sound of battle had yet reached us.
A driver, shaking his rug, woke me, and I started up. In my turn I
roused Déprez, who was sleeping near me. Was it the guns? No, not yet.
Officials news came that the Alsace army, whose headquarters were
at Mulhouse, had been defeated by the French in a great battle at
Altkirch. The beginning of the Revenge!... But there was talk of fifty
thousand dead....
Held spellbound by a sort of magnetic fascination Déprez and I riveted
our gaze on the lofty line of hills to the east which stood between us
and Destiny. Yonder were others like ourselves, masses of men in the
plains and in the woods, men who would kill us if we did not kill them.
Overcome by the heat, I allowed my thoughts to dwell on these and
similar reflections, and in vain endeavoured to banish from my mind the
horrible picture of the fifty thousand men lying dead on the fields of
Alsace. Eventually I fell asleep.
* * * * *
They have just killed, by means of a revolver-shot behind the ear, a
horse which had broken its leg. The carcass is going to be cut up, and
the best portions distributed among the battery detachments. There
seems no likelihood of going into action to-day.
* * * * *
The soup-kettles had been put on the fires. On the side of the hill,
where the corn stood in sheaves, the men were building straw huts in
which to pass the night.
As the sun sank, damp vapours began to rise from the stream and the
marshy ground adjoining it. Side by side on our bed of straw Déprez and
I, booted and spurred, our revolver holsters bruising our hips, fell
asleep with our faces upturned to the stars, which seemed to shine more
brightly than usual in the eastern sky.
_Tuesday, August 11_
Shortly after dawn we were ready to start. Some of the 130th Infantry
had arrived at the next village, called Ville-devant-Chaumont, to take
up their quarters there. Pending the order to advance I entered into
conversation with a little red-haired foxy-faced sergeant:
"Ah," said he, "so you're from Mayenne.... Well, I don't know whether
many of the 130th will ever get back there.... There was a scrap
yesterday.... Slaughter simply awful!... My battalion wasn't touched,
but the two others!... There are some companies which don't count
more than ten men, and haven't a single officer left.... It's their
machine-guns which are so frightful.... But what the devil can you
expect? Two battalions against a whole division!"
"But why didn't the third battalion join in?"
"Blessed if I know.... You never know the reason of these things."
And he added:
"Some of our chaps were splendid.... Lieutenant X, for example.... He
jumped up, drew his sword, and opening his tunic he shouted to his men:
"Come on, lads!..." And he was killed on the spot.... The flag?...
That was taken by the enemy, retaken by one of our captains, and then
again captured. Finally, a chap with a good-conduct badge got hold of
it, and managed to hide it under a bridge before he died. One of the
sections of the 115th found it there.... And then the artillery came up
at last.... Three batteries of the 31st. They soon made the blighters
clear off.... They abandoned two batteries, what's more!"
* * * * *
Orders came to unharness. What a heat! Transparent vapours rose from
the ground and made the horizon quiver. From time to time we heard the
muffled sound of the guns but more often we mistook the noise of the
carts on the road for firing. Fleecy white clouds forming above the
crests of the hills gave one the impression of shells bursting. For a
moment their appearance was most deceptive.
I saw one of the men of the 130th coming back from the firing-line in
a wretched condition, without cap, pack, or arms. It seemed wonderful
that he should have managed to drag himself so far. With staring,
frightened eyes he looked nervously from one side to the other. The
gunners surrounded him as he stood there, with bent shoulders and
hanging head, but he only answered their questions by expressive
gestures.
"Done for!" he murmured. "Done for!"
We couldn't hear anything else. His lips kept moving:
"Done for!... Done for!"
Down he flopped in the middle of us, and immediately fell asleep,
his mouth wide open and his features contracted as if with pain. Two
gunners carried him into a neighbouring barn.
I heard to-day that a priest of Ville-devant-Chaumont had been arrested
on a charge of espionage and sent to Verdun.
We availed ourselves of our leisure in order to wash our linen and have
a bath in the river. Then, stretched naked on the grass, we waited
until the sun had dried our shirts, socks, and underlinen, which lay
spread out around us.
_Wednesday, August 12_
The French are fond of heroic legends. I have now found out the truth
about the affair in which two battalions were said to have been cut up,
and there is not the least resemblance to the highly coloured yarn of
the little fox-faced sergeant.
On August 10 the officers of the 130th had not the slightest suspicion
that the enemy were so close. A few men were taken by surprise as they
were going down to the river, unarmed and half undressed. Immediately
afterwards the fight began, and the 130th defended themselves bravely
against superior numbers, at first without any support from the
artillery, which, having received no orders, remained in its quarters.
At last three batteries of the 31st arrived and succeeded in repelling
the German attack. We were the victors.
As for Lieutenant X, who, according to the sergeant, had been killed as
he stood bare-chested encouraging his men to attack, it appears that,
in reality, he fell into the river called the Loison. The chill of the
water, together with the excitement of the first brush with the enemy,
set up congestion, but he is now reported to be perfectly fit again.
That is fortunate, for he is a valuable officer.
Several of his men, charging too soon, also fell into the river, which
flows right across the fields between very low banks. There they
remained as if entrenched, with the water up to their waists, and
fought as best they could. The flag of the 130th was never even taken
out of its oil-skin case.
The whole day was spent in sleeping, cooking, and in bathing in the
river. Some of the drivers with their teams were told off to transport
the wounded of the 130th to Verdun.
When night fell we stretched ourselves out on the grass under the clear
sky and sang in chorus until we gradually fell asleep.
If only those we have left behind anxiously waiting for news could have
heard us!
_Thursday, August 13_
To-day some of the 130th brought back a grey German military coat, a
pair of boots, a Uhlan's helmet, and a sort of round infantryman's cap,
looking like a small cheese. These spoils were hung up in a barn, and
attracted a crowd of gunners. They belong to a sergeant-major who was
proudly exhibiting them to the spectators, calling special attention to
a small rent in the back of the coat.
"That's where the bullet went in that did for old Steinberg," said he.
"His name's marked inside.... See?"
And he drew himself up, beaming.
_Friday, August 14_
We had started off again at dawn, and now stood waiting for orders. The
Captain had sent the battery forward down the lane leading to the main
road to Verdun. The horses splashed about in the water running out from
a drinking-trough hard by, and spattered us liberally with mud. After
waiting till the sun was well up, we unbridled and gave the teams some
oats.
Reserve regiments of the Army Corps began to file by--the 301st, 303rd,
and 330th. The men were white with dust up to the knees. Stubbly beards
of eight days' growth darkened their faces and gave them a haggard
appearance. Their coats, opened in front and folded back under their
shoulder-straps, showed glimpses of hairy chests, the veins in their
necks standing out like whipcord under the weight of their packs. These
reservists looked grave, resolute, and rather taciturn.
They swung by with a noise like a torrent rushing over pebbles, the
sight of our guns bringing a smile of pleasure to their faces. The
foremost battalions climbed up the hill. There were so many men that
nothing could be seen of the road, nor even of the red breeches. The
moving human ribbon scintillated with reflections cast by kettles,
shovels, and picks.
We had filled our water-bags, and some of the soldiers, as they
streamed past, replenished their drinking tins from them. Then they
strode on, their lips glued to the brims, restraining the swing of
their step in order not to lose a drop of the precious liquid.
At last the battery moved on. But it was only to camp at Azannes, about
a mile south-east of Ville-devant-Chaumont, where we were hardly any
nearer to the enemy. On the road a continual cloud of dust was raised
by guns and wagons, motors full of superior officers, and squadrons of
cavalry escorting red-tabbed Staffs. The horses were smothered in it,
and our dark uniforms soon became grey, while our eyebrows and unshorn
chins looked as if they had been powdered. Paris motor-omnibuses,
transformed into commissariat wagons, put the final touch as they
lumbered by, and left us as white as the road itself.
* * * * *
"Limber up!"
"What?"
"Limber up, quick now, come along!"
The order was repeated by the N.C.O.'s, and the Captain, who passed us
spurring his horse, said simply:
"We are going into action."
Then, followed by the gun-commanders, trumpeters, and battery-leaders,
he set off at a gallop.
We passed through Azannes, where we were to have camped. It is a
wretched-looking village, full of manure-heaps, and composed of
low-built cottages eloquent of the fact that here no one has thought it
worth while to undertake building or repair work of any kind. It is not
that the surrounding country is barren, but the perpetual threat of war
and invasion has nipped all initiative in the bud. The poorer one is
the less one has to lose.
After passing Azannes the column lapsed into silence. The road skirted
the cemetery, in the walls of which the infantry, at every few yards,
had knocked loopholes through which we caught glimpses of graves,
chapels, and crosses. At the foot of the walls lay heaps of rubble and
mortar. Farther on, near the edge of a wood, the field had been seared
by a narrow trench, covered with lopped-off branches bearing withered
leaves, and showing up against the fresh green grass like a yellow
gash.
In front of the trench barbed wire had been stretched. The enemy,
therefore, was presumably not far off.
Amid the monotonous rumble of the carriages we tried to collect our
thoughts. The prospect of the first engagement brought with it an
apprehension and dread which clamoured for recognition in each man's
mind. There is no denying the fact.
The battery rolled on its way through a large wood. The road, almost
blindingly white in the midday sun, formed a striking contrast to the
arch-shaped avenues of sombre trees, whose green plumes towered above
us at a giddy height.
By the side of the road stood a horse with drooping head and the
viscous discharge due to strangles running from his nostrils; he did
not even budge as the guns and wagons thundered on their way. It seemed
almost a miracle that the bones of the poor beast's haunches had not
broken through his skin. His flanks, heaving spasmodically, seemed
to meet behind his ribs, as if they had been emptied of flesh and
entrails. He was a pitiful sight. In the shade of a bridle-path yet
another abandoned horse was still browsing.
Between two clumps of trees lay a pond bordered by reeds and rushes,
its surface shimmering like a silver mirror--an effect which was
heightened by the dark woodlands in the background. In the distance the
magnificent line of lofty hills which had hidden the horizon from us at
Ville-devant-Chaumont, and which we had now flanked, formed an azure
setting to the picture. On one side of the road stood a farmhouse. In
a small paddock near the flood-gates of the pond we saw a freshly dug
grave in the shade of an elder-bush. A cross, roughly fashioned out of
a couple of branches tied together, was planted in the newly turned
soil, and a ruled leaf torn out of a pocket-book, stuck on to some
splinter of the wood, bore a name roughly written in pencil.
On emerging from the forest our batteries, which up to then had been in
column of route, rapidly deployed down the side of a long valley, half
hidden by the oat-crops, through which infantry, whose presence could
only be guessed, caused ripples to flow like those raised by a puff of
wind on still water.
Where was the enemy? What were these positions worth, and from what
point could they be observed? Was the infantry on ahead protecting us?
In a fever of excitement we formed up in battery in a neighbouring
meadow. The limbers retired to the rear and took cover in the woods.
Bréjard at once ordered us to complete the usual protection afforded
by the gun-shields and ammunition wagons by piling up large sods of
turf which we hacked up with our picks. As far as the eye could reach
stretched the motionless oats, like masses of molten metal under a
sky of unbroken blue. As the gun-layers could not find as much as a
tree or sheaf to serve as an aiming point we had to plant a spade in
front of the battery. I should not have suspected the strength of the
artillery--more than sixty guns--waiting for the enemy in this field,
had I not seen the batteries take up their positions, and had it not
been for the observation-ladders upon which, perched like large black
insects on the points of so many grass-blades, the gun-commanders were
to be seen surveying the land to the north-east.
We were ready for action, and lying behind our guns awaited the word
"Fire!" No sound of battle was audible.
A gunnery officer brought some order to the Captain, and the latter,
waving his képi, signalled for the limbers to be brought up.
"Hallo! What's up now?"
"We're off," answered Bréjard, who had overheard the orders.
"Aren't the Germans coming then?"
"I don't know. That officer told the Captain that after this the fourth
group would be attached to the seventh division."
"Well, and what then?"
"Well, the fourth group has got to go."
"Where?"
"Probably to camp at Azannes."
Rather disappointed at having done nothing we returned westwards by the
same road, bathed in an aureole of crimson light cast by the setting
sun.
The horse with the strangles was now lying down in the ditch. He was
still breathing, and from time to time tossed his head in order to
shake off the wasps which collected in yellow clusters round his eyes
and nostrils.
We encamped at Azannes, and the horses, tethered under the plum-trees
planted in fives, wearied by the march, the dust, and the heat, let me
rest and dream away my four hours' duty.
The night was clear, illuminated by the Verdun searchlights which
stretched golden fingers into the sky. A magnificent mid-August night,
scintillating with constellations and alive with shooting stars which
left long phosphorescent tails behind them.
The moon rose, and with difficulty broke through the dense foliage of
the plum-trees. The camp remained dark except for occasional patches
of light on the grass and on the backs of the horses as they stood
sleeping. My fellow-sentry was lying at the foot of a pear-tree,
wrapped in his greatcoat. In front of me the plain was lit up by the
moon, and the meadows were veiled in a white mist. Both armies, with
fires extinguished, were sleeping or watching each other.
_Saturday, August 15_