Towards midday we set off again, but to our surprise, went slowly backwards, accompanied by the shrill blasts of whistles. The line beyond Rheims must obviously be cut, or just about to be cut. Where were they taking us to? There was a new halt, near a branch line, which lasted for an interminable time. Then we laboriously got under way again. The evening was already falling.
How long did that journey last? Two nights and two days? Or three? It was enough to make one lose all idea of time.
I doubt whether, after leaving Chalons our speed could have exceeded eight miles an hour. Every five minutes we pulled up, sometimes only for a few seconds, sometimes for two or three hours. To begin with the men in command of each truck had instructions to see that no one got out. But as the comedy continued to repeat itself, the orders were soon relaxed. It was better outside than in.
At Chalons and at Troyes we found cold meals prepared for us. In between times the men spread over the neighbouring fields in search of carrots, beans, and potatoes, and generally reaped a fruitful harvest. They hollowed out ovens along the line, but the[Pg 395] train often started off just as the camp-kettles had been put on to the fire. The first time or two, panic ensued, the men seized the material, burning their fingers, and crammed their mouths with half-cooked vegetables.
But they gradually got to take things more calmly. If the train wanted to do a bolt, let it, by all means! They'd catch it up all right. Or if not they would jump on to the next one that came along, that was all! There was a procession of convoys on our down line.
The most hilarious merriment spread from one end of the chain to the other. It was occasionally chilled by meeting an ambulance train carrying its terrible load of suffering. We were shunted and the other passed us. It was heart-rending, and unpleasant too, to have to stay in the wake of it, where there floated an unsavory smell. But the rest of the time—high jinks! The poilus had taken a fancy to this fantastic excursion. Peasants did a trade in eatables along the line. We bought eggs, cheese, jam, and black puddings and sausages from them—good cheer, in fact. And wine most of all. There was a great run on some frothy wine of an inferior quality sold at two francs a bottle. The men clubbed together and there were great drinking bouts which ended in some of them being distinctly "binged."
It was no use trying to interfere. The N.C. O's were giving way everywhere. Some of them even joined in. Among our lot I at least succeeded in putting into force this rule: that whoever felt squeamish, should not get back into the truck, where he would make everyone uncomfortable. It was strictly observed: some of these excellent fellows[Pg 396] meekly dragged their wish to vomit along the ballast for a livelong day.
I was far from partaking in this atmosphere of gaiety, and was, on the contrary, bored and depressed. I did not get out half-a-dozen times, but stayed in our truck in almost complete isolation. Chance had separated me from Guillaumin on this journey, and thrown me with Langlois, who was not a very inspiring companion.
De Valpic was feeling the effects of his recent fatigue, and lay down the whole time. Humel twice came to pay me a short visit, unknown to the rest of the "set." Henriot was nowhere to be seen.
I have said that we stopped for a moment at Troyes where we turned off on to the main line, Belfort-Paris. We soon saw the effect of it in the change of speed. Two of our gay spirits again took advantage of a halt, to rag in the fields. The train started off at full speed without whistling. We did not see them again until two days later.
We arrived at Pantin at night. The men's persistent gaiety made me singularly cross, and I was much relieved when the captain lost his temper and exacted silence. We detrained in pitch darkness. All the lamps in the station had been put out for fear of Taubes and Zeppelins.
I longed and feared to learn what turn things had taken. I questioned a foreman who confided in me:
"You're lucky, you're the last to arrive! To-morrow the system won't be working. It's already cut at Meaux."
They hurried us along the platform, weighed down like human live-stock. On leaving the station[Pg 397] we turned into an unlighted avenue, and marched for half an hour or fifty minutes.
The men demanded a halt.
Everyone was so firmly convinced that we were being brought back to rest here. We would have given anything to lie down, if only on bad straw. Our backs were sore all over from those seventy-six hours in the train.
The streets were deserted. At long intervals there was a sentry, or patrol-party. We went on, half dozing. With my head nodding, I urged myself on to certain arguments, which were comparatively reassuring. Don't thro............