Shelter D.A.
By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of Grenadiers
In the low room of the farm-house, with its dingy ceiling supported
by oak beams, everyone was listening in silence. The Germans had
lost Lizerne, but they were still holding out on this side of the
water: Het-sas and Steenstraete. This evening, the Battalion was to
occupy a transversal position, behind the telegraph pole opposite the
bridge-head. The officers, in their dark uniforms, were standing up. In
the dim light, their faces looked paler than usual. Their brass buttons
and their stars shone. Through the curtains of the windows we could see
the green landscape. Only those who had passed through the Lizerne hell
could imagine the impression caused by the idea of returning to it.
All day long, the cannon had been roaring, making the window-panes
rattle. A few shells had come as far as our farm and killed a
Grenadier. I had seen him near the hedge. He was stretched on the
ground, his skull broken in, his white face framed by the blood from
his forehead. Not far from him the dry, ploughed ground had been
lacerated. A man, spade in hand, was looking for the head of the shell.
Our departure took place in silence. In the dim light, our men's red
badges stood out vividly. They went along in Indian file by a path
in the wood. Their heavy tread could be heard as they crossed the
footbridge. They marched on. The black farms, in the darkness, looked
fantastic. There were hedges, rows of willow-trees, and desolate
houses. The framework of only a few of these was still standing. Tiles
cracked under our feet. Then there were paths on which our dark shadows
fell side by side with the poplar trees. From time to time, we heard
the clatter of a metal cup or a stealthy tread on the grass, like that
of an animal going to the river at night. The moon shone very faintly
and the stars looked like silver nails.
A few bullets sang round our ears. One of our fuses rushed into the
darkness with a long, whistling sound. The white star stood out shining
over the landscape and making it look elysian.
We now came to the trench, with its heaps of sacks and up-turned earth.
The traces of the struggle were still visible. Whole trees had been
felled down on the parapet and were now lying, split open, their beams
in the air. We penetrated into a new domain, gliding along in the deep
passages. From time to time a fuse came down with a greenish light and
a graceful, curving movement. It lighted up the tops of the trees and
then searched the coppices. The shadows moved about again, stretched
themselves out and then again all was darkness, the darkness to which
our eyes had once more to get accustomed. We saw some soldiers wearing
blue coats among our men. They were the brave fellows of the 135th. We
could scarcely distinguish them from the others. They hollowed out
niches for themselves in the bank and crouched right down in these
shelters, with their heads almost buried in the bank. They were there
_pêle-mêle_, the dead and the living. Those who were sitting had their
guns between their legs and were dozing. We knocked against one of them
in passing.
"What's the matter?" he exclaimed. "Are we going to the assault?" And
he was up and ready at once.
The tall outlines of the trees now stood out against the sky. We had
reached the entrance of the communication trench. Just as we were
crossing the little bridge, something luminous burst over us and
we suddenly heard the fizzling of a storm of bullets. We had only
just time to lie down flat and wait till the hurricane was over. The
darkness then returned. One by one, we entered the labyrinth of mud
and of crumbling parapets. A prop had been made out of the ruins of a
farm-house, which had been razed to the ground. These ruins did not
look like any other ruins. Among the dark coppices, the scattered
stones looked like white patches.
Our shelter was composed of a number of small wooden boxes, half
covered with earth. In the bluish light of night, our outlines looked
enormous. The moon lighted up, with a vague gleam, this devastated
space, where the shattered, broken-branched trees added their
cataleptic attitudes to the general desolation. Around the shelters,
many of which were no more than tangled rubbish, about fifteen dead
bodies were lying crushed on the ground. In the background was the
Lizerne Mill. A jagged outline could be seen standing out against the
sky.
Our men were wandering about trying to find a place. At the bottom of
a hole, the yellowish light of a candle could be seen, but it was soon
extinguished. The ambulance men were burying the nearest of the dead.
The Chaplain, who looked like a dark shadow in the moonlight, offered
up a prayer. It was in this spot that we were to live for the next
three days.
Our men huddled together on planks of wood with a slight layer of
straw. Each one rolled himself up in his blanket and wedged himself
into his corner. Everyone was silent. Through the open door could be
seen the pale blue of the sky with two stars shining in it. In the
distance, the big cannons were booming all the time. We tried to go on
sleeping as long as possible, stiff though we were. The sun had already
risen. The square of the sky which could be seen through the open door
had gradually become a square of light. Death had not come to us during
the night.
The sun was warm and we lay down on the bare ground behind the
shelter, like so many lizards. The kindly golden light chased away all
bitterness and fatigue. Under our feet, the bodies which had only just
been buried gave a sensation of elasticity to the ground. The full
daylight took away the phantasmagorial appearance of everything, and
our shelters appeared in their true aspect, wretched boxes, made of
pinewood half covered with tufts of grass.
The ground all around us was hollowed out in enormous craters, several
of which were quite close to us. A field all yellow with turnips in
flower crowned the summit, the rest was nothing but brown earth.
A few men at work passed along by the hedge. One by one they ran along,
bending nearly double. They passed near to us, making straight for
the top of the hill. Little clouds of dust, made by bullets, kept
rising at their feet. Their coats could be seen mingling with the
yellowish-green of the turnip field. They then disappeared among the
flowers.
Towards two o'clock the cannonading commenced. The seventy-fives
thundered without ceasing. Our seven-fives accompanied them. Very
soon the Germans began to do their part, and their tens exploded with
a noise that rent the air. Next came the wild-beast yelling of the
shrapnels rushing on to the batteries, the dull noise of the heavy
block-trains, the whizzing of our own shells, which passed quite near
to us and then went on rapidly to lacerate our enemies in their dens.
Then came the bell-like sound of the English howitzers, the fantastical
dance of the seventy-five shells, striking their wild chords on the
trenches, the yelling whistle of the heavy shells which soon began to
fall on the plateau. They exploded near to us, with a heavy crashing
din. The rubbish whirled round in the air with harmonious songs. The
bursting of certain German shrapnels was accompanied by a hubbub like
the cries of wounded men. And then once more came the big shells. The
sky was darkened by the clouds of black dust which rose up in the air
like waterspouts.
The planks of wood were riddled with fragments. The cannonading then
diminished and finally ceased. What was going to happen next? We
listened anxiously and then, suddenly, a machine-gun was to be heard.
This meant the assault, and our hearts were full of anguish. We looked
out into the distance, straight in front of us, sure, however, that we
should see nothing. Then, all at once, by the communication trench, a
whole mass of wounded men arrived. They were pale and panting and many
of them drenched to the bones.
"Oh the wretches, the wretches, they had us, Doctor! It was horrible.
We had scarcely left the trench, when they mowed us down. Some of our
men plunged into the water to save themselves, into that water over
yonder, the stream, I don't know what you call it, and they have been
drowned in that rot. Others who were wounded and were trying to get
back into our lines were finished off by them, finished off, Doctor,
by their machine-guns, men who were dragging themselves along on the
ground."
The machine-gun was silent now. More and more wounded arrived, in
little groups, pursued by the shooting. One of them had his face red
with blood. There was blood and mud everywhere, and on all sides moans
of pain. One poor fellow was sitting in a hole, with bullets in both
feet and his arm shattered. He was holding his arm as one holds a baby,
rocking it and uttering incomprehensible things, as he shook his head.
There were about forty lying either at the back of the shelters or
inside, _pêle-mêle_, amongst our men. They gradually became more calm
and were quiet. Those who could go on farther started off one by one.
The one who had been crying was now shivering in a corner. The darkness
came on again gradually. The assault of the 135th had failed.
In the night, the dance began once more, and this time, through the
chinks, we could see the red light of the explosions. Suddenly a shell
made a breach over our heads.
"Is anyone hit?" we asked.
"No one," came the reply.
Another one came presently, and then others. We heard them fall and
the ground shook. We tried to go to sleep, but, with our hearts beating
fast and our limbs cramped, sleep would not come. More shells arrived.
We thought they were exploding farther away, but no, that one was
nearer. Then another farther away and, after this, silence again. We
were tired of hoping against hope and we all pulled our blankets up and
covered our faces.
The dawn was slow in coming. There were no more illusions possible for
us. As long as the Germans were on this side of the water, life would
be unbearable for us. And yet it was a beautiful day and a bird was
singing on the broken branch of a tree. It was so good to be alive!
Thanks to the shells round here, the graves were ready made. We put
the Grenadiers and French who were in the neighborhood into them.
Our domain was very limited, and was skirted on every side by death.
Presently breakfast was served, bread and jam, cold coffee in aluminium
goblets. These were the usual rations, for we had to live in spite of
everything. We yawned as we looked out and saw the thin brown lines of
the German trenches in front of us.
In the afternoon, the aëroplanes were flying about over our heads in
the blue sky, and presently the azure road was riddled with white
spots. We were all watching them, but we soon had to go in and take
shelter, as the splinters fell about with a whirring sound. One of our
machines then appeared in pursuit of the others and this was intensely
exciting for us. It rushed along like a bird of prey, but unfortunately
its victim had time to escape ... and so the time passed.
Once more the dance began, and the noise, this time, was formidable
and uninterrupted. Again the big shells tore up the ground near us,
flinging into the air enormous clouds which hid the light from us.
The rubbish fell down like rain, the ground trembled, and our huts
shook. The next one came along with a terrible, hissing sound, and
then another and another. We wondered whether the cannon would never
cease again. For days now, we had heard it like this. At last there was
silence once more. We could scarcely believe it at first. The backs of
our necks ached and our ears were on the alert. What was the meaning
of this wonderful silence? We could not hear the machine-gun. Well,
then ... our assault must have succeeded.... We could not believe this.
It was too good to be true. In spite of everything, our breasts were
swelling with joy and the men burst out singing the _Marseillaise_.
Oh, if we could only know what had happened! Presently a soldier came
our way.
"What's the news?" cried out our men. He looked at us in a dazed way,
holding his metal cup in his hand.
"News of the assault?" he said. "It's been put off."
* * * * *
It was night and, on the Steenstraete side, there was a house in
flames, throwing huge red lights on the sky. The fuses, with their
ideal colouring, rose silently again in the air with their gentle
curves. Our long serpents, with their golden spangles, rushed out into
the darkness, letting a star of pale light fall in the air.
By gliding along, from shell hole to shell hole, it was possible to
get as far as the mill. In the communication trench, a dark, crushed,
charred body had sunk down. Farther on, there were paving stones that
had been torn up and rubbish, from all sides, that had accumulated. The
hillock was torn open and the opening led out to the light night. The
shadows here were motionless and the very things looked dead. It was
absolute solitude, a terrible picture of war, the strange domain of
fear.
* * * * *
Of the five shelters, only one was intact. Two of them were nothing
but heaps of planks. The ear was now accustomed to all the noises; it
had learnt to know when danger was near and every sound had its own
special significance in our minds. Every afternoon the action began
again, it was always the same thing. Weariness made our heads and limbs
seem heavy. Life was passing by in this way now. From time to time,
delegates went to the different companies, bending down almost double,
tricking danger.
In the shelters, a fool was telling extraordinary tales, tales of
riotous life and of quarrels. Everyone laughed. His face was all awry,
but he would not upon any account laugh himself. There was a red-haired
young man there, too, with long hair. He was pale and sickly. He was
listening anxiously to all the sounds outside. Why in the world did he
think so much of his life. He began arguing when it was his turn to
start and then rushed out into the danger, as though his fate were a
thing of great importance. We are all of us like that.
Some of the men were asleep, others were eating, and a fierce-looking
Grenadier was polishing the head of a shell.
As a matter of fact, we could really have lived there a long time, it
was only a question of habit and custom.
To our right, the big green shells kept bursting fairly regularly on a
group of houses. Farther on, shell-mines kept falling. No one paid any
attention to these now. They came at their own sweet will on our side.
Suddenly, a long, dark mass was to be seen rushing along and turning
round and round above a roof. Was it a man that had been flung into the
air? No, it was a shell that had not exploded and which had bounded
again on to the footpath. The darkness came over us for the third time.
It slowly changed the luminous tints of the sky into pastel-like grey
harmonies, which grew slowly fainter and ended in darkness.
Suddenly, red fuses were flung into the air. An attack had begun. In
a few seconds, all the cannons were thundering together. The German
shrapnels exploded four at a time in a luminous mass of absinthe green,
in the centre of which were red balls. They rent the air with a huge
noise. The seventy-fives rushed out yelling. In the distance, their
sudden flames were like gigantic will-o'-the-wisps. A machine-gun could
now be heard, and then a second one, and a third. Some soldiers of the
418th passed along in close file, dressed in pale blue which mingled
with the darkness. Their bayonets glittered in the green light of the
fuses, and then again, with mad yells, the "big" shells appeared on
the plateau, flinging into the air opaque clouds which gathered round
us. Gun firing could be heard crackling all along the line. An immense
brazier had been lighted at Lizerne. It grew bigger and bigger. And
among the piles of dark night clouds, above Steenstraete in flames, a
blood-red moon arose.