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.
[pg 328]
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[pg 329] 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[pg 330] 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[pg 331] 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[pg 332] 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[pg 333] 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 a?roplanes 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,[pg 334] 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 communi[pg 335]cation 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[pg 336] 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.
