what made me a little anxious was the need for sleep manifest in nearly everyone. sentries were to relieve each other in definite order—but what guarantee was there? in another hour all these men, who were yawning now, would be snoring!
i myself was dying to go to sleep. in view of the gravity of the situation i encouraged myself in the idea of going the rounds every hour. but the lieutenant came to find us and told us of his intention of mounting guard himself. he asked us, in a friendly way, to do the same on our side. we three between us would ensure the safety of the sector.
we must needs bow to necessity. i was tempted to admire henriot; he showed the vigilance of a real leader. then i smiled. it was no doubt the effect of the minute received that morning concerning responsibilities.
what an interminable vigil that was. the men slept like logs, including, to begin with at all events, several of the sentries. i can answer for it that i shook them in a way that made them sit up.
when i got back to the picket i had chosen, i had all i could do to keep awake myself. a helmet of lead seemed to encircle my temples. i had a headache and felt overpoweringly drowsy. i dozed off[pg 448] about midnight, but not for long, luckily! the respite did me good.
hour after hour passed by. it was a clear night, though the moon made only a late appearance. the landscape was lacking in any conspicuous features. there was nothing that caught one's eye right away to the horizon, which might be near or far.
it would not be long before daybreak. we were freezing where we stood. b-r-r! b-r-r-r! i shook myself and rubbed my shirt against my skin to warm myself. my attention had wandered.
guillaumin suddenly appeared. i had not seen him coming.
he said to me:
"not noticed anything?"
"no. have you?"
"yes, for the last few minutes.... i think there's something doing."
we strained our ears for a few thrilling seconds. dead silence. guillaumin admitted that he must have been mistaken, and apologised. but at this point bouillon came crawling along in a hurry.
"here come the bosches. look! look!"
yes. there was a moving line yonder, cutting across the pale grey of the stubble.
what orders would the lieutenant give? we went to look for him, quickly rousing the poilus on our way. they got up, rubbing their eyes, and noiselessly seized their rifles at the order to stand to arms.a magnificently monotonous memory, our march that day. it lasted from nine o'clock in the morning until six o'clock at night. its scene was a vast tableland, completely exposed, fields of beetroot alternating with fields of corn and oats. the harvest had been got in nearly everywhere. there were groups of stacks by the roadside.
directly we came out of the woods, we were marked by the hostile artillery. their object was to stop us at any price by their tirs de barrage. the rumbling went on all day without a pause. it is impossible to give any idea of the horror of it. by midday, everyone of us was deaf.
the diabolical jaws of the horizon! big and little german guns were talking. our 75's retorted—rather feebly, it is true. the distance must have been too great, and apparently did not silence a single one of the enemy's batteries.
this plain was a hell, a hell: iron and fire, every imaginable peril, a conspiracy of the elements. to begin with, there was a continuous flight of teuton aeroplanes above our heads, dropping bombs of different kinds, which fell with a muffled sound. the din of the big "coal-boxes," the shriek of the 77's, the[pg 442] thunder-clap of explosions, and the columns of tainted smoke staking out the ground.
our regiment went on advancing; so did one on our right and one on our left, and others farther away. our soldiers were swarming as far as eye could see, a calm and regular deployment. we marched for a long time by platoons, in columns of four; then by platoons two deep; and at last in skirmishing order; each officer, each n.c.o., each connecting file in his place. the silence and impeccable order were in striking contrast with the blind fury of the projectiles. mind against matter.
all our men had realised the solemnity of the task. three quarters of them were experienced heroes, who had already fought ten times; the rest were raised to the same moral level by virtue of their surroundings. there could be nothing more impressive than this sustained and irresistible advance, under shell fire, of thousands and thousands of men who never fired a single shot.
by a miracle, our casualties, on the whole, were not very severe. what unflagging inspiration was shown by our leaders of all ranks! imperceptible, serpentine movements protected each unit in turn from the mortal line of fire. how many times did we see a broadside of four "coal-boxes" fall just where we had been hardly thirty seconds before, or else where we would have been but for a fortunate zigzag! what hazard protected us? i protest that one was tempted to bow before a providence, like de valpic. the men betrayed this feeling, murmuring:
"we are blessed!"
we advanced at the double, lay down and got up again, just as at man?uvres. what am i saying?[pg 443] better than that. we kept our intervals and direction with incredible exactitude. there was not a straggler or funk among us. all honour to these proud troops, these splendid soldiers! they are dead—dead, nearly all of them. they appeared to feel, in the vague intuition of their flesh, in the vibration of the nourishing air, that their end, even if they survived to-morrow's sanguinary triumph, was inscribed on the pages of the disastrous winter or the fatal spring to come. there was no sadness or despair, but something indescribably resigned and shy crept into their gait. joking was out of date. judsi himself had put a damper on his animation. we kept on and gained ground. at one point—the wonders could not be repeated indefinitely—a single rafale on our left mowed down about forty men. we did not slacken our pace—hardly turned our heads.
we went on in a rising tide, and i thought how the sight of this inexorable multitude rolling towards them, like god's judgment, must strike terror into the hearts of the enemy's gunners.
at the end of the day we neared a wood. i was very much afraid lest the hostile infantry might be hidden there, watching for us. those barricades of trees looked most suspicious. our reconnoitring patrol went on ahead of us. i trembled for their safety. the rest of us lay down and waited in an agony of fear. not a shot was fired. what a relief it was when the wood turned out to be unoccupied—by living men, at all events.
when we, in our turn, penetrated into it, we found it strewn with dead bodies. what a struggle must have raged there during the last few days! there[pg 444] was not much undergrowth, which made it propitious for hand-to-hand fighting. the scene was re-enacted in my mind. the bosches about to continue their defensive organisation, surprised by the attack of the rifle brigade—our dead bore this uniform. the furious onslaught with the sword. we had driven them back at the point of the bayonet and massacred them wholesale. in advancing, we came upon heaps of germans. we had lost a great many men, too, but they had cleared the way for us. we were duly grateful to them and the men stepped carefully and reverently over their remains as they advanced in single file.
"pore old chaps!" sighed icard. "you're havin' a rest now and it's our turn to do the swottin'."
evening was falling. we had not gone more than three hundred yards after leaving the wood, when we halted. we were warned to make the best of the position. a certain sector was allotted to us, and we were told that we must hold it all the next day. hold it only? guillaumin looked at me and pulled a face. what we wanted to do was to get on. the big push was what we were out for. he urged me to question the captain on the situation, as i was on such good terms with him. i refused. a little occurrence which had taken place that morning was still rankling in my mind. i had thought i might be permitted to ask our company commander whether the enemy was far off. ribet had heard me all right, but had not deigned to answer. he had looked through me as if i did not exist, and then called his orderly. that meant—what? simply that the captain intended to be familiar only when it suited him. i had been annoyed[pg 445] and offended. i should let him make the advances, next time!
the lieutenant seemed embarrassed by the task entrusted to him. as we were occupying the edge of a wood the temptation was great to make use of the resources at hand—the trees for instance. henriot bustled about and had the saws got out; then asked me whether there was not some way of getting hold of some petard of melinite to put round the big trunks. he spoke too loudly. the poilus snorted when they heard him. nobody felt inclined to undertake such a piece of work which would have lasted all night. and then, we were so certain to leave it all behind when we charged to-morrow.
some time was lost in bandying words. we had been there for half an hour when the captain came up.
"not begun yet?"
henriot began to unfold his plan. ribet cut him short, after the first words.
"you're quite off the mark! the edge of a wood! do you imagine we're going to settle down at the edge of a wood—a line which is sure to be especially marked? you wouldn't have a man left. take two or three hundred yards in front there. exactly! and now dig me some good trenches!"
"deep ones, sir?"
"that's your lookout. you must arrange that. let your men do the best they can—and remember that you may be attacked any minute."
he went on. his tall silhouette disappeared behind the bushes.
covered by a new patrol party, we chose a piece of ground of the length indicated. night had come. the stars shone out one by one. the cannonade was[pg 446] diminishing in intensity. the long beams of the searchlight were probing the dark sky in all directions.
and now to our task. guillaumin and i wielded spades ourselves, but the work did not get on fast, in spite of our efforts to hasten it. the men were lazy. they had made so many of these trenches in the meuse and in argonne which were never used at all.
at the end of an hour we had a ditch only a yard wide at the most, and not deep, allowing just enough room to fire kneeling down. we had to be content with it.
we met bouguet on the way, equally on the alert. the whole platoon was breathless with excitement. we passed word along the line to our neighbours.
and what of henriot? we ended by discovering the poor wretch, who had probably held out all night[pg 449] against his weariness, overcome by it at last, and snoring away with his head on his arm.
guillaumin shook with laughter.
"a lot of good all his trouble had been!"
he wanted to startle him by clapping him on the back. i objected. what was the good of humiliating him? i arranged to catch him with my elbow as i brushed past, and deferentially inquired as he moved:
"is that what you would advise, sir?"
"what! what!" he said, opening his eyes.
"to send word to the captain."
he raised himself up to listen to us, and approved our suggestions.
it was like a moving film!... that dark silent line, that line of assailants at which we turned to look continually, which we imagined was still a long way off. the speed was suddenly quickened. there was a sound of galloping—which seemed quite near. i strained my eyes, my lips opened with a jerk. i took a step forward....
henriot blew his whistle.
i can still hear the rip of that imperious salvo. a volley of shrieks answered it from the plain, and dispelled my shudders.
and the salvo grew more violent and rolled along the whole line of trenches. we saw nothing further: simply went on firing, sweeping the ground in front of us. i shouldered my rifle and discharged it distractedly, just as mad as the others. the crash and uproar rose and swelled and threatened.
it did not last more than a minute. the attack was badly carried out, or, at all events, sustained. it was an entire failure. our firing persisted. cries could still be heard, but of pain now, and also the[pg 450] interjections of officers rallying their men. there were smothered moans and death-rattles. our firing still continued. when it ceased nothing was moving on the plain and only an occasional guttural groan could be heard. when the dawn came we saw the stubble-fields strewn with bodies, some of them less than thirty yards away. they had fallen face foremost. the rest had been hit in flight. it was impossible to go and pick up even the dying. they must stay there all day, ghastly witnesses of the encounter.
it was broad daylight now.
where had the enemy taken refuge? probably behind one of those distant copses, unless they occupied trenches somewhere in this undulating plain which sloped gently away.
the german artillery was obviously anxious that we should not forget its presence. the avalanche of shells started again with terrific fury. nothing but big "coal-boxes." luckily all or nearly all of them roared over our heads to explode in the woods. suppose we had stayed there!
the captain appeared towards seven o'clock and told us that we should be there for some time.
one pleasant surprise was the coffee, which was brought up from the rear by fachard and pomot, two cheery fellows who were seen coming along in the distance, smiling and fearless, gaily swinging their dixey. they had had to cross the zone of fire to get to us. when questioned, they admitted that they had had no orders. it was simply an idea of theirs to warm the lads up a bit. and they meant to go back. fachard was no less a personage than the[pg 451] colonel's cook. his duty called him. oh no, that couldn't be allowed. lamalou forbade them to move. the colonel and his stew would have to look after themselves. they weren't going to let lads like that get themselves pinked, not much.
the captain, who turned up again, began by giving the two cronies a good slanging. a piece of nonsense that might have drawn the fire on to us. then he calmed down and asked if he might taste their famous coffee, and congratulated them on it.
pomot took a fancy to our platoon and stayed with us. i talked to him, but did not get much out of him at first. the thing that had struck him most was a shell which had just killed two staff-officers. oh, yes, and then he had heard that reinforcements had arrived. an important piece of news that. i pressed him—then he told me a fantastic tale which had got about of taxis having brought up zouaves and turcos and foreign legion men, all night, nothing but those frightful creatures from africa! it seemed to me an unlikely tale, but i thought it worth spreading all the same. it gave the men a tremendous fillip.
"them chaps knows the business end of a bayonet all right w'en they sees it!"
some time passed. i was occupied in getting our trench made deeper. the men put their backs into it better than they had the day before. but the captain immediately gave orders to stop the work, not to attract the attention of the enemy's lookout men. everyone appeared delighted. they only bemoaned the fact that they were forbidden to smoke.
the german shells fell unceasingly, with clumsy, obstinate precision, a few hundred yards behind us. part of the wood was on fire and black smoke hung[pg 452] above it. sometimes when a shell fell near the edge of the wood leaves and branches could be seen spurting up, as at the kick of some huge monster.
it certainly was a rest for us. the crash of bursting shells no longer startled us. we had even given up ducking when the projectiles swished over our heads. the men were sitting or lying about in drowsy attitudes. many of them were taking another nap. aided by a natural feeling of indolence they ended by taking it for granted that this sort of fighting would last.
another hour went by. i vaguely wished i could take some interest in the struggle. if only i had had a periscope or some field-glasses. i was too slack to go and borrow henriot's. for a moment i experienced a kind of humiliation—was this all that would be required of us? should we share in the glory of this victory without having earned it?—no one, up till then, doubted that it would be a victory—and leave the honour of the decisive attacks to those african devils? and then i must admit that this thought suddenly pleased me. i should get off easily and my friends too. everything seemed to be turning out for the best. and de valpic? oh, he would recover.
then, lulled by the deafening tumult of the cannonade, with my eyes half closed, i indulged in visions of a tender face. i wandered, enchanted, in the golden mists of the future....
