He was ordered confinement to barracks, but went out all the same. Ravelli who had met him in the village had him arrested and taken to the guard-room where he was sentenced by the captain to four days' confinement.
Lamalou commiserated him quite openly.
"That's what it is to be so bloomin' good-natured. Like to see 'em darin' to put upon me like that!"
The regimental sergeant-major who overheard him gave him a furious look, but actually was afraid to say anything and only revenged himself by slyly warning him for the next fatigue.
In the afternoon Lieutenant Henriot came to have a chat with Guillaumin and me. I noticed his anxiety to cause no more jealousy. Catching sight of[Pg 177] Descroix and Humel who were getting some fresh air in the yard, he called them. In this way the circle became enlarged. Too much for me! I bolted.
When Guillaumin came to find me again, I put on a sarcastic tone:
"Thrilling, what?"
"Oh ... quite interesting! You seemed to be listening all right yesterday!"
"Couldn't help myself!"
I undertook to quote the conversation I had had the day before with the little subaltern. To be honest, I exaggerated grossly. I ridiculed poor Henriot, and put on a tremolo, to recall his words about his birthplace where he taught, where his father was buried.
It seemed as if Guillaumin only half liked this skit. He stopped me.
"He may not be a genius, but he's quite a good sort."
I was discontented with myself and with him.
I expected that we should be sent to relieve the 21st in the trenches. I was mistaken. It was the 23rd. Our turn was skipped. I don't know why.
This cannonade which still persisted and seemed to be drawing nearer, unnerved me. Where were they fighting? What approximately were the lines of tactical defence?
De Valpic to whom I happened to put the question, informed me.
"The Loison and the Othain."
"What are they?"
"Tributaries of the Meuse. They both join the Chiers, near Montmédy."
"You are well up in it."
[Pg 178]
He smiled; he was going in to lie down as usual.
The firing was still going on. I said to Bouillon:
"We may be going up one of these days!"
"Where to?"
"Into the firing line."
"Good luck!"
"Really, good luck?"
"The sooner we go there, the sooner the war will be over!"
"But ... supposing we stay there?"
"Oh well, one end's as good as another!"
Towards evening someone announced that there was a convoy of wounded on the road. Frémont happened to be beside me. I took him by the arm:
"Are you coming to have a look?"
He hesitated. I took him along.
In the principal street a string of carts was filing past, carrying unearthly beings with sunken eyes, and blackened, ravaged faces. They were silent and had dirty bandages, some on their heads and some on their arms.
Our poilus had hurried up, and were forming a hedge. They ventured to question those who seemed the least affected.
"Well, lads? So you've given 'em a knock?"
Most of them did not reply. A few shook their heads.
"Nothing to be done."
"More likely them?"
They made a painful impression. More carts followed, these last drawn at a foot's pace. Orderlies signed to us that they contained the badly wounded.
Their time was up. Why bother to transport them even?
[Pg 179]
A vehicle passed at a trot going in the opposite direction empty.
"What have you done with your cargo?" shouted another driver.
"Going to load up again! Poor lads, turned into corpses, they are!"
Frémont had turned very pale.
"Let's be off!" he murmured.
"Oh, rot!" I said rather fiercely. "Let's see as much as we can.... We may be in their place to-morrow."
He stayed. A low cart appeared, containing two stretchers. On one of them was an officer with a bloodless face. He had a compress on his neck which dripped dark blood. On the other there was a young beardless corporal, whose respiration was rapid but even. Although awake, he persistently kept his eyes closed. What could his wound be? The orderly gave an expressive glance. A great-coat which had been thrown over the man hung down at the knee-joints. His two legs were gone.
"No, no, come away!" Frémont repeated with a shudder.
The horror of it! And it might so easily have been my turn to agonise to-morrow! By the fault of the politicians who had let loose this war! I cursed the allotted task, the yoke laid on so many, and my own acquiescence.
Then my attention was distracted. An N.C.O. in the 30th who took an opportunity of getting out when his cart stopped—the horse had lost a shoe, I believe—asked for a drink. Someone offered him wine.
"No. Water!"
Join or Log In!
You need to log in to continue reading
(Left Keyword <-) Previous:
CHAPTER IV AN ALARM
Back
Next:
BOOK V August 12th-13th CHAPTER VI ON THE WAY TO THE FIRING LINE
(Right Keyword:->)