The Paris papers came regularly; several editions every day, but we were no longer so ravenous for this type of nourishment. When once the period of anxiety concerning Belgium's resistance and the intervention of England was over, we almost lost interest in the rest, yes, even in the first engagements in Lorraine, where our men won such a glorious name for themselves. We felt that nothing of importance would take place for ten days or a fortnight. Our chief anxiety was to know what they would do with us.
The general opinion was that we would be in the second line (Reservists. The idea!), that we would only look on from afar at the first terrible encounters.... When the regulars were put out of action, yes, then it would be our turn to take the field. But it was quite possible that the war would already be well advanced.
What day should we leave? And what would our destination be?
Outlandish rumours were in circulation. They were hailed with a smile, and passed on in fun, but we ended by believing them. What did we know about it? The "tips" always came from such high-placed[Pg 94] officials, generals, or station-masters. One persistent rumour was that we were to be sent to Le Havre, and from there shipped ... to what port do you think? You'd never guess, however long you went on trying! To Bremen! A landing party! Heavens, we stopped at nothing, with the British fleet behind us! According to another version we were to form part of a reserve force concentrated at Go?tquidam Brittany! The drawback was that we ran the risk of not seeing anything!
Morale! What a strange factor it is in deciding the fate of nations! I failed to take it into account now. This uncertainty weighed on me. I sounded my companions.
"Look here, how do you think things are going ... all right?"
"What!"
My question astounded them. On looking back it seems to me obvious that an insane optimism held sway. What could the Central Powers do against this gigantic coalition. The Kaiser had lost his head! Driven by the "junker" party, he was risking his all in a fit of despair.
How long would it go on for? The figure quoted was three months.
Three months, I said to myself: three months!
Fate might decide that our army corps, our regiment, was not to be engaged more than once or twice.... There would be some rough knocks to put up with! But what of that? Lots would come through! For those who did it would be curiously interesting to look on at the reconstruction of the world which would follow.... Would life be any the better for it? Yes. In what way?[Pg 95] I did not know. But I was firmly convinced of it.
In Guillaumin I had a surprising source of high spirits and enthusiasm. He lived in a state of exaltation. He was the only one to read between the lines, in the daily reports, endless sensational pieces of news, extraordinarily favourable to us, withheld, he said, through an excess of modesty.
"They're afraid the public might lose their heads."
If I pretended to be alarmed:
"What's become of the concentration? Look at all the regulars that are about still!"
He retorted with:
"My dear fellow, they're getting two days ahead of the estimates."
He had been to the station. He had seen any amount of trains passing crammed with troops and war material...! An inconceivable number of big guns, and ammunition waggons, and gun carriages! A store of unsuspected riches!
Our staff? Was admirable. Joffre, the great strategist, who left nothing to chance. Pau, the soldier whom the Germans feared more than any one, De Castelnau! Since he had made it his career despite his opinions!
The Government? Perfection. Viviani, the right man in the right place; the strong and many-sided genius that was needed. How fine,—and what a clever move—his letter to Madame Jaurès had been! The results of it were this solidity, and absolute unanimity; the rising en masse of the peaceful operatives, the internationalists of yesterday, claiming for their great country the right to live and be respected.
[Pg 96]
Guillaumin knew the text of the different official declarations and proclamations by heart; he recited scraps of them to me.
"Glorious! What!"
It was not an assumed excitement. I sounded him. He really was delighted to be going. It was the ingenuous wish for the unexpected and for adventure in one who led the most dreary of lives as a civilian. And the need to expend himself in a cause he felt was just. He did not need much urging to bring out such big words as Duty and Patriotism!!
His fervour both lowered him and raised him in my estimation. On one side I was inclined to place him in the class of credulous boobies, like the young fool of a lawyer's clerk I had met in the railway carriage. At the same time he gave me an example of moral warmth and vigour preferable to my frivolity.
He alone seemed changed by these formidable circumstances. He was thrilled. I should like to have been thrilled.
What made the Descroix and Humels so unbearable to me was their peace-time point of view. The way they spent hour after hour playing stupid card games, taking no interest in anything else! It was beyond me, and it worried me. They would not be the ones to save France!
(Should I be!!!)
Guillaumin reassured me.
"Don't you worry about that! You keep your eye on the poilus. That's all that matters!"
I tossed my head. My men? What could I know about them?
I had thirty-three roughs under me, squads 11 and 12. Guillaumin had the same number, squads 9 and[Pg 97] 10; Lieutenant Henriot was in command of the platoon.
Up to now, I had tried only to avoid being unpopular. I thought I was succeeding in it. I relied entirely on my corporals, Bouguet and Donnadieu, who were well up in their job.
Chance had thrown together in my section, Judsi and Lamalou, the two scoundrels whom I have already mentioned, among the stolid Beaucerons who were all so much alike that they might have been brothers. They were a scurvy couple. They had already been caught by a patrol one night in town, and brought back drunk, shouting and storming, and had been in such a dangerous mood next day that Henriot had not dared to haul them over the coals for it.
The impressions I had retained of the few weeks once spent on a company, before going to the "Peloton," the one occasion in which I had come into contact for a short period with the lower classes, were these: The barrack was a den of wild beasts, and the peasants real brutes. The fact that the one thing they looked forward to was Sunday when they could drink themselves stupid, made them lower even than the animals. Beyond that the only thing that had worried me was the "promiscuousness." The days of ragging were over; I was free with my cigarettes and "drinks." I could always find someone ready to take my fatigues for me for the sake of a sixpence, and ever since then Bouillon had been my guardian angel. It did not matter how much this pleb was looked down on!
Attached to my original company during the man?uvres, repo............