Some time passed by. A distant fusillade crackled for a moment. The big guns boomed for an hour, and then were silent. It was becoming doubtful whether we should go on that day. Henriot got impatient. The men asked for nothing better than to start again. When once the rations had been issued and the cooks had dished up a hot meal, we could manage. There was some question of a party of us being told off to bury the dead. I dreaded lest this fatigue should fall to us; I foresaw how horrible it would be. We luckily escaped it. An unexpected order came for the battalion to move on.
I noticed that we were going northwards, in the direction of the enemy. We were preceded by patrol parties, and reconnoitring cavalry covered us.
The march was not marked by any notable incident. I remembered that we passed through a big village which had been occupied up till the night before by the enemy. One would have liked to stop there, to question the inhabitants whom we were delivering from this nightmare, and make friends with them.... But where were they? There was nobody but old women to be seen, and on their waxen faces I[Pg 251] thought I made out a strange resentful expression. Why resentful? Because their village had been abandoned, and left if only for a few hours to the mercy of the invaders, who had taken the healthy men with them when they left, and had said: "We shall come back, but next time we shall not leave one stone upon another."
We got hot, marching. I was possessed by the thought of poor De Valpic dying of thirst. I ended by going to find him, and offering to share what was left in my water-bottle with him. He refused to accept it, and I had to force it on him, but this scene which was repeated twice a day bored me.
Bouillon noticed my annoyance and realised the reason for it. He hailed the cyclist, a man named Ducostal, and gave him to understand that my water-bottle leaked.
"Try to get hold of one for the sergeant! Enough poor lads have been knocked out with them!"
"Righto!" said the other. "I'm just taking a stroll across to the field ambulance."
Just on the chance I begged him to ask for news of Sergeant Frémont of the 22nd, down there.
He went off. I felt certain that he would forget both commissions.
During the long halt in a field by the roadside, some troops came into sight. We went to have a look, because it was a regiment of regulars, which had been heavily engaged, we knew, during the last few days.
We were at once struck by the gait of these men. They were advancing very slowly and seemed to have to make an effort to raise their legs at each step they took. They halted. When arms had been piled[Pg 252] many of them did not even take the time to undo their packs, but let themselves fall where they stood. Several of them went to sleep instantly.
They were worn out. Three days' fighting without a pause and three nights.... The terrible nervous armed multitude, not a gesture, not a cry of joy in honour of this victory which they had won. Not to speak of the uniforms stained with mud and dust, and some in rags. The terrible part was these dull, ravaged faces, with their scared and dazed expressions.
I went down their line in silence. What gaps there were in these ranks! In one platoon there were only fifteen men left. A fair-haired corporal on the ground was trying to get to sleep, but the flies persecuted him. I chased them away.
"Thanks," he said.
I knelt down and asked him:
"How have you got on?"
He turned a dull eye on me, and answered in a broken voice, interrupted by dismaying silences:
&qu............