My brother! My brother killed! I went off, without a word in reply, and lost myself in the darkness. I was stupefied. My brother killed! I was on the point of fainting. And then, in a few minutes, I regained my control. I had the impression of having advanced a stage; of an awakening. Finished, and done with my r?le as on-looker in all these things. No more detached, distant pity for me like that with which I had been inspired by those dying men just now. How my blood rushed through my veins. I conjured up a vision of my brother alive, leading his men. I saw him totter and fall. They picked him up, stone dead! With a hole through his forehead! That was the end. There was no more to be done but to make the sign of the cross over all that remained of him!
Henriot passed me again, buckling the strap of his revolver. He asked me casually:
"Well, did you speak to him?"
I was on the point of saying to him.
[Pg 185]
"My brother ... you know, my brother."
But a feeling of shyness prevented me, the idea of confiding in anyone was repugnant to me.... Guillaumin appeared in his turn, his képi worn square; I did not say anything to him either: the idea of forcedly conventional phrases sickened me.
We formed into platoons. Roll-call. Nobody missing in our lot.
The men were joking in spite of our instructions. Judsi's nasal intonations could be distinguished.
"Halloa, Loriot, you old rotter, you going to march? Didn't the M.O. recognise you?"
Each one's a bigger fool than the last!
Loriot shrugged his shoulders.
Corporal Donnadieu was the only one who looked thoughtful and absorbed. An agriculturalist, with delicate features, and a sandy moustache; I liked him for his conscientiousness and zeal. He suddenly turned to me, and said in a whisper:
"So we're going up to the front, you think, Sergeant?"
"I believe so."
"Already?"
"Already."
"How many will stay there?"
He looked as if he were reckoning up the number of victims around us. I said wearily:
"Oh, as to that!"
He was silent. I asked him if he was married.
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Any children?"
"One of fifteen months, and another ... on the way!"
Looking down at the ground, he sighed.
[Pg 186]
"How stupid it is to fight!"
I thought how in our camp, and no doubt in the opposite camps too, nearly every individual was privately thinking the same thing! And yet each one bowed his head and went on. Poor human race!
We started off. The night was cool and clear. A good one to march on.
Guillaumin came to keep me company. He announced that he was in "the pink" and joked below his breath with his men and mine, whom he already knew better than I did. He forced me to share his good humour. It may be imagined that I did not rise much, though I avoided looking too anxious. I dreaded a direct question and intended to withdraw into myself alone with my sorrow.
He ended by getting tired of it and left me, but then it was the subaltern's turn to hang on to me. It was difficult to escape him. It was in vain that I purposely arranged to walk so that he was forced to the side of the road, where he kept stumbling over endless obstacles such as ruts and heaps of flints. He did not lose heart, and I had to put up with a new explanation of the situation. Then he tried to make out where we were. Every other minute I saw him consulting his map with the aid of his electric torch.
"Look, we're following this road."
He must have made a mistake, at some cross roads. Contrary to his expectation we did not cross the high road to étain. Then he tried to take his bea............