We started that evening from Rosny-sous-Bois, and spent part of the night in the train, slipping along at an indolent pace. We had not the least idea where we were being taken to. During the last hour, the rumble of the guns began to make itself heard. We were rolling slowly towards it. The day was breaking when we got out of the truck. A lot of men had dozed, and had puffy faces, and dirty tongues.
There was a persistent rumour that if we stopped in the open country, it meant that the line was cut. There was a station not far off; Ducostal bicycled to it and told us when he came back that it was Nanteuil-le-Haudoin.
The colonel held a consultation with his officers.
Henriot was rather pale when he reappeared. He took me aside and told me in confidence that they had just been introduced to a regulation concerning them. All commanders of units whose men showed signs of faltering "would be held personally responsible."
[Pg 434]
He sounded me.
"Do you think that means that we should—be shot?"
"Exactly! You're lucky to have a platoon like ours!"
"That's true," he said, regaining his self-possession.
I added: "While the first—for instance!"
"Well, well?"
I stopped, and did not give him my reasons.
Playoust had left us, when we started from Neuilly. Surprised by the sudden order transferring him to the ammunition train, he swaggered as he went off. What an escape! He was sure to get through all right now! We had not had the courage to refuse to shake hands with him. Only Guillaumin had warned him:
"Don't you keep us short of ammunition, or you'll hear about it!"
The troop train which had brought us shunted and made way for the next one which disgorged the fifth battalion. The same thing was going on in front of us and behind us. We must be detraining in force, the whole division apparently.
It was about six o'clock when we started off again towards the village lying about a mile and a half away. The guns boomed incessantly behind the rising ground near by. It was only a few hours since Nanteuil had been evacuated by the enemy. I expected the same vision of destruction and smoking ruins which had appalled us so many times near the Meuse. No. The houses were standing and intact; but they had certainly taken their share of plunder. I can recall a grocery shop which had been ransacked. The contents of sacks, drawers, boxes, and bottles, too, formed a swamp on the tiles, into which the shop-woman,[Pg 435] when she left her counter—I am not exaggerating—sank up to her waist.
A foul smell hung about. We had not been spoilt, as may be imagined, in the way of odours, since the beginning of the campaign. Nothing had come anywhere near this, however. The Bosches had left their nauseous traces when they went. It was the same thing everywhere—a manifestation of their Kultur!
The rare inhabitants who had stayed, not more than a hundred all told, who greeted us on the pavements, had only one expression for them, which they repeated between their cheers:
"Ah, the swine!"
We halted for a short time at the entrance to a square. Kind women brought us wine (goodness knows how they had managed to keep it), and other people took us to their homes with them.
I let myself be persuaded, but soon came back, sickened. The state of filth in which the Huns had left these houses was totally indescribable in polite language. It made me feel extremely ill—the hogs!—but our poilus were more inclined to laugh.
For all that no great crimes seemed to have been committed. One matron holding a little boy of five by the hand was shrieking that one of the brigands had held the barrel of his revolver to his temple. But judging by the round and rosy appearance of the kid, a stupid-looking child, not much harm had been done.
We started off again. Another old dame hobbled after us with a tale of some terrible tragedy. They'd had the cheek to commandeer her donkey, and to make it work all day; the poor animal was simply worn[Pg 436] out! They harnessed it to a furniture van! And then in the evening—to end up with—they had shot, skinned, and roasted it!
Judsi thought it all a farce, and laughed in the old woman's face:
"A relation of yours, was it?"
She fell behind, in a fury, calling us good-for-nothings.
We followed a paved street, then a cross-road, till we came to a wood. We went into it and piled arms.
I sat down with my back against a tree, while Guillaumin and the subaltern went off into the thicket. De Valpic came and joined me:
"I believe things will go all right this time," he said.
I repeated my conversation with the captain. Jove, the man's powers of divination could not be exaggerated, but he might be mistaken in——
"The miracle of this war is at hand," De Valpic continued. "I'm convinced of it." His eyes shone. He murmured: "You'll see it—you'll see it all right."
"And why not you?"
He shook his head. "No. I—I shall stay there."
"Nonsense!" I upbraided him. What was this childishness? He was no more exposed than I was, or any of us for that matter! Why give up hope like this?
He stopped me. "Just think a minute. Isn't it the best thing that could happen to me?"
"Got as far as that?"
"How do you mean 'as far as that'?"
He had a fit of coughing which brought colour into his cheeks and tears into his eyes. "When one has—faith!" he said, "it is less horrible—in fact it is not[Pg 437] horrible. What about you, Dreher? Have you never been a believer?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "My mother was very religious. I was brought up in those ideas. I remember that at my confirmation my one wish, just think of it, was to become a priest or missionary. I kept on going to mass and that sort of thing for some years; but since then—no, that's all over. But............