Yes, Guillaumin had been quite right! Ever since we had rejoined at F—— his one care had been the morale of the men! On that, indeed, depended the fate of the country, united with that of the present campaign. And this morale, in its turn, depended partly on us, in view of our responsibility. A task which was quite new to me. I have said how, at our departure, I could not conceive myself taking an interest in these dolts. Yes! But had I not felt them quiver as they marched at my side through the horror of the fire? The praise surprised on their lips that evening had made my heart beat—reciprocal esteem—and I had dreamt of something more.
During the long parches I took steps to get into touch with them, to overcome their shyness, the remains of their distrust. I was not afraid of showing a few of them what was in my heart. One of these was Icard, the miller, a steady, quiet fellow, whose good sense had struck me on several occasions. Under the present circumstances, the footing we were usually on, I said, was not enough. Complete harmony of mind and heart between us all seemed to me necessary for our common safety.
"We're fond enough of you, already, sergeant!"
[Pg 350]
I smiled.
"Fonder than you were at the beginning?"
"Yes, then we weren't exactly struck on you."
I think he was speaking at his comrades. Their instinct must have made them realise my friendly intentions. They quickly became more familiar and expansive. The last barrier had fallen.
I again appreciated Guillaumin's perspicuity. According to him these people dreaded betraying whatever tenderness and delicacy was aroused in them, by putting it into words. They were shy of talking about themselves, and expanded more willingly on a thousand and one abstract subjects. I had resigned myself to listening to an endless flow of words and pointless tales. They were flattered by my attention, and I was surprised to find them ten times less childish and narrow in their talk than many drawing-room conversationalists. It was the taste, innate in the French, for discussion and reasoning. Penetration and logic are ordinary qualities in them. Icard laid before me his views on the questions which impassioned him: agricultural economy, modern implements, the introduction of new crops, the causes and consequences of the population of the country districts, the remedies to be applied to it—all problems of vital importance to the nation. I who claimed to be so eclectic had to blush for myself because I had never considered them.
With him, and with some of the others, I took a delight in broaching the subject of socialistic doctrines. We were at one in our premises. Starting from that point I used to get them to talk, curious to see how much electioneering patter they had retained. More than mere words, in any case! Some of them were[Pg 351] imbued with the party point of view. Each of them, for that matter, followed wherever his temperament led him. Prunelle, the jeweller, favoured the view that the state should interfere as little as possible with individual enterprise. Icard, for his part, was a staunch advocate of a sort of dominant collectivism: of the most perfect organisation of society, down to the very smallest details, by its chosen representatives. He said to me:
"Look at the Bosches. They have it in a sense. That's what constitutes their strength. It's sad to think the poor brutes have to work for the King of Prussia!"
I tried, too, to probe their inmost convictions. Were they really keen about this struggle which would determine the future of their race?
It did not take long to convince me of it. Their patriotism was not an abstract quality: it was more than that—a tradition, almost a physical need. A free France was just as vital to them as eating or breathing. I had the opportunity of admiring the moral unity accomplished by the work of centuries of history. The Prussians had done these Beaucerons a personal injury in violating the distant Eastern frontier. No peace for them before these brigands had been sent back to where they came from! The question of Alsace-Lorraine affected them in a lesser degree. It was a long way off—almost an accomplished fact! But nevertheless it must be won back, if only as a matter of personal pride, for "swank"!
Their memory of the other war had not been at all obliterated, as I should have expected it to be. Most of them had heard from their parents what vexations and devastations their province had had to endure[Pg 352] in those bygone days. They had before their eyes the ravages of the present war. Hang it all! If only the Bosches did not advance too far! We mustn't be beaten again.
And then as Corporal Bouguet very neatly expressed it, considering how long we had been pestered by having to put in two or three years' military service, we should be dolts not to give them a good thrashing once and for all, for the sake of gaining a quiet life!
Their spirit in fact was marvellous. It must not be forgotten that we were still retreating! There was never a sign of real discouragement. It was sometimes upsetting, certainly, to leave superb positions without firing a single shot. But if it must be! If, as was still rumoured, it was for tactical reasons to lead the enemy into a trap! The fantastic exploits attributed to the artillery still continued to fire our imagination. Once or twice we met convoys of prisoners. Halloa! Things must be on the mend! And then, why attempt to give any explanation? Things went well, because they went well. Even in the first platoon there was never any serious trouble, the bad seed did not bear. There was nothing worse than a little slackness, rather less energy.
There was plenty of marching. Yes, but nothing dismal about it most of the time, especially when we thought we were getting near to the enemy when there would be a volley of witticisms:
"Halloa! Trichet!" Guillaumin exclaimed. "I suppose you think Prunelle's sight too good, and that's why you're sticking your gun into his eye?"
They laughed; the............