the last distribution of stores had just taken place—biscuits, haversack rations, and iron rations. cartridges too, fifteen packets a head; a pretty tough load, in addition to everything else. a lot of men were grousing about where they should put them.
the worst of it was that there was some surplus. the company commander who was passing said:
"you're not going to leave those behind, mind!"
i took two extra packets, and guillaumin four. he remarked:
"this is the most necessary part of your equipment, you chaps, don't you make any mistake about that!"
he had few imitators. playoust, who was prowling round, jeered.
"for the bosches? but my dear fellow you won't see any for six weeks!"
it was not at all encouraging. lamalou happened to turn up, and as an old stager, at once exclaimed:
"shove one along, and let's 'ave a look!"
he had formerly been in one of the flying columns in morocco where the replenishment of ammunition was a difficulty. guillaumin threw him a packet.
"catch!"
the other caught it in mid air, then another, and[pg 132] another, five, ten, fifteen. that doubled his load and he went on shouting.
"another! and another! just to make 'em dance!"
his example was decisive. five minutes later there was nothing left of the heap.
"the creature knows how to make himself useful!" i thought. it was a pity he drank so much! he had just got into new and serious trouble. a scandal in a pub, as usual—the officer on rounds had reported him—he had been imprisoned—and the company sergeant-major was innocently congratulating himself upon having got rid of him!
but the captain got him out, and made a point of having a heart-to-heart talk with him. what could he have threatened him with? with leaving him at the dep?t i think. the other had to promise to be good, he reappeared triumphant.
"a regular brick, the captain."
ravelli could not get over it.
at two o'clock i began to get ready; we were to start at four. i was fully equipped; nothing was missing. my pockets were stuffed with the endless little necessaries for which there was no room elsewhere: tooth-brush, medicine-case, string, pocket-knife, lighter, electric torch. bouillon had conscientiously tidied me up and cleaned my equipment. in consideration of what i owed him, i had tipped him ten francs. he hesitated. it was a large sum! i insisted upon his taking it. i did not like being indebted to people.
i was alone in our room. i had just slipped my swollen pack over my shoulder. my water-bottle[pg 133] was lying on a shelf above me. i reached out my hand to take it. ugh! it slipped out of my hand, and fell on to the tiles.
damn—oh, damn. supposing it leaked!
i ran to a tap and began to fill it.
yes, there was no doubt about it. it was done for!
i was in despair. nothing worse could have happened to me. i knew the incomparable value of a few drops of moisture at critical moments. when you are exhausted and choked by the sun and the dust, there is nothing like a drop of water on a piece of sugar, or a thimbleful of rum to revive you. and on a route march too you are sustained by the mere thought that you are carrying with you this source of refreshment. and i who had taken such care, and was so pleased at having this clean well-corked water-bottle.... what odiously bad luck! my whole campaign seemed to me to be poisoned by it....
bouillon arrived on the scene. directly i had told him, distractedly, of my misfortune.
"good heavens!" he said, "that it should 'appen just now! it's far too late to get it soldered!"
i sighed. he looked round the room.
"w'y not sneak one?"
as i shrugged my shoulders. he continued:
"i'll undertake the job if yer like?"
"but how?"
"oh, i'll get one from someone or other."
"you mustn't touch guillaumin's things, mind."
"no, 'e's in the section. wot abaht this one?"
"de valpic's?"
"all right! wait a minute!"
"but i say, he...?"
i hesitated.
[pg 134]
"he would notice it! the cases are marked, look...."
"don't you go an' worry yerself abaht that now! you've only got to change them! you go an' keep an eye on the door...."
i went and watched the corridor. i was consumed by a lively remorse. but what did it matter! each one must fend for himself! he would have to get out of the difficulty as best he could. after all there was nothing more usual in the regiment than these sly thefts. why, someone had relieved me of one of my brushes only the day before yesterday! i blamed myself for my horrible selfishness, but i had practised it for so long. the opportunity was too tempting! anything rather than to suffer, hour after hour, from thirst or the fear of thirst! and did i not promise myself—hypocrite that i was—to share my ration of water with the comrade i had despoiled?
in the twinkling of an eye bouillon had dexterously drawn the two bottles out of their cloth cases, and effected the exchange.
"nobody will ever be any the wiser!"
de valpic came in soon after and noticed nothing.
i can hear the whistle. quick march! we shook ourselves.... that was a never-to-be-forgotten moment.
i was in the rear of the section. i considered our column; expressions and attitudes at that moment imprinted themselves on my memory. fifteen yards in front at the head of the section guillaumin was marching along with his usual swing. i ran an eye over my half-sections. here were gaudéreaux and trichet; there was judsi, the buffoon, giving an[pg 135] imitation of the goose step; lamalou with his képi à la knut. loriot, the man with the rupture, gloomy and already dragging his leg along affectedly; my corporals, donnadieu, a little pale, sandy-haired man gripping the butt of his rifle convulsively. bouguet, extremely fit, turning round to see that all his men were there.
it gave one the impression of a holiday parade. i have mentioned the windows decorated with bunting, the men's rifles and packs too were ornamented with little flags. and the flowers! in one section, trichet, who was a gardener by trade, had procured great bundles of them. they had been distributed among the different half-sections. the other sergeants had been given roses or dahlias by their men. i had been forgotten, and when bouillon, who was annoyed about it, had brought me some geraniums just as we were starting, i refused them with thanks! quite unnecessary! i alone was clear-headed. you would have thought that i alone knew to what a sinister revel we were hastening.
left! right! we were all marching at the same pace, towards our mysterious destiny. for how many of us had fate signed the order of arrest! i tried to pick out the first victims. was it that block-head—henry, i think, they called him—who would be picked up in a fortnight's time, with his leg or head torn off? a big dark fellow was laughing, showing his teeth in a huge guffaw. i mentally put him down as not being one of those who would come back. this ghastly game fascinated me.
on getting to the main street we halted for a time and waited to take our place in the regiment. the bugles passed by.
[pg 136]
sol mi: sol do!
la classe s'en va!
then we followed the stream.
a line had formed three-deep along each pavement. all f——, all the neighbouring country was crowded there. our departure effected the country even more than that of the regulars. these men from twenty-five to thirty years old were the married youth, who had taken root and founded a family. drawn up in the doorways, or leaning from the windows, women and children, with all their heart, were shouting:
"long live the 3rd...!"
a territorial called out:
"halloa boys? we're coming on the day after to-morrow!"
"hm! at a safe distance!" judsi retorted gaily.
the men waved and smiled at their relations and friends who had come up, but nothing further; there was no chance of hanging behind, or falling out. even judsi soon gave up his tomfoolery; each one felt instinctively that a brave bearing would influence the people's confidence.
the clamour round us continued to increase:
"long live france! long live the 3rd...."
the distant voice of the bugles only reached us in snatches now, but we marched in step all the same. the collective excitement went to my head. i marched with my eye fixed in front of me, my rifle glued to my shoulder, a soldier among these soldiers.
when we got into the avenue de la gare, i caught sight of de valpic, guide to the 2nd section. he had half-turned round, and was leaning to one side, with an anxious expression. i suddenly thought of his[pg 137] water-bottle, filled just as we were leaving. drops must be trickling from it now at every step.
i was ashamed of myself. i despised myself. if i did not go quite as far as to vow to make amends for this villainy—and how i should have set about it i do not know—at least i swore that it should be my last; yes, the very last.
i was going to be born anew, and quite different. my heart was beating more warmly. carried away by the rapidity of the pace, uplifted by the untiring acclamations of the crowd, it seemed to me that i was out-distancing the man i had been.
