The bugle sounded. We might get out. Versailles. How these platforms swarmed! Ten convoys, like ours, with their carriages decorated in the same way with flags and branches of green leaves, scribbled over with harmless inscriptions and caricatures, had turned out, topsyturvy, this crowd of soldiers in chequered uniforms. The hubbub was tremendous. Everyone seemed in the best of spirits. There were flowers in every cap. We were forbidden to go far. As a matter of fact, no one thought of such a thing, we had to take care not to lose our company, and section. We hardly ventured as far as the fountains of drinking water. Having awaited my turn for it, I went up just after Judsi. I actually felt inclined to smack him on the back, he was so tantalising with his trick of drinking with his lips glued to the tap.
Guillaumin told me when I joined him that the halt was to last for an hour. We might take a turn! We amused ourselves for a moment, by watching[Pg 142] some horses being entrained—by no means an easy job. They were hoisting them in with slings. Their place of export was marked "Remount dep?t Saint-L?." Guillaumin nudged me with his elbow.
"Some concentration, what!"
It was true. All the Brittany lines, most of those from Normandy and Atlantic coast, converged there, bringing with them the blood of a third, or almost a third, of France.
We got back into the train. Evening was coming on. Guillaumin and I were to keep order in the truck; forty men in our charge. To begin with everyone had submitted to the restrictions concerning the arrangement of packs and rifles. Now the confusion began. A lot of them had got hold of their packs again to make a pillow, and most of them began to shed their equipment.
Lamalou set about moving the seats. I interfered. He began to argue about it. Guillaumin had to join in, and Bouillon too.
We started off again. Were we going to skirt Paris on the north or the south? We soon found out. The train approached the gradient at Buc. We watched in vain for some aeroplanes. Judsi exclaimed:
"Wot are you thinkin' of! They've all gone orf to Berlin!"
There were brief stops at small stations. The same scene was repeated every time: idlers crowding up to the railings to cheer us and we replying with shouts of "Death to the Bosches!" "Down with the Kaiser!" solely out of politeness, in order not to disappoint all these people who had waited so long. There was no longer the frank enthusiasm there had[Pg 143] been just now on leaving F——. The men were getting tired. The Red Cross members who distributed chocolate, fruit, and post-cards in profusion were no longer hailed with the same delight. Loriot and Lamalou ended by grumbling because they were so stingy with the wine.
The night fell, and with it what was left of cheerfulness. Judsi was the last to give in. He picked out well-known airs and set new words to them, ineffable drivel, beyond all description, and probably of his own composition. The coarsest sallies still raised a few laughs. These echoes of an inane merriment were becoming quite unbearable.
I thought of shutting the men up altogether. Guillaumin dissuaded me from doing so:
"Take care you don't get yourself disliked!"
It was getting dark. Corporal Donnadieu lit the section lantern. Where was it to be hung? To that hook in the middle of the ceiling. It swung backwards and forwards giving a flickering light.
Everyone was making preparations now, for going to sleep. A small number occupied the seats, the rest were stretched on the floor. They formed tangled groups in the shadows. Good-humoured elbow digs and expostulations were exchanged.
Guillaumin had lain down beside me, with his own head on his pack, and that of one of his corporals fitted between his knees. He became expansive and exclaimed:
"How's this for up-to-date comfort!"
It was a stifling evening. I was hot and uncomfortable, as I had not even had the courage to undo my belt. We had had a cold supper. The smell of cheese and sausage still hung about. It was the first[Pg 144] taste of the promiscuousness. As long as the two doors were open, the atmosphere was breathable. But here was Bouguet, who had just lain down, shouting:
"What do you say to shutting the door. There's a beastly draught."
Some coarse aside of Judsi's raised roars of merriment.
Lamalou sat up.
"Let's shut the door."
I shouted from the end of the carriage:
"Steady on! You must leave room for a little air to get in!"
Lamalou took no notice.
"Didn't you hear?" asked Bouillon. "The sergeant's orders were to leave it open!"
Bouguet objected.
"Do you want us all to catch our death of cold, sergeant? Besides it's the rule that doors must be kept shut at night."
Guillaumin raised himself, and whispered to me:
"The chap's quite right, you know!"
"How's that?"
"The poilus will roll off into the scenery when they go to sleep."
This prospect was disquieting. I said no more, but let them do as they liked. A minute afterwards I complained of the stuffiness.
"Why not have the ventilator opened?" Guillaumin suggested.
"What ventilator?"
He was obliging enough to get up and feel about to find the bolt. The shutter slid along in the groove. A scrap of sky showed through, and some fleecy clouds[Pg 145] shining in the moonlight. I announced that I should like to spend my night at the window.
"Are you quite off your chump? Try to have a snooze!"
"I'm not sleepy."
I groped along avoiding the slumberers and reached the seat near the wall. I succeeded in pulling myself up, and leaning my elbows on the opening, I breathed in the delicious night air.
Our convoy was crawling along at a monotonous pace, through the darkness. It seemed of an immoderate length, dark from end to end, except in the centre, where the light from the officer's salo............