It was fortunate that we were three friends, three brothers, each less devoted to himself than to the others. How lonely it would have been otherwise! In billets we sometimes happened to come across friends from other companies: Laraque, Ladmirault, or Holveck. There would be a handshake, and a few words, no more, and then we separated. They on their side lived for themselves. The breach between us and the other N.C.O.'s was widening. I except Breton, the quartermaster-sergeant, who, on the contrary, sided with us. We must needs do him justice for the care and cleverness with which he accomplished his task of commanding No. 4 platoon where Hourcade seconded him badly, and keeping the books of the whole company under the captain's supervision. Sturdy and square-shouldered, it was good to see him going off with the camp material towards the end of a long halt. He nearly always succeeded in hunting out suitable sites. His responsibility and the country life suited him. He no doubt looked forward to the military medal, and the sergeant-major's stripe, at the end of this venture. Plucky under fire, and as much on the spot there as elsewhere, he always had his men well in hand. He had been won over by our conduct under fire. During his rare[Pg 338] leisure moments, he would willingly come and joke in our little group, which he dubbed "The Bachelors' Club." The only trouble was that with him you had to drink, drink, drink, the whole time. No drunkenness, but good hard drinking! We refused to join him for the first few days, but he called us molly-coddles, and almost took offence. De Valpic advised us to accept. We took turns to treat each other, here a pint, there a glass. After that it was a case of friendship till death, between him and us.
But the Humel-Playoust "lot"! Ravelli might rightly be classed with them now. I have spoken of the complete transformation which had been effected in him. It was doubtful whether the poilus ever heard the sound of his voice. Playoust had taken possession of him, getting hold of him through his weaknesses, flattering his Corsican vanity, but making a laughing-stock of him, though he was too stupid to see it. They never left each other, and were on the most familiar terms. These days, so fertile in surprises, had completely deranged the sergeant-major who had always been rather shaky in the upper storey. He saw spies everywhere—in all the old women, and priests, disguises which had as a matter of fact been made use of. Playoust spurred him on, for the amusement of the onlookers. The game was assuming alarming proportions. Ravelli, at Hazaumont, went to find the commanding officer, and handed over a list of suspects to him, which had been drawn slyly, by the other—all the parish priests in the neighbourhood! The captain was good-natured; he merely shook the poor sergeant-major:
"I shall keep my eye on you, my lad!"
Later on, on the evening of "Beauclair," Ravelli[Pg 339] only just missed throwing the whole division into a panic by yelling "The Uhlans!"
Trouble might have come of it. There was some question of reducing him to the ranks. His last chance of obtaining officer's rank was lost then.
But in spite of it he still continued to pin all his faith to Playoust. His ears buzzed, and he was continually asking:
"Is that firing, that we hear?"
"Exactly."
And the wretch pointed out some fleecy clouds in the sky.
"Look there. Shells bursting!"
"Good heavens! Marked again!"
But one thing that was not so funny was that since the sergeant-major continued to arrange the rounds of duty, Playoust made use of his power over him to get him to bully or favour certain men. De Valpic as has been seen was their principal victim. But directly we got wind of the matter, Breton warned Ravelli that we had decided to report it to the captain. The threat was sufficient, the normal time-table was immediately reverted to. All he gained by it was that Guillaumin, who was sickened by it, called him and his set, Brutus! and Blackguards! and refused point-blank to have anything to do with them in future.
Yes, that's what it came to in the end.
The N.C.O.'s of each company stuck together and had nothing to do with the others. In the sinister hours of that retreat! I blush to have to report it!
Hourcade was simply an unpleasant nincompoop. His only outstanding feature was his greed. If he had thrown in his lot with the Humel-Playoust set, it[Pg 340] was because he considered that he was more likely to pick up titbits there than anywhere else—a folly which prevented him from tasting Gaufrèteau's cooking! He stuffed into his haversack miscellaneous provisions, most of which he had shamefully gleaned from his men's rations. His mouth was always full. In billets, replete, not to say crammed, he quickly fell asleep and snored.
As for the two elementary schoolmasters, that was a simple matter: they hated us. Not starting from to-day or yesterday, but from several years ago, and before that—from birth. They were envious, embittered fellows, suffering, so De Valpic considered, from their semi-educated state. An ambiguous caste, despising the peasant and detesting the bourgeois, though we had nevertheless met and appreciated some lads belonging to the same class at the "Peloton," who were hard-working, intelligent, and ambitious, and had taken top places at the end of the year. But these were vulgar and envious on a level with most of them. Their physique was poor too. Even Descroix's strength, heavy and squat though he was, did not come near to ours; one felt that his blood had been impoverished and his muscles weakened by a studious youth, infrequent exercise, and poor nourishment. I considered him really repulsive with his flattened head, his stuck-out ears, his gaping mouth. I disliked him for all these signs of degeneration, and above all because of his deliberate cruelty towards the "viscount," and the brutal laugh with which he greeted Playoust's spiteful tricks. Humel, who was small and weakly, with a thin neck and bowed shoulders, and was always exhausted at the end of a day's march, inspired me with more indulgence. Was he not[Pg 341] the youngest of us since Frémont had disappeared? Once or twice I thought I saw a look of gentleness flit across his face, an expression which always attracts me. I had occasionally made certain advances. In vain. A fanatical disciple of his companions, he was not the least quick of them in administering offensive rebuffs.
Playoust had them all under his thumb. He was certainly smart, the rascal! I had been finely taken in at first by his look of a Paris street-urchin. He worked his open-handed, happy-go-lucky appearance, which makes the type so attractive, for all it was worth. And all the time he was as slippery and vicious as he could be. He hardly ever risked anything more than a casual piece of insolence on us, and he was the only one of the lot who continued to say good-day to us or to shake our hands, while, privately, he never ceased to stir up his acolytes against us. It must be noted too that he made game of them, cynically letting them in for endless fatigues. I bore him all the more ill-will for it, because, for a long time, I had thought I recognised a kindred spirit in him. Nothing had awakened in him—a proof that there was nothing lying dormant in him. What a hideous vision he afforded me of what I might have been.
Let there be no mistake about it. What annoyed us most about them all was the sight of their flabbiness and slackness. Since Spincourt they had chucked the whole show and were continually saying that they didn't care a blow what happened!
Their corporals were decent fellows and partially succeeded in making up for their deficiencies. Their men were no worse than most. But in spite of it their lack of authority came nigh to being disastrous on several occasions. To begin with, it was an admitted fact[Pg 342] that in their platoon they might get drunk with impunity. I remember the stink of wine and vomiting which rose from the stables where their men were billeted. How could De Valpic's have escaped the infection? Ravelli, who had been put up to it by the others, was always down on him. Playoust was charmed when the soldiers and the inhabitants were at loggerheads with each other. He tacitly encouraged the foraging and marauding that went on. Some of his poilus were mixed up in the rows at Béthaincourt.
Here is another occurrence which will serve to illustrate the different attitudes of mind. One grilling afternoon when we were passing the train of company waggons, the captain took it upon himself to give the most exhausted men permission to put their packs in the waggons. Our men were too proud. Their packs! They were quite capable of carrying them themselves, thanks! In the first platoon the N.C.O.'s were the first to unballast themselves; first, ten, then fifteen, then thirty of the men copied them. When that waggon was full, what should these fine gentlemen do,............