The weather next day was glorious. A fine rain had fallen. The men now very clean and spruce, wandered about the village, with their caps cocked over their ears. No danger threatened. No one would have thought we were at war. And as for the Bosches, let them go hang! The natives had certainly said, shaking their heads, that they had already seen some Uhlans on the neighbouring hills. Absurd inventions. A dragoon whom we questioned burst out laughing in our faces. The Bosches! They had indeed been across the frontier for twenty-four hours or so, over there towards Longwy. They were soon sent to the right-about. We might sleep in peace! We had the regulars in front of us, about twenty regiments of them!
Some trenches had been dug at the approaches to the village, the 21st had spent the night in them. It was one of the regular amusements to go and look over them during the day-time. They were very unconvincing, casually hewn out and occupied. Orne's defensive organisation! Who could take it seriously?
"Blowed if I don't think our good time's beginning," said Judsi.
[Pg 161]
The villagers were really delightful. These poor dwellers by the Meuse! They did not have much of a time afterwards. Who would not have become embittered in their place? At the outset we were touched by their cordial, almost friendly reception. Many of us went in search of a bed. I believe that but few were found which did not already boast an occupant. Lamalou's experience was a case in point. Other attachments were formed. On the other hand, Playoust came to grief—the thing became known immediately—with the grocer's pretty wife. He revenged himself by attributing the mishap to the regimental sergeant-major.
The outstanding feature—which never varied throughout the campaign—was the catering. We N.C.O.'s messed together. But Descroix and his lot were already dissatisfied with this arrangement and suggested that each platoon should fend for itself.
I was doubtful about this, but Guillaumin took me aside.
"Leave them alone! It will suit us much better!"
He explained that he had made a great find in the shape of a top-hole cook, a real professional. He had been chef at Bernstein's!!! The fellow would perhaps consent to cook for three or four, but not a word!—or the officers would appropriate him. He made me acquainted with the prodigy, Gaufrèteau, a smooth-skinned, cold creature, very much on his dignity, who would not bind himself in any way.
Our comrades had managed somehow or other to get hold of some wine at twenty-four sous the litre, good pale Lorraine wine, on which they feasted among themselves. You had to pay two francs everywhere else for a much inferior quality.
[Pg 162]
Guillaumin determined he would not be outdone, and went off in search of it. He ended by coming back triumphant, bringing the same wine at 1 franc 20, and the wine merchant was to have the bottles back!
He poured out several bumpers and made fun of De Valpic for refusing to take any. I suggested adding some water to it. He ragged me in turn.
"What are you afraid of? If we've got to be knocked out at this job, at least let's have our money's worth first!"
This coarse tomfoolery maddened me. Was it an attitude of mind assumed for war-time, to match that of those poor brutes of troopers. I sarcastically twitted him with it. He was not at all annoyed.
"Just what I'm trying for!"
Thereupon he invited his corporals and mine to empty new bottles. I could not leave him in the lurch. All these people were drinking and rotting with him round the table in the kitchen of our farm. The place was filled with the smell of burning fat. What a scene, and what a pastime! I was bored to death.
"I'll see you later!" I said, and went off making some excuse. I should have liked to meet Fortin or someone of that calibre. A pity they'd left him at F——, but perhaps it might be lucky for him.
I took a turn round the neighbouring billets. Nothing but men lying about and a lot of them had spread into the fields round about, and were taking a nap in the shade.
My foot was better. I had painted it with tincture of iodine that morning and the day before.
I got out of the village without any difficulty. A sentry, far from stopping me, asked me for some tobacco.
[Pg 163]
A hill near by attracted me. I hoped to get a good view of the surrounding country from the top. My ideas on the topography of the neighbourhood were singularly confused. I knew the distance from Orne to Verdun, 18 km. 7., and I was inclined to think the Valley of the Meuse must lie somewhere near to southwards.
My walk was not at all satisfying. From the summit I had aimed at, I could see nothing but another ridge, crowned with a dark fringe of trees. There was no outlet through which I could get a view. I came back, tired and disappointed. Up there I had tried for a moment to give rein to my imagination. Here is my country—Lorraine, I said to myself, and I looked in vain for that serene melancholy, that voluptuous calm, in the landscape.... It was obviously yet another example of poetic exaggeration. It was not unpleasing country, but it was more like—oh, anything you like to name, Perche, or the country round Paris.
I went back. On the way I heard myself hailed from behind a hedge. It was Playoust's voice. I went up and found the whole set of sergeants from the 22nd. De Valpic alone was missing. I was surprised to catch sight of Guillaumin, with cards in his hands.
"What! You don't mean to say you're playing?" I said.
"Yes, they're teaching me!"
He explained with great gusto that they had come to fetch him to make up a second four (Frémont was there too). He had no gift for it. But he was sticking to it all the same. He had already lost one and threepence!
[Pg 164]
"And what about you, old boy? Do you know their blooming game?"
"Yes," I replied coolly, "but it doesn't appeal to me, you know!"
I did not linger. I bore him a grudge. If he was going over to that lot he was quite at liberty to do so, of course, but he need no longer count, as a matter of course, on my society—Oh dear, no!
I went to lie down. I yawned. I was bored to tears.
For the sake of something to do I emptied my pockets of their miscellaneous contents.
On pulling out the packet of letter cards which I had brought quite by chance, I thought: Hello, why shouldn't I write a letter?
But to whom should it be?
Not to my father. I had nothing to tell him.
As for my brother, I had not even got his complete address. I did not know what company he was in. My brother Victor!... Why should I be thinking of him particularly just now?... Where was he?... Somewhere in the Woevre. Not very far from me, no doubt.
What spirits was he in? War was the dream of their life, their goal, their one passion, to all these soldiers. What a bizarre idea it was. Simply a case of suggestion! What did they hope for from it, after all? For the space of a second I had a strikingly clear vision of him, calm and resolute, with his cap well down over his eyes, issuing his orders.
The idea again occurred to me of writing to someone—whom I knew. But I counted on my fingers; it was only three days; and it would be better to wait until I had something worth writing about.
[Pg 165]
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