diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:52:34 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:52:34 -0700 |
| commit | d1900d17c4a86fbacd1739a1f85029e49d115765 (patch) | |
| tree | 5206cc07fbd2b3d7984dd36c79c71b98e7d7619a /18103-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '18103-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 18103-h/18103-h.htm | 6337 |
1 files changed, 6337 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/18103-h/18103-h.htm b/18103-h/18103-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..97f8ffb --- /dev/null +++ b/18103-h/18103-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6337 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of "Contemptible", by "Casualty". + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .TOC {list-style-type: upper-roman; + margin-left: 3em; + text-align: left; + line-height: 150%} + + + + + + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of "Contemptible", by "Casualty" + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: "Contemptible" + +Author: "Casualty" + +Release Date: April 2, 2006 [EBook #18103] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "CONTEMPTIBLE" *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Graeme Mackreth, Bill Tozier +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>"CONTEMPTIBLE"</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 5em;"><small><b>SOLDIERS' TALES OF THE GREAT WAR</b></small><br /> + +<small>Each volume cr. 8vo, cloth.</small></p> +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<small>WITH MY REGIMENT. By "<span class="smcap">Platoon Commander</span>."</small></li> +<li> +<small>DIXMUDE. The Epic of the French Marines. Oct.-Nov. 1914. By, +<span class="smcap">Charles le Goffic</span>. <i>Illustrated</i></small></li> +<li> +<small>IN THE FIELD (1914-15). The Impressions of an Officer of Light +Cavalry.</small></li> +<li> +<small>UNCENSORED LETTERS FROM THE DARDANELLES. Notes of a French Army +Doctor. <i>Illustrated</i></small></li> +<li> +<small>PRISONER OF WAR. By <span class="smcap">André Warnod</span>. <i>Illustrated</i></small></li> +<li> +<small>"CONTEMPTIBLE." By "<span class="smcap">Casualty</span>."</small></li> +<li> +<small>ON THE ANZAC TRAIL. By "<span class="smcap">Anzac</span>."</small></li> +</ul> +<p><small><span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span> J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY <span class="smcap">London</span>:</small><br /> +<small>WILLIAM, HEINEMANN </small></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>"CONTEMPTIBLE"</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>"CASUALTY"</h2> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 5em;"><small><span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>: J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br /> + +<span class="smcap">London</span>: WILLIAM HEINEMANN<br /> + +MCMXVI<br /></small></p> + + + + +<p class="center"><small><i>Printed in Great Britain.</i></small></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> + + +<ul class="TOC"> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I"> LEAVING ENGLAND</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CALM BEFORE THE STORM</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">THE ADVANCE TO MONS</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">MONS</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">THE BEGINNING OF THE RETREAT</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">DARKNESS</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VENÉROLLES</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">ST. QUENTIN AND LA FÈRE</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">SIR JOHN FRENCH</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">A PAUSE, AND MORE MARCHING</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">A REAR-GUARD ACTION</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">VILLIERS-COTTERETS</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">HEAT AND DUST</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">THE OCCUPATION OF VILLIERS</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">THE LAST LAP</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">THE TURN OF THE TIDE</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">THE ADVANCE BEGINS</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">THE CROSSING OF THE MARNE</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">AN ADVANCED-GUARD ACTION</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">DEFENCE</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">THE DEFENCE OF THE BRANDY</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">STRATEGY AS YOU LIKE IT</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">THE LAST ADVANCE</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">SATURDAY NIGHT</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">THE CROSSING OF THE AISNE</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">THE CELLARS OF POUSSEY</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">THE FIRST TRENCHES</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">IN RESERVE AT SOUVIR</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"> TO STRAIGHTEN THE LINE</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">THE JAWS OF DEATH</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">THE FIELD HOSPITAL</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">OPERATION</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII"> ST. NAZAIRE</a></li> +<li> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">SOMEWHERE IN MAYFAIR</a></li> +</ul> + + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>LEAVING ENGLAND</h4> + + +<p>No cheers, no handkerchiefs, no bands. Nothing that even suggested the +time-honoured scene of soldiers leaving home to fight the Empire's +battles. Parade was at midnight. Except for the lighted windows of the +barracks, and the rush of hurrying feet, all was dark and quiet. It was +more like ordinary night operations than the dramatic departure of a +Unit of the First British Expeditionary Force to France.</p> + +<p>As the Battalion swung into the road, the Subaltern could not help +thinking that this was indeed a queer send-off. A few sergeants' wives, +standing at the corner of the Parade ground, were saying good-bye to +their friends as they passed. "Good-bye, Bill;" "Good luck, Sam!" Not a +hint of emotion in their voices. One might have thought that husbands +and fathers went away to risk their lives in war every day of the week. +And if the men were at all moved at leaving what had served for their +home, they hid it remarkably well. Songs were soon breaking out from all +parts of the column of route. As the Club House, and then the Golf Club, +stole silently up and disappeared behind him, the Subaltern wondered +whether he would ever see them again. But he refused to let his +thoughts drift in this channel. Meanwhile, the weight of the +mobilisation kit was almost intolerable.</p> + +<p>In an hour the station was reached. An engine was shunting up and down, +piecing the troop trains together, and in twenty minutes the Battalion +was shuffling down the platform, the empty trains on either side. Two +companies were to go to each train, twelve men to a third-class +compartment, N.C.O.s second class, Officers first. As soon as the men +were in their seats, the Subaltern made his way to the seat he had +"bagged," and prepared to go to sleep. Another fellow pushed his head +through the window and wondered what had become of the regimental +transport. Somebody else said he didn't know or care; his valise was +always lost, he said; they always made a point of it.</p> + +<p>Soon after, they were all asleep, and the train pulled slowly out of the +station.</p> + +<p>When the Subaltern awoke it was early morning, and they were moving +through Hampshire fields at a rather sober pace. He was assailed with a +poignant feeling of annoyance and resentment that this war should be +forced upon them. England looked so good in the morning sunshine, and +the comforts of English civilisation were so hard to leave. The sinister +uncertainty of the Future brooded over them like a thunder cloud.</p> + +<p>Isolated houses thickened into clusters, streets sprang up, and soon +they were in Southampton.</p> + +<p>The train pulled up at the Embarkation Station, quite close to the wharf +to which some half-dozen steamers were moored. There was little or no +delay. The Battalion fell straight into "massed formation," and began +immediately to move on to one of the ships. The Colonel stood by the +gangway talking to an Embarkation Officer. Everything was in perfect +readiness, and the Subaltern was soon able to secure a berth.</p> + +<p>There was plenty of excitement on deck while the horses of the +regimental transport were being shipped into the hold.</p> + +<p>To induce "Light Draft," "Heavy Draft" horses and "Officers' +Chargers"—in all some sixty animals—to trust themselves to be lowered +into a dark and evil-smelling cavern, was no easy matter. Some shied +from the gangway, neighing; other walked peaceably on to it, and, with a +"thus far and no farther" expression in every line of their bodies, took +up a firm stand, and had to be pushed into the hold with the combined +weight of many men. Several of the transport section narrowly escaped +death and mutilation at the hands, or rather hoofs, of the Officers' +Chargers. Meanwhile a sentry, with fixed bayonet, was observed watching +some Lascars, who were engaged in getting the transport on board. It +appeared that the wretched fellows, thinking that they were to be taken +to France and forced to fight the Germans, had deserted to a man on the +previous night, and had had to be routed out of their hiding-places in +Southampton.</p> + +<p>Not that such a small thing as that could upset for one moment the +steady progress of the Embarkation of the Army. It was like a huge, +slow-moving machine; there was a hint of the inexorable in its +exactitude. Nothing had been forgotten—not even eggs for the Officers' +breakfast in the Captain's cabin.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the other ships were filling up. By midday they began to slide +down the Solent, and guesses were being freely exchanged about the +destination of the little flotilla. Some said Boulogne, others Calais; +but the general opinion was Havre, though nobody knew for certain, for +the Captain of the ship had not yet opened his sealed orders. The +transports crept slowly along the coast of the Isle of Wight, but it was +not until evening that the business of crossing the Channel was begun in +earnest.</p> + +<p>The day had been lovely, and Officers and men had spent it mostly in +sleeping and smoking upon the deck. Spirits had risen as the day grew +older. For at dawn the cheeriest optimist is a pessimist, while at +midday pessimists become optimists. In the early morning the German Army +had been invincible. At lunch the Battalion was going to Berlin, on the +biggest holiday of its long life!</p> + +<p>The Subaltern, still suffering from the after-effects of inoculation +against enteric, which had been unfortunately augmented by a premature +indulgence in fruit, and by the inability to rest during the rush of +mobilisation, did not spend a very happy night. The men fared even +worse, for the smell of hot, cramped horses, steaming up from the lower +deck, was almost unbearable. But their troubles were soon over, for by +seven o'clock the boat was gliding through the crowded docks of Havre.</p> + +<p>Naturally most of the Mess had been in France before, but to Tommy it +was a world undiscovered. The first impression made on the men was +created by a huge negro working on the docks. He was greeted with roars +of laughter, and cries of, "Hallo, Jack Johnson!" The red trousers of +the French sentries, too, created a tremendous sensation. At length the +right landing-stage was reached. Equipments were thrown on, and the +Battalion was paraded on the dock.</p> + +<p>The march through the cobbled streets of Havre rapidly developed into a +fiasco. This was one of the first, if not the very first, landing of +British Troops in France, and to the French it was a novelty, calling +for a tremendous display of open-armed welcome. Children rushed from the +houses, and fell upon the men crying for "souvenirs." Ladies pursued +them with basins full of wine and what they were pleased to call beer. +Men were literally carried from the ranks, under the eyes of their +Officers, and borne in triumph into houses and inns. What with the heat +of the day and the heaviness of the equipment and the after-effects of +the noisome deck, the men could scarcely be blamed for availing +themselves of such hospitality, though to drink intoxicants on the march +is suicidal. Men "fell out," first by ones and twos, then by whole +half-dozens and dozens. The Subaltern himself was scarcely strong enough +to stagger up the long hills at the back of the town, let alone worrying +about his men. The Colonel was aghast, and very furious. He couldn't +understand it. (He was riding.)</p> + +<p>The camp was prepared for the troops in a wonderfully complete +fashion—not the least thing seemed to have been forgotten. The men, +stripped of their boots, coats and equipments, were resting in the shade +of the tents. A caterer from Havre had come up to supply the Mess, and +the Subaltern was able to procure from him a bottle of rather heady +claret, which, as he was thirsty and exhausted, he consumed too rapidly, +and found himself hopelessly inebriate. Luckily there was nothing to do, +so he slept for many hours.</p> + +<p>Waking up in the cool of the evening he heard the voices of another +Second-Lieutenant and a reservist Subaltern talking about some people he +knew near his home. It was good to forget about wars and soldiers, and +everything that filled so amply the present and future, and to lose +himself in pleasant talk of pleasant things at home.... The dinner +provided by the French caterer was very French, and altogether the last +sort of meal that a young gentleman suffering from anti-enteric +inoculation ought to have indulged in. Everything conspired to make him +worse, and what with the heat and the malady, he spent a very miserable +time.</p> + +<p>After about two days' stay, the Battalion moved away from the rest +camp, and, setting out before dawn, marched back through those fatal +streets of Havre, this time deserted in the moonlight, to a sort of +shed, called by the French authorities a troop station. Here as usual +the train was waiting, and the men had but to be put in. The carriages +could not be called luxurious; to be frank, they were cattle-trucks. But +it takes more than that to damp the spirits of Mr. Thomas Atkins. Cries +imitating the lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep broke out from +the trucks!</p> + +<p>The train moved out of the depôt, and wended its way in the most casual +manner through the streets of Havre. This so amused Tommy that he roared +with laughter. The people who rushed to give the train a send-off, with +many cries of "Vive les Anglais," "A bas les Bosches," were greeted with +more bleatings and brayings.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The journey through France was quite uneventful. Sleeping or reading the +whole day through, the Subaltern only remembered Rouen, passed at about +midday, and Amiens later in the evening. The train had paused at +numerous villages on its way, and in every case there had been violent +demonstrations of enthusiasm. In one case a young lady of prepossessing +appearance had thrust her face through the window, and talked very +excitedly and quite incomprehensibly, until one of the fellows in the +carriage grasped the situation, leant forward, and did honour to the +occasion. The damsel retired blushing.</p> + +<p>At Amiens various rumours were afloat. Somebody had heard the Colonel +say the magic word "Liège." Pictures of battles to be fought that very +night thrilled some of them not a little.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dawn found the Battalion hungry, shivering and miserable, paraded by the +side of the track, at a little wayside station called Wassigné. The +train shunted away, leaving the Battalion with a positive feeling of +desolation. A Staff Officer, rubbing sleep from his eyes, emerged from a +little "estaminet" and gave the Colonel the necessary orders. During the +march that ensued the Battalion passed through villages where the three +other regiments in the Brigade were billeted. At length a village called +Iron was reached, and their various billets were allotted to each +Company.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern's Company settled down in a huge water-mill; its Officers +being quartered in the miller's private house.</p> + +<p>A wash, a shave and a meal worked wonders.</p> + +<p>And so the journey was finished, and the Battalion found itself at +length in the theatre of operations.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I have tried in this chapter to give some idea of the ease and +smoothness with which this delicate operation of transportation was +carried out. The Battalions which composed the First Expeditionary Force +had been spread in small groups over the whole length and breadth of +Britain. They had been mobilised, embarked, piloted across the Channel +in the face of an undefeated enemy fleet, rested, and trained to their +various areas of concentration, to take their place by the side of their +French Allies.</p> + +<p>All this was accomplished without a single hitch, and with a speed that +was astonishing. When the time comes for the inner history of the war to +be written, no doubt proper praise for these preliminary arrangements +will be given to those who so eminently deserve it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>CALM BEFORE THE STORM</h4> + + +<p>Peace reigned for the next five days, the last taste of careless days +that so many of those poor fellows were to have.</p> + +<p>A route march generally occupied the mornings, and a musketry parade the +evenings. Meanwhile, the men were rapidly accustoming themselves to the +new conditions. The Officers occupied themselves with polishing up their +French, and getting a hold upon the reservists who had joined the +Battalion on mobilisation.</p> + +<p>The French did everything in their power to make the Battalion at home. +Cider was given to the men in buckets. The Officers were treated like +the best friends of the families with whom they were billeted. The +fatted calf was not spared, and this in a land where there were not too +many fatted calves.</p> + +<p>The Company "struck a particularly soft spot." The miller had gone to +the war leaving behind him his wife, his mother and two children. +Nothing they could do for the five officers of the Company was too much +trouble. Madame Mère resigned her bedroom to the Major and his second in +command, while Madame herself slew the fattest of her chickens and +rabbits for the meals of her hungry Officers.</p> + +<p>The talk that was indulged in must have been interesting, even though +the French was halting and ungrammatical. Of all the companies' Messes, +this one took the most serious view of the future, and earned for itself +the nickname of "Les Misérables." The Senior Subaltern said openly that +this calm preceded a storm. The papers they got—<i>Le Petit Parisian</i> and +such like—talked vaguely of a successful offensive on the extreme +right: Mülhouse, it was said, had been taken. But of the left, of +Belgium, there was silence. Such ideas as the Subaltern himself had on +the strategical situation were but crude. The line of battle, he +fancied, would stretch north and south, from Mülhouse to Liège. If it +were true that Liège had fallen, he thought the left would rest +successfully on Namur. The English Army, he imagined, was acting as +"general reserve," behind the French line, and would not be employed +until the time had arrived to hurl the last reserve into the mêlée, at +the most critical point.</p> + +<p>And all the while, never a sound of firing, never a sight of the red and +blue of the French uniforms. The war might have been two hundred miles +away!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Tommy on his marches was discovering things. Wonder of +wonders, this curious people called "baccy" tabac! "And if yer wants a +bit of bread yer awsks for pain, strewth!" He loved to hear the French +gabble to him in their excited way; he never thought that reciprocally +his talk was just as funny. The French matches earned unprintable names. +But on the whole he admired sunny France with its squares of golden corn +and vegetables, and when he passed a painted Crucifix with its cluster +of flowering graves, he would say: "Golly, Bill, ain't it pretty? We +oughter 'ave them at 'ome, yer know." And of course he kept on saying +what he was going to do with "Kayser Bill."</p> + +<p>One night after the evening meal, the men of the Company gave a little +concert outside the mill. The flower-scented twilight was fragrantly +beautiful, and the mill stream gurgled a lullaby accompaniment as it +swept past the trailing grass. Nor was there any lack of talent. One +reservist, a miner since he had left the army, roared out several songs +concerning the feminine element at the sea-side, or voicing an inquiry +as to a gentleman's companion on the previous night. Then, with an +entire lack of appropriateness, another got up and recited "The Wreck of +the <i>Titanic</i>" in a most touching and dramatic manner. Followed a song +with a much appreciated chorus—</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Though your heart may ache awhile,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Never mind!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Though your face may lose its smile,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Never mind!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">For there's sunshine after rain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And then gladness follows pain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">You'll be happy once again,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">Never mind!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The ditty deals with broken vows, and faithless hearts, and blighted +lives; just the sort of song that Tommy loves to warble after a good +meal in the evening. It conjured to the Subaltern's eyes the picture of +the dainty little star who had sung it on the boards of the Coliseum. +And to conclude, Madame's voice, French, and sonorously metallic, was +heard in the dining-room striking up the "Marseillaise." Tommy did not +know a word of it, but he yelled "March on" (a very good translation of +"Marchons") and sang "lar lar" to the rest of the tune.</p> + +<p>Thus passed peacefully enough those five days—the calm before the +storm.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>THE ADVANCE TO MONS</h4> + + +<p>The Battalion had arrived at Iron on a Sunday morning. It had rested +there, while the remainder of the British Army was being concentrated, +until Friday morning. On Thursday night the Battalion Orders made it +clear that a start was to be made. Parade was to be earlier than usual, +and nothing was to be left behind. Every one was very sorry to be +leaving their French friends, and there were great doings that night. +Champagne was produced, and a horrible sort of liquor called "alcahol" +was introduced into the coffee. Such was the generosity of the miller's +people that it was only with the greatest difficulty that the Captain +induced Madame to accept any payment for her kindness. And so in the +chill of that Friday morning the Battalion marched away, not without +many handshakings and blessings from the simple villagers. The Subaltern +often wonders what became of Mesdames, and that excitable son Raoul, and +charming Thérèse, whom the Subalterns had all insisted on kissing before +they left. A very different sort of folk occupy that village now. He +only hopes that his friends escaped them.</p> + +<p>The Battalion joined its Brigade, and the Brigade its Division, and +before the sun was very high in the sky they were swinging along the +"route nationale," due northwards. The day was very hot, and the +Battalion was hurried, with as short halts as possible, towards +Landrécies. As, however, this march was easily surpassed in +"frightfulness" by many others, it will be enough to say that Landrécies +was reached in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>Having seen his men as comfortable as possible in the schools where they +were billeted for the night, the Subaltern threw off his equipment, and +having bought as much chocolate as he and a friend could lay their hands +on, retired to his room and lay down.</p> + +<p>At about seven o'clock in the evening the three Subalterns made their +way to the largest hotel in the town, where they found the rest of the +Mess already assembled at dinner. He often remembered this meal +afterwards, for it was the last that he had properly served for some +time. In the middle of it the Colonel was summoned hastily away by an +urgent message, and before they dispersed to their billets, the +unwelcome news was received that Battalion parade was to be at three +o'clock next morning.</p> + +<p>"This," said he, "is the real beginning of the show. Henceforth, +horribleness."</p> + +<p>A hunk of bread eaten during the first stage of the march was all the +breakfast he could find. Maroilles, a suburb of Landrécies, was passed, +and an hour later a big railway junction. The march seemed to be +directed on Mauberge, but a digression was made to the north-west, and +finally a halt was called at a tiny village called Harignes. The +Subaltern's men were billeted in a large barn opening on to an orchard.</p> + +<p>After a scrap meal, he pulled out some maps to study the country which +lay before them, and what should meet his eye but the field of Waterloo, +with all its familiar names: Charleroi, Ligny, Quatrebras, Genappes, the +names which he had studied a year ago at Sandhurst. Surely these names +of the victory of ninety-nine years ago were a good omen!</p> + +<p>"You've only left Sandhurst a year, you ought to know all about this +country," some one told him.</p> + +<p>A horrible rumour went about that another move was to be made at five +o'clock the same evening, but this hour was subsequently altered to two +o'clock the next morning. That night a five-franc postal order was given +to every man as part of his pay.</p> + +<p>Even in the height of summer there is always a feeling of ghostliness +about nocturnal parades. The darkness was intense. As might be expected, +the men had not by any means recovered from the heat and exertion of the +previous day, and were not in the best of tempers. The Subaltern himself +was so tired that he had to lie down on the cold road at each hourly +halt of ten minutes, and, with his cap for a pillow, sleep soundly for +at least eight of those minutes. Then whistles were sounded ahead, the +men would rise wearily, and shuffle on their equipment with the single +effort that is the hall-mark of a well-trained soldier. The Captain, +passing along the Company, called his attention to the village they were +passing. It was Malplâquet. The grey light of dawn revealed large open +fields. "I expect this is where they fought it out," said the Captain.</p> + +<p>Keeping a close eye upon the map, he could tell almost to a hundred +yards where the boundary of Belgium crossed the road. A few miles +further, a halt for breakfast was ordered, as it was about eight +o'clock. The Colonel called for Company Commanders, and while they were +away Sir John French, followed by Sir Archibald Murray and a few members +of the General Staff, passed by in motors.</p> + +<p>Amongst the hundred-and-one pictures that the Subaltern will always +carry in his mind of the opening stages of the campaign, this one stands +out most vividly. The sun was shining, but it was still cool. On the +right of the road was a thick forest of young firs; on the left, a row +of essentially suburban villas were being built, curiously out of place +in that agricultural district. The men were sitting on the banks of the +road, or clustered round the "Cookers," drawing their breakfast rations +of bread and cold bacon. Then the Major came back. There was an +expression on his face that showed he was well aware of the dramatic +part he was about to play. Imagine him standing by the wayside, +surrounded by his Officers, two Sergeant-Majors, and some half-dozen +senior Sergeants, all with pencils ready poised to write his orders in +their Field Service Note-books. There was a pause of several seconds. +The Major seemed to be at a loss quite how to begin. "There's a lot that +I needn't mention, but this is what concerns this Company," he said with +a jerk. "When we reach" (here he mentioned a name which the Subaltern +has long since forgotten) "we have to deploy to the left, and search the +village of Harmigné to drive the enemy from it, and take up a +position...."</p> + +<p>It was a blow. Officers were frowning over their note-books as if afraid +they had not heard correctly. The enemy here, in the western corner of +Belgium? The Major's orders petered out. They saluted, and returned to +their platoons, feeling puzzled and a little shaken.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern had come to this campaign with such fresh hopes of +victory. This was not to have been a repetition of '70! France would not +have gone to war unless she had been strong and ready. Inspired with the +spirit of the First Republic, the French Armies, they had told +themselves, would surge forward in a wave of victory and beat +successfully against the crumbling sands of the Kaiser's military +monarchy—Victory, drenching Germany with the blood of her sons, and +adding a lustre to the Sun of Peace that should never be dimmed by the +black clouds of Militarism! And all this was not to be? He had never +even heard that Liège had fallen, let alone Brussels, and here were the +Germans apparently right round the Allied flank. It was astounding, +irritating. In a vague way he felt deceived and staggered. It was a +disillusionment! If the Germans were across the Sambre, the French could +scarcely launch their victorious attack on the Rhine.</p> + +<p>The excitement dispelled his fatigue, but the men were openly +incredulous. "The ruddy 'Oolans 'ere a'ready! They're only tellin' us +that, to make us march!"</p> + +<p>The first fight! How would it turn out? How would the men shape? Could +the ammunition supply be depended upon? But above all, what would he be +like? Would he feel afraid? If so, would he be able to hide it? Would +his men follow him well? Perhaps he might be wounded (parts of him +shrank from the thought), or killed. No, somehow he felt it was +impossible that he would be killed. These and a thousand more such +questions flashed through his brain as the march continued northwards.</p> + +<p>The hourly halts were decreased from ten to about three minutes. The +excitement of the future dissolved the accumulating fatigue of the three +days. The very weight of his sword and haversack was forgotten.</p> + +<p>It was Sunday morning. The bells of the village churches were ringing, +and the women and children, decked in their Sunday best, were going +calmly to church, just as if the greatest battle that, up to then, +history had ever seen were not about to be fought around their very +homesteads.</p> + +<p>A waterworks was passed, and at last the crossroads were reached. There +was a wait while the Battalion in front of them deployed. Officers were +loading their revolvers, the men charging their magazines. One Company +left as advanced guard, and very soon the Battalion was on its way to +its appointed sector of the battlefield.</p> + +<p>They threw aside a hastily improvised barricade of ploughshares, and +hurried on to the little village which was to be their especial care in +the impending battle, known rather inadequately as "Mons."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>MONS</h4> + + +<p>Then came the village of Harmigné—just a few cottages on either side of +the road, and soon the companies debouched from the village to take up +the positions allotted to them.</p> + +<p>In war it is well known that he who sees most is likely to take least +away. It was not the soldier's duty to gaze about him to see what was +happening. He must enlarge his bit of trench, and be ready to meet the +enemy when he himself is attacked. Therefore, if you ask a veteran of +Mons about the battle, all he will be able to tell you as likely as not +is, "Marching, and digging, and then marching mostly, sir."</p> + +<p>The Company on the left was astride a railway embankment in front of a +large mine. The Subaltern's Company was directly in front of the village +itself; another Company to the right, the fourth in local reserve. The +work of entrenchment began immediately. There was not time to construct +a trench, as laid down in the Manual of Field Engineering. Each man had +to scrape with his entrenching tool as big a hole as he could before the +enemy came upon him.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern had many things to arrange. The "field of fire" had to be +"cleared," any refuge behind which the enemy might lurk within two +hundred yards of the trenches had to be, if possible, cut down. Sheaves +of corn standing upright presented the first problem for the defence. +Should he burn as many of them as he could, or overturn them, or beat +them down? No, sheaves were not bullet-proof. A man could be shot behind +them just as easily as in the open. Moreover, they would serve to hide +from the enemy artillery the exact lie of his lines. The position of his +trenches, or rather holes, was about a hundred yards in front of the +village, as it would be the first thing that the German artillery would +"search." The Range-taker took the ranges from the trenches to all +prominent objects in front, with an instrument called the "Barr and +Stroud." He then made these figures known to the four section commanders +of the platoon, who in turn communicated them to their men.</p> + +<p>Then he had to get in touch with the commanders on either side, and to +send off a small party to improve what natural obstacles—in this case +wire fences—lay in front. He next went to arrange for the methods of +effecting a retirement, if it should be necessary, breaking through one +or two fences so that this could be effected in perfect order. As some +of the houses were still occupied, he went to the owners, and not +knowing the French for pick and shovel, said: "Monsieur, voulez vous me +prêter des choses pour faire des troux dans la terre?" illustrating it +with pantomime. "Ah, oui, Monsieur, des pioches!" As many of these as +possible were sent forward to the men, together with many pounds of +biscuits which he brought from a shop, and buckets of water for the +wounded.</p> + +<p>So busy had he been that he had almost been unable to interest himself +in the battle which was already beginning to develop on the left. While +he was in the village a stretcher was carried through. The body on it +was covered with a mackintosh sheet, but the man's face was visible, and +if he had not been so busily occupied, the ashen face might have upset +him a little. It was absolutely calm, and its expression was contorted +neither by pain nor hate nor fear—the face of one who was indifferent, +and very, very weak.</p> + +<p>With that he returned to the trenches. "'Ere yer are, sir, I've started +this 'un for yer," one man shouted. He threw off his equipment, and +began to dig as he had never dug before. Each spadeful was safety for +another inch of his body. It was fighting against time for protection of +life and limb. The work was engrossing, exhilarating. Some of the men +were too tired, too apathetic, too lazy to dig trenches as deep as they +might have done. They had to be urged, cajoled, enticed, ordered.</p> + +<p>The day was beautiful, hotter a great deal than those the men were +accustomed to. The Senior Subaltern had been occupying a small hut as an +advanced post. The enemy came within his range in some force, but having +the presence of mind to restrain his men from firing, he managed to +withdraw without loss. All the while the cavalry were being rapidly +driven in.</p> + +<p>This was about three o'clock, and the sound of a terrific bombardment +could be heard from some miles to the left. This puzzled them, as it was +naturally expected that the battle would develop from the north-east. +The regiment on the right had been occupying a small copse; this was set +alight to the rear of them, and they were forced to draw back through +it, which must have been a terrible operation.</p> + +<p>Fresh meat, in the form of a stew, was brought out to the trenches at +about three o'clock. The bombardment on the left, like a terrific +thunderstorm, rolled on till dusk. A few aeroplanes flew overhead, +looking like huge birds in the blue sky. As yet the troops found it very +hard to distinguish the Germans from the English, although several +pamphlets had been issued on the subject.</p> + +<p>As evening drew on, the trenches began to assume a more workmanlike +aspect, although when one got down deeper than three feet the ground was +like chalk and very difficult to cut.</p> + +<p>Thus ended that memorable Sunday, when the English line, the last hope +of the French, was pierced at Mons, when the appearance of a huge force, +above all strong in cavalry, appeared on the left of the English line, +and rendered the whole strategic position of the Allies so dangerous, +that there was nothing for it but to fall back in order to avert a +terrible catastrophe.</p> + +<p>To ensure against surprise, he posted three sentry groups to his front. +They had not been out more than half-an-hour before a huge fusillade +broke out along the whole line. The groups had the greatest difficulty +in crawling back to the trenches without being shot down in mistake for +the enemy. He saw that this "peace method" would have to be given up; +sentries in future would have to remain in the trenches.</p> + +<p>Intermittently throughout the whole night firing continued. A +searchlight had been played continually on the lines, and if anything, +the artillery duel began before it was light.</p> + +<p>This was his first opportunity to watch shell fire. The shells sailed +overhead so slowly that he half expected to see them in their flight. +The noise they made was very difficult to describe. They hurtled, they +whizzed, they shrieked, they sang. He could imagine the thing spinning +in its flight, creating a noise something like steam escaping jerkily +from an engine.</p> + +<p>An English battery was firing from somewhere unseen on the right, to +meet an attack apparently launched on the left. Furious messages were +passed up the line that the artillery were firing on their own men, and +whether this was true or not, soon afterwards the attack ceased.</p> + +<p>At about seven o'clock the Major gave orders to withdraw his Platoon +when the Company on his right should retire. This surprised him; for, +knowing nothing of the general situation, he had felt that they would +hang on, and fight the battle out then and there, to the last gasp. He +gave orders to his section commanders, and then lay down to await the +development of events.</p> + +<p>At about nine o'clock a general retirement seemed to be taking place on +the right. It is a very difficult thing to pick upon exactly the right +moment to retire. If you retire too early, you allow the enemy to +advance without having inflicted sufficient loss, i.e. you allow him +to succeed too cheaply, to say nothing of rendering the position of +units on your flanks precarious. On the other hand, if you hang on to +your position too long, you become committed to a close fight, from +which it is almost impossible to withdraw without the most serious +losses.</p> + +<p>There are no hedges in Belgium; the ground was perfectly open, and the +Subaltern could easily see what was happening on the right. It seemed to +him that some unit delayed too long, for the rest of the line showed +signs of envelopment. Eventually, however, the retirement to the village +was effected quietly, and without loss. He led his Platoon to a second +defensive position about a mile behind the village, but already shells +were beginning to drop around, and even beyond it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>THE BEGINNING OF THE RETREAT</h4> + + +<p>It was from this point that the great "Retreat from Mons" really began. +The road in front of the Battalion was hit by one or two shells. +Apparently it was being "searched," and so the Battalion was hastily +moved into the open fields, assuming what is known as "Artillery +Formation," i.e. small collections of troops, moving on the same +objective, with "irregular distances and depths." By this means many +lives must have been saved. After about a mile of very hurried marching, +through turnip fields and stubble, the road was again reached, and the +Battalion was apparently out of the enemy's range.</p> + +<p>The heat was beginning to be intense. The men had marched for the last +three days almost incessantly, and without sufficient sleep. Sunday +night in the firing-line had been full of excitement of battle, and all +Monday morning had been spent at digging trenches. Imagine the state of +the men! Dirty from digging, with a four days' growth of beard, bathed +in sweat, eyes half closed with want of sleep, "packs" missing, lurching +with the drunken torpor of fatigue, their own mothers would not have +known them! There was no time to rest and sleep, when rest and sleep +were the most desirable things on earth. Those men assuredly knew all +the agonies of a temptation to sell for a few moments' sleep their +liberty and lives.</p> + +<p>During a halt the Subaltern threw himself so heavily in a cabbage patch, +that his revolver became unhitched from his belt, and when the halt was +over he lurched to his feet and on, without noticing its loss. Careless? +Perhaps, but one of his men lost his rifle and never noticed it, because +he was carrying a spade!</p> + +<p>There was, however, one consolation. The Germans had for the time been +shaken off; although the noise of battle could still be heard +uncomfortably near on the left. But if one waits long enough, the +hottest sun must go to rest, and drag its horrible day with it. About +six o'clock the Battalion at last came up with its "Cookers" and +transport. Glory of glories, rest had at last been achieved! Never had +bacon been so welcome, never tea so desirable, so stimulating, so +wonderful.</p> + +<p>The Quartermaster-Sergeant had some terrifying tales for the Company +Mess about disasters on less fortunate parts of the line; but there was +no time to go into the matter, for the Battalion was ordered to parade +immediately. This was the last straw! The men had been looking forward +to, and longing for a good sleep that night. Every aching limb of their +bodies cried out for rest, and here they were going to be put on outpost +duty for yet another night. Imagine their state of mind! Is there a +word to cope with the situation? Assuredly not, though great efforts +were made! Darkness fell so swiftly that the Officers had scarcely time +to "site" the position of their trenches. Then the weary business of +entrenching began again. Have you ever heard the tinkering, tapping, +thudding sounds made by entrenching implements or spades? None of the +men who heard it that night will ever forget it. It will give them a +memory of energy, promoted by the desire for safety, clogged by heat and +fatigue.</p> + +<p>At about eleven or twelve at night a fair cover had been made, and the +long-sought rest became possible at last—not, however, the sleep that +the Subaltern had been longing for all day, not complete oblivion to +body and mind, for the fear of surprise was upon him even in his sleep, +and he knew that if his precautions should prove insufficient, he would +have to answer for sixty good lives. In addition there was the cold of +the cloudless night, and the clinging wetness of the dew. These things +would not have allowed him to sleep, even if he could.</p> + +<p>A fresh day began very similar to the last. There were no signs of the +enemy to the immediate front, so the work of entrenching continued. A +"fatigue party" went to draw rations, which were distributed at about +seven o'clock. This was their first introduction to "bully" beef and +hard biscuits. Also, wonder of wonders, a "mail" was distributed.</p> + +<p>He was lying in the corn just beginning to eat a biscuit and read a +letter, when the voice of the Senior Subaltern called him from somewhere +up the line. Thinking that he had got another letter, or something of +that sort, he did not wait to put letters and rations in his haversack, +but went straight to his Senior. "A party of Uhlans, about 100 strong, +have broken through the line further up. We have got to prevent them +from taking us by surprise on this flank. So you had better take a +couple of sections to keep them off." Commands on the battlefield must +never be didactic and narrow. Tell a man what to do, give him his +mission, and how he will carry it out, the methods he will employ, are +for himself to determine.</p> + +<p>He hurriedly collected his men and took up a position astride a road +that ran behind, parallel to the lines. In peace-time manoeuvres one +had generally been told the direction from which to expect the enemy, +hours before he actually came; now, when the great game was being played +in real earnest, he found that he had to guess. The Uhlans might have +come unsuspecting along the road, in which case the game would be his; +or they might come blundering along from somewhere in the rear and +enfilade him, in which case the game would most assuredly be theirs. +Fortunately, the Uhlans did not come at all.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile a very rare and lucky circumstance was beginning to be +apparent. The enemy were actually attacking from the direction they +were expected! But this was only to be a rear-guard action, so he never +saw his rations or letters again, after all.</p> + +<p>The Senior Subaltern was left to "hold out" in a small cottage in the +firing-line until the rest had "got away." With characteristic +forethought and presence of mind he not only got his men away without +loss, but seized all luxuries in the place!</p> + +<p>As on the day before, in getting clear away from the enemy, the Company +had to pass a large stretch of ground which was being literally peppered +with shrapnel. The noise was louder than it had seemed on the previous +day. Thunder seemed muffled beside it. Moreover, thunder rolled—seemed +to spread itself into space—but not so with bursting shells. The clap +of sound caused by one is more confined, more localised, more intense. +The earth seems to quiver under it. It suggests splitting, a terrible +splitting. Only the nerves of the young and healthy can stand it. It +would not be so bad if one could see the thing whistling through the +air, or even when it bursts; but one cannot. After the crash a man may +scream or moan, totter and fall, but for all one can see he might have +been struck down by the wrath of God.</p> + +<p>The road safely reached, the retreat was continued, but under very +trying circumstances for the Company. The Brigadier in charge of the +rear-guard action, not having sufficient cavalry at his disposal, +ordered the Company to take up the rôle of flank-guard to the retreating +column. The Company, extended over a long front, had to move across +rough country, intersected with all sorts of obstacles, at the same rate +as the infantry on the road, "which," as Euclid says, "is impossible." +In war, however, the logically "impossible" is not impossible really, +only very fatiguing.</p> + +<p>Things grew from bad to worse. The men could no longer keep their places +in the ranks. If one had seen them and not known the spirit of the +British Army, one would have thought that they were a dispirited, +defeated rabble. Yet, in their own minds, the Officers and men had no +doubts about what was going to happen: they were going to fight even +though they might not sleep; and their determination was shaken not one +whit.</p> + +<p>There was a very welcome halt for an hour in the town, for the men to +fill their water-bottles and rest.</p> + +<p>The men's feet were beginning to suffer terribly, for the road along +which they were marching had been cobbled—cobbles, not as we know them +in England, but rounded on the surface—cobbles that turned one's +ankles, cobbles that the nails of one's boots slipped on, that were +metallic, that "gave" not the fraction of a millimetre. The hob-nails in +the Subaltern's boots began to press through the soles. To put his feet +to the ground was an agony, and they swelled with the pain and heat. The +bones of them ached with bearing his weight. They longed for air, to be +dangling in some cool, babbling stream. The mental strain of the +morning's action was as nothing compared to the physical pain of the +afternoon. The Colonel, seeing his plight, offered to lend him his +horse, but he thanked him and declined, as there is a sort of grim pride +in "sticking it." The men, too, took an unreasonable objection to seeing +their Officers avail themselves of these lifts. Then the heavens were +kind, and it rained; they turned faces to the clouds and let the drops +fall on their features, unshaven, glazed with the sun, and clammy with +sweat. They took off their hats and extended the palms of their hands. +It was refreshing, invigorating, a tonic.</p> + +<p>Somebody had heard the General say that they should have a rest, a real +rest, that night. High hopes filled weary hearts. It got about that they +were to be billeted in that suburb of Landrécies through which they had +passed, Maroilles.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4>DARKNESS</h4> + + +<p>At about five o'clock on that aching day, Maroilles was reached. All +through the streets there were halts and delays, intolerable to those in +whom the want of rest had become a positive passion. At last the members +of the billeting party were sighted—here at last was rest and sleep....</p> + +<p>Many a slip 'twixt cup and lip! The General, followed by the +Brigade-Major and an orderly, came trotting down the road. A few hasty +commands were thrown at the Adjutant, accompanied by gesticulations +towards the road leading out of the town. Assuredly some fresh devilment +was rife, and for the moment, anyway, the cup had slipped. An attack on +the town was expected by a large detachment of cavalry. The wretched men +had to be hurried out, to line a row of hedges to the west of the town. +They waited about half-an-hour, but saw not a sign of the famous +square-crested Uhlan helmet. It appeared that the enemy had been content +with destroying the canal bridge, which formed the communication between +Maroilles and Landrécies, and had then withdrawn. There was a whole +brigade in Maroilles, which was therefore cut off from the rest of the +division, and from its natural line of retreat. That, however, did not +greatly upset the rank and file, and billets were at last achieved.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern found that he was billeted in the same house as the +Headquarters of the Battalion—Colonel, Second in Command, Adjutant, +etc. His servant brought him his valise from the Regimental Transport, +and he began to change the offending boots for a fresh pair, without +nails.</p> + +<p>Some one procured a footbath, and ablutions began.</p> + +<p>The Medical Officer came in to say that the Colonel seemed to be very +ill. The Subaltern was glad he had declined the offer of his horse. He +then began to shave and wash. Just as he was in the middle of this, with +his boots and puttees off, his Captain came in to say that his Platoon +was being sent off as infantry escort to a battery of artillery. By the +time he had redressed himself, the Battery and his Platoon had both +gone. The streets were filled by French peasants, as usual excited and +garrulous, and by men settling down to their billets. The Subaltern +failed absolutely to discover what route his Platoon had taken, but +pursuing the road along which they had come, he soon left the town.</p> + +<p>It was raining and blowing most fiercely; the darkness was intense, +otherwise absolute silence reigned. Suddenly, excitedly, a voice, +saturated with fear, cried out from the darkness, "Who goes there?" A +face, with a bayonet in front of it, loomed up from the side of the +road. "Friend!" this tersely. "Sentry, have you seen a battery of +artillery and a platoon of ——shires pass here?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; you're nearly in the outpost line. There's only Royal +Blankshires in front, sir."</p> + +<p>So they had evidently not come this way. Where next? They must be found. +He felt that to lose his men would be a sort of dishonour. Even while he +was thinking, a shout was wafted on the wind out of the darkness and +chasing it, overtaking it almost, a rifle shot. It was as if a match had +been applied to the whole line. With the rapidity of wind the crackling +spread to either side.</p> + +<p>Soon the whole line in front was blazing away into the darkness. Should +the Subaltern stop and try to lend assistance where he was, or hurry +back to his own unit? Before long a couple of men rushed along the road +crying out for Stretcher Bearers, and he learnt from one of them that in +the darkness and confusion of the retreat, British had been fighting +with British. The pitch darkness shrouded every action with a ghastly +uncertainty.</p> + +<p>Then news came through that another bridge had been captured. A fresh +company arrived in reinforcement. There was nothing for it but to effect +a retreat before the morning light could betray their weakness to the +Germans. Apparently, however, the capture of the bridge had only been a +precautionary measure, for the enemy did not press his attack home.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern saw that the best thing he could do would be to return to +the remainder of his Battalion at Maroilles. If he were to grope about +the countryside in the dark, looking for "that battery," he would most +likely be shot down for a spy; moreover, in a little over two hours the +morning would dawn. So he trudged back to Maroilles.</p> + +<p>He felt that he ought to have been on the verge of exhaustion from lack +of food and from fatigue, and he vaguely wondered why he was not. The +truth was that the excitement of the attack, coupled with the chill of +the night, had restored him in mind and body, although he had marched +over twenty miles on the previous day, had had no sleep that night, and +no meal since the evening of the battle of Mons.</p> + +<p>The Battalion was taking its rest as well as it could on the pavement of +the street, so as to be ready to move at a minute's notice. The +Subaltern found his Major, and reported that he had failed to find his +Platoon. The Major was too sleepy to be annoyed. "I expect they'll turn +up," he said. "We got some food in that house there; I should go and see +if there is any left, if I were you."</p> + +<p>Followed a couple of hours or so of interrupted sleep, disturbed by the +cold. Then came dawn, and with it the shells whizzing and bursting over +the town.</p> + +<p>The retreat of the Brigade had been cut off by the breaking of the canal +bridge the previous evening, so the Battalion had to retire to the east, +and not to the west. As the Subaltern marched along he reflected with +grim amusement on the ease with which the most confirmed Sybarite can +get accustomed to hardships. At home, if he did anything early on an +empty stomach, he very soon felt faint and tired. Now, this was taken as +a matter of course; one was only too glad to restore the circulation to +the limbs, cramped with the cold and damp of dawn.</p> + +<p>An hour or so later they ran into a French Battalion, apparently +preparing to occupy an outpost position along the bank of the road. This +was a cheering sight. Tommy, who had expected to fight mixed up in some +weird way with "le petit Piou-Piou," had not yet seen a Frenchman in +action. In a vague way he fancied that "the Frenchies" had "let him +down." He knew nothing of the battles of Charleroi and Namur, nor of the +defence of Verdun, and the French were getting dreadfully unpopular with +him. Things were thrown at any one who ventured to sing the +"Marseillaise."</p> + +<p>"Oh, '<i>ere</i> they are; so they '<i>ave</i> come. Well, that's somethink."</p> + +<p>The "Marseillaise" broke out once again.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, Bill, there's too much of this ruddy 'Marslasie' abaht this +'ere show."</p> + +<p>"'Ow d'you mean, Sam?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's all 'March on, March on.' I'm ruddy sick of it!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>VENÉROLLES</h4> + + +<p>At this point the Battalion turned in a south-westerly direction, +passing through a village in which the French and English Headquarters +were quartered in "estaminets" on either side of the road. No doubt both +were prosecuting their work equally successfully, but the Subaltern +could not help remarking the quietness of the one, and the excitement, +volubility, and apparent confusion of the other. Still, he thought, +different people have different ways of doing things.</p> + +<p>Apparently to compensate for having no breakfast, the Battalion was +halted in an orchard. The men filled their haversacks with apples and +pears, and consumed scarcely ripe plums with an avidity that made the +Officers fear that at least half of the Battalion would be in the grip +of colic before the night.</p> + +<p>Because it was a cloudy day, or perhaps because one reaches a second +heat in physical and mental fatigue, the Subaltern did not feel so bad +that day. The men, too, recovered their spirits. He began to think it +was good to march on an empty stomach. The sight of French cavalry with +their holland-covered helmets and curved sabres, suggested ample +support. This would mean at least a rest before the next fight, he told +himself.</p> + +<p>These "drâgons" seemed exceedingly intelligent and superior men. They +were quite preoccupied, like men who are going to do something. There +was none of that inane shouting "A bas les Bosches." Later on, some +transport columns were passed, and the men descended from their wagons +and distributed bread to the English.</p> + +<p>All day long the sound of guns rolled along to the right. The sound +seemed to move parallel to them, otherwise the day's march was +uneventful. At about half-past five in the evening the Battalion +suddenly struck the "route nationale," along which they had advanced +north of Etreux. There had been a feeling, once again, that the enemy +had been successfully shaken off by the rapidity of the retreat.</p> + +<p>Once again came disillusionment, for here were the Guards' Brigade +entrenching themselves for the night. Apparently there had been very +severe fighting around Etreux, which had resulted in a check to the +enemy, for the moment, at any rate. The Regiment, however, passed +through Etreux, and was eventually ordered to occupy a defensive +position around the village of Venérolles. Darkness fell so suddenly +that the Company Commanders had the greatest difficulty in selecting +good positions. Eventually the Subaltern's Platoon was placed astride a +sunken lane, along the edge of an orchard. The position was a happy +one, and since the hedge that stretched along its front was thick and +about ten feet high, it seemed safe from surprise.</p> + +<p>It was now quite dark, and the men had not had a meal since the few +biscuits which had been given out in the early morning. At last, +however, the Regimental Transport was heard creaking up the small lane +which led to the position. Then the trouble began. The road was dark, +deeply rutted and narrow, and crossed by a little stream. A nervous +horse took fright at the running water, dashed up one of the banks, and +firmly embedded the water-cart, which he was pulling, in the other, thus +effectively blocking the way.</p> + +<p>When the Subaltern, having seen everything safe for the night, was +returning to report to the Major, he found something akin to confusion +in the Transport. Horses were neighing, backing, plunging, making things +worse, as only horses can. If the Regiment had been attacked that night, +and forced to retire, the way was so completely obstructed that it would +probably have been annihilated, as the Transport did not get safely away +until just before dawn.</p> + +<p>He had had no proper food or drink for twenty-four hours, so one can +easily imagine how pleased he was to see the Major and the Captain +seated around a table in a little hovel of a cottage, just about to +demolish some tea and bread and marmalade.</p> + +<p>The air was charged with electricity caused by four men nervously +awaiting the boiling of the kettle, and trying to conceal their +impatience.</p> + +<p>"Poor old —— must have lost himself," said the Major, referring to the +Senior Subaltern, "or he'd be here by now; he has a wonderful nose for +food."</p> + +<p>However, half-way through the meal he came in, admitting that he had +lost himself, and wandered into another Regiment's lines.</p> + +<p>After the meal they returned to their Platoons, and spent the usual +miserable night in their usual miserable way, cramped by the usual +miserable damp. Next morning the Regiment was moved further out, to the +top of the ridge, to protect the retreat of the remaining two Brigades +and their Transport Columns. Luckily the enemy was not in sufficient +force to drive this covering party in.</p> + +<p>When the Division had got clear away, the Brigade resumed the column of +route formation, and the retreat was continued. Once again during the +morning a German Taube flew overhead. A violent fusillade broke out from +the road, from which the aeroplane suffered less than the men, as they +were in too close formation to fire properly. A vast quantity of +ammunition was wasted, and the position and strength of the column was +thus demonstrated to the airman. It was decided in future to hide as +completely as possible, whenever an enemy aeroplane hove in sight, and +not on any account to fire at it.</p> + +<p>Later on a German patrol menaced the column, but, having forced it to +deploy in some measure, withdrew. The rest of the march passed +uneventfully, but the country became less flat than hitherto—an +addition to their trials!</p> + +<p>He tried his French on the Battalion's interpreter, who in peace time +had been an Avocat in Paris, and who told him many things of the French +Army. He spoke of its dauntless patriotism, its passionate longing for +revenge, fostered for many long years of national subservience; the +determination to avenge the humiliations of Delcassé, of Agadir, of the +Coronation at Versailles. As vivacious and eloquent as only one of his +nation and calling can be, he praised the confidence of the French Army +and its "Généralissime." He repeated the great names of the army—De +Castlenau, Percin, Sarrail, and many more unknown to the Subaltern. He +spoke with deep feeling. A spark of the fire that, in her hours of need, +never fails his country, had descended upon him, and, in the eyes of the +stolid British soldiers around, transformed him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h4>ST. QUENTIN AND LA FÈRE</h4> + + +<p>In the afternoon a large town was reached, probably St. Quentin, through +which long trains of Motor Transport were rumbling. A halt was made some +miles to the south of this town. While they were taking their evening +meal the ever-pursuing sound of artillery fire was heard from over the +ridge. Two of the companies were hastily fallen in, and marched away to +this scene of activities, to undergo probably yet another rear-guard +action. The remaining companies were then set to dig themselves in, +astride the road.</p> + +<p>As you have seen from these rough descriptions of the first three days +of the battle in Belgium, the most that is seen of the enemy is but a +passing glimpse. If the Higher Command decide that to give battle in any +determined measure would be to expose their force to unnecessary chances +of defeat, and to endanger the ultimate success of the campaign, it is +very unlikely that the infantry soldier will see his enemy at a distance +of less than five or six hundred yards. There is always the danger, if +the enemy are allowed to come to close quarters, that the defenders will +find themselves so pinned to their ground that it is impossible to +extricate themselves from their position without losses of greater +magnitude than would be warranted by the success obtained. So far this +Division, at any rate, had succeeded in their mission of delaying the +enemy by forcing him to deploy, at the same time taking the greatest +care to refuse open battle.</p> + +<p>Most of the younger Subalterns had very primitive ideas on the general +strategy of the campaign. There would be a wait, they thought, as the +English Army would probably be used as general reserve; then there would +be "the devil of a battle," ending in Victory or Defeat, and followed by +a glorious life (or death), and that would be the end of the matter. It +would be over by Christmas, "easy." The actual course of events was very +different. The English had encountered the enemy in the first onslaught +of battle, and there had been neither Victory nor Defeat—nothing but +retreat, retreat, retreat, over twenty miles a day, in the blazing heat +of sunny France, with the fear of capture for those who lagged +behind....</p> + +<p>The fighting was not like those battles on Laffans Plain, where you +fought quickly and decisively, and where, "win, draw, or lose," you were +home in time for tea. You were told all about it beforehand by the +Colonel, or Brigadier, and sometimes the "show" approached interest. +Here everything was different. This was the real thing. Yet there seemed +less reality in it than in the mock battles of Aldershot, with their +mock situations, tired charges and rattling bolts. Here you knew +nothing, you were barely told where to move. There were none of those +charming little papers headed: "<i>General Idea, White Army moving on</i>, +etc...." and: "<i>Special Idea, the nth Infantry Brigade, commanded by</i>, +etc. etc...." The "General Idea" of this campaign remained absolute +darkness; and already pessimists began to fear that Christmas would not +see them back at home.</p> + +<p>As far as eagerness to meet the enemy was concerned the "morale" was as +high as ever, but nevertheless the temper of the troops was beginning to +be badly shaken. They did not understand the necessity for retreat; for +not a word had been whispered of other set-backs. They had a ridiculous, +but nevertheless firmly lodged, impression that this prolonged retreat +was just another of those needless "fatigues" to which they were so +often put, and vaguely they resented it, distrusted the necessity for +it. Mr. Thomas Atkins found it difficult to believe in the existence of +Germans whom he could not see. In a word, he was beginning to be "fed +up"; especially the reservists, oldish men who had been called from +their homes, bundled once more into uniforms, hurried to a foreign land +of which they knew nothing, and pushed into a battle which showed great +promise of becoming a "débacle."</p> + +<p>But you must not blame the men for this. You must remember that they had +left England before the spirit of patriotism had been re-kindled. They +felt, and before reams of paper had been scattered broadcast to prove +the contrary the feeling was very prevalent, that great diplomatic +blunders must have been made for the situation to have reached such an +impasse. Germany had been out for war before: witness Agadir and similar +disturbances in the diplomatic world which occurred with almost +monotonous regularity every August. Previously war had simply been +denied to Germany. Why not once again? And so on, and so forth. Probably +they did not really believe or mean half they said. They were thirsty, +hungry, and very, very tired.</p> + +<p>The soldier at Malplâquet shook the powder from his wig, and grumbled as +only a soldier and a Britain can.</p> + +<p>His descendant at Mons did just the same thing. And after he had got his +"grouse" off his chest, fought all the better for it.</p> + +<p>Although an alarming rumour reached them that the enemy, crowded into +motor buses, had already reached St. Quentin, nothing disturbed their +rest during the night, and by dawn the column was swinging along the +road to La Fère. The men were always depressed and weary in the early +morning. Their spirits never began to rise until eight or nine o'clock. +Then songs would break out. "Who were you with last night?" "Hold your +hand out, naughty boy!" and the inevitable "Tipperary," were the +favourites. They would often whistle the "Marseillaise." A certain +"swing" entered into the marching; there was less changing step, less +shuffling. Even their weary faces brightened. Jokes became positively +prolific, and the wit of the barrack-room, considered as wit, is far +funnier than the humour of the Mess. Perhaps it is founded on a deeper +knowledge of life.</p> + +<p>Towards midday, almost imperceptibly, the gist of the songs changed to +the sentimental, and before very long the heat and fatigue gradually +overcame the men, and songs ceased altogether. As a general rule, after +two o'clock the mental attitude of the troops might be described as +black, distinctly black.</p> + +<p>The rumour ran down the column that La Fère was to be the termination of +that day's march, and as La Fère was only a matter of ten miles away, it +was felt that at last an "easy" day had arrived. The road led through +very pleasant places along a river valley, the opposite slope of which +was wooded. That morning, too, there was no suspicion of artillery fire. +It seemed that, for the moment at any rate, they had escaped the +inconvenience of battle. Somebody said that La Fère was fortified. +Behind its works they would doubtless stand, rest, and then perhaps +fight. (Even yet they had not learnt the futility of speculation.)</p> + +<p>Those ten miles were long ones. It almost seemed to their tantalised +nerves that La Fère was not a town, but a mirage. And so it was, or at +least their thoughts of rest and water and food remained "in nebulis."</p> + +<p>Outside the town was a road-crossing. One way led to the main street of +the town, and the other way to the south. To the consternation and +amazement of everybody, the khaki ribbon crept, not towards the houses, +but seemed for a dreadful moment to hesitate, to wobble, then turned its +head slowly and irrevocably away from the town. The men swore. They felt +that they were a scale on the skin of a long, sombre, khaki serpent, +whose head had acted contrary to the wishes of its belly. And the body +of the serpent quivered with indignation. The Subaltern himself felt +that he had been cheated, lured on by false pretences, and generally +treated shamefully. He knew perfectly well that these ideas were +groundless and absurd. He knew that the halt at La Fère was only rumour; +he knew long marches were the only thing to save them, but in spite of +this knowledge he was angry, enraged. The blood flew still more to his +burning cheeks, his teeth snapped together. If he could, he would have +flown to the head of the column, drawn his revolver, and emptied it in +the face of that General. He positively enjoyed picturing the results of +such a crime. He chortled over the idea of the plump figure falling from +the comfortable saddle to the hard, hot road. He imagined the neat red +cap lying in the grey dust. And his boots, he knew what they would be +like—glossy mahogany! Why should any one have shining boots, when his +own were dull and bursting? Why should any one be clean and shaven when +his own face was smeared with dirt and stubble? He exulted inwardly at +the thought of the death and mutilation of some one who had never done +him the slightest harm, and whose efficiency had probably saved his +life.</p> + +<p>Such is human nature!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4>SIR JOHN FRENCH</h4> + + +<p>A few miles south of La Fère, the Brigade was halted in an orchard for +its midday rest. Taking from his pockets the various parts of his safety +razor, the Subaltern screwed them together, and with the help of a bit +of soap, from which the biscuit crumbs and chocolate dust of his +haversack had first to be carefully scraped, he shaved. As he was +returning, lovingly fingering his once more smooth cheeks, he saw three +large Daimler limousines draw up opposite the lines, and recognised them +immediately as the authorised pattern of car for the use of the higher +British Generals in the field.</p> + +<p>An Officer hurriedly got out, and held open the door with great +deference, while a second alighted. The Subaltern easily recognised +both. The first was the Chief of the General Staff—Sir Archibald +Murray. He was a figure of middle height, with a slight stoop, and slow +movements. His face was kindly, mobile—not at all the conventional +military face. The mouth was tight shut, as if to suppress all the +little humours and witticisms that teemed in the quick blue eyes.</p> + +<p>The other figure, short and dapper in build, quick and nervous in +motion, need not be described. The blue eyes, the pink skin and white +hair of the Field-Marshal Commanding-in-Chief are known wherever our +language is spoken.</p> + +<p>Two of the Colonels came forward and saluted as only a senior officer +can. A private salutes like a machine; a subaltern is awkward, but a +senior officer manages somehow to insinuate into this simple movement +deference and admiration, backed, as it were, with determination and +self-reliance.</p> + +<p>It is as if he were to say: "I have the greatest esteem for you as a +great man. I admire your brain and breeding, and will execute your +commands with the precision and promptitude that they deserve. But in a +lesser sort of way I am just the same, a great man; do not forget it!"</p> + +<p>And in response the salute of the great man seems to say: "I heartily +appreciate the deference which you have shown me, and honour it the more +as it comes from such a man as you." Like the bow of a Versailles +courtier, it has its finer points, and is not to be learnt either soon +or easily.</p> + +<p>The men were called round without any formality, and Sir John French +began immediately to address them. It was not the first time that the +Subaltern had heard him speak. As Chief of the Imperial General Staff, +he used to inspect and address the Cadets of the Royal Military College, +Sandhurst, at the end of each term. And he did it well. The Subaltern +remembered the sight of the long parade—"three sides of a square" the +formation was called—and the Generals with the skirts of their "frock" +coats and the feathers in their hats blowing in the wind. But in spite +of the absence of red coats, and the stiffness of parade, this was a +more moving harangue than any he had heard on the parade ground at +Sandhurst.</p> + +<p>The Field-Marshal said that the greatest battle that had ever been +fought was just over. It had rolled with the fury of a cyclone from +Belfort to Mons. Nearly two million men had been engaged, and the +British Army had emerged from the contest covered with glory, having for +three days maintained an unbroken front in the face of an overwhelming +superiority in numbers. Never had he been more proud to be a British +soldier than he was that day. The Regiment had added yet another branch +to its laurel wreath. It had more than sustained its ancient traditions +for endurance and courage. He was proud of it.</p> + +<p>The enemy had been nearly five to one, and yet had been unable to +inflict defeat upon them. If they had been "broken," the whole of the +French left would have assuredly perished. Thanks to their endurance and +obedience in the face of great provocation and privation, the Allied +armies were now free from the dangers that had threatened them. No one +knew better than he did that they would continue to be as brave, as +reliable, and as soldierly in the future, as they had been in the past, +until final victory had been fully accomplished!...</p> + +<p>How they cheered him as he made his way to his car!</p> + +<p>At first the Tommies had not realised what was happening. There had been +disturbing cries of "What's all this abart?" "Oo's the 'ole bloke?" But +they had soon ceased, and in a few seconds the men were crowding round +with eager faces, hanging on the words of their leader. He commiserated +with them upon their losses; he understood what they had been through. +In a word, he appreciated them, and in the Army appreciation is a "rare +and refreshing fruit." Although they would have died rather than own it, +there was a feeling of tears behind the eyes of a good many of those +tough old warriors. The personality of the Field-Marshal, and his +heartening words, had brightened many a grim face, and lightened many a +heavy load.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h4>A PAUSE, AND MORE MARCHING</h4> + + +<p>A village called Amigny was reached at about six o'clock in the evening, +and here the Battalion, in its usual evening state of prostration, was +billeted.</p> + +<p>The Company settled down in the chief "estaminet" of the place. The +decision was a faulty one. The old woman who was hostess gave way to +hysterics at the thought of having to provide for five large, hungry and +nervous officers. She was a horrid old woman—mean, dirty, and if the +Captain's word could be taken as strict truth, immoral. Still, a roof to +cover their heads was an unusual blessing, and it was not long before +they were all sound asleep.</p> + +<p>Next morning there was no parade in the grey of dawn. As the first +chilly beam of light crept into the room the Subaltern turned in his +sleep, and smiled at the complete luxury of prolonged rest. They did not +get up till eight, and having dressed, washed, and even shaved, they had +what the "hostess" called breakfast. And still nothing happened, no +breathless orderly delivered the usual order. What had happened?</p> + +<p>The Senior Subaltern, who was suspected of leanings towards matrimony, +began to write a letter.</p> + +<p>The Captain, who was energetic, began to play billiards on the miniature +pocketless table. Later on the Colonel came in. It was not an official +visit, only to warn them to be ready to move at any moment. Having +thanked the old woman, he left in a singularly peaceful frame of mind.</p> + +<p>At half-past twelve they moved on to a small hill just outside the +village, which they proceeded to put into a state of defence. They heard +that afternoon of a large counter-attack launched in the neighbourhood +of Guise, which had been successful in temporarily relieving the +pressure on the British Front. Here it was that they first heard rumours +of the affair off Heligoland, which had become inflated into a +tremendous victory for the British Fleet. Apparently half the German +Fleet had been sent to the bottom of the sea, and you can imagine the +state of enthusiasm that was caused by this news. They felt that, no +matter what might happen to them on the battlefields of France, their +homes at any rate were freed from the menace of the German. To add to +their jubilation, instead of having to spend the night in the trenches +they had dug, they were marched back, for some inexplicable reason, to +their billets in the village.</p> + +<p>Next morning they paraded as soon as it was light, and the retreat was +continued throughout the day.</p> + +<p>There was a very marked change in the country. The open cornfields were +replaced by woods of such a dense nature that any operations would have +been impossible. Curious as it may seem, the Subaltern had in some way +been upset by the previous day's break in the usual marching routine. +The heat seemed more intense than ever; his haversack and equipment more +cumbersome. But the roads were now avenues, and the overhanging branches +provided very welcome shade.</p> + +<p>They emerged from the woods, once more to strike out in the glaring +sunlight. Soon a hill was seen in the distance, surmounted by a quaint +and squat tower, very reminiscent of Windsor. The houses which clustered +beneath it formed the little town of Coucy-le-Chateau. They camped out +in an open field beneath the hill, and by stripping a couple of +haystacks made themselves fairly comfortable. They must have very +effectually shaken off the enemy, for the General did not think it +necessary to put out outposts.</p> + +<p>The next morning, this time well before dawn, the retreat was continued, +apparently on Soissons. Precisely the same thing happened on this day as +on the march to La Fère. Soissons was no great distance from Coucy, only +some eight or ten miles, and just when they reached the northern heights +of the Aisne, and the whole town was visible, the Brigade sheered off to +the right, and clung to the river bank.</p> + +<p>Soissons looked so particularly inviting, the whites and greys and +primroses of its walls flashing in the sun. The sight of a French town +(in the distance) is very pleasing to any one used to the terra-cotta +reds of England. The cobbles give the streets such a medieval air, the +green shutters seem so queer, and there is such a disdain of geometry. +But when one gets right into the town, a violent change comes over the +scene. The cobbles that were so pleasantly medieval in the distance +become, under one's feet, nothing but an ankle-turning plague. The +stuccoed walls look very clean in the distance, but near to, the filth +of the streets modifies one's admiration. A small French town generally +reminds one of the outhouses and styes of a farm. The air is diffuse +with the scent of manure. England, with all thy drainage system, I love +thee still!</p> + +<p>The road now clung to the river, which was not actually crossed until +two or three o'clock in the afternoon. The bridge was a large and +substantial structure, and a section of Engineers were preparing to blow +it up. Before the hour's halt was over, the inevitable alarm occurred, +and two companies were detached to fight the usual rear-guard action, +under the Major, who was now second-in-command.</p> + +<p>The remainder of the Battalion continued the march, this time along the +south bank of the river.</p> + +<p>The heat was as usual intense, and to-day they missed the shady trees +that had so well protected them the day before. A couple of hours later +they turned abruptly to the left, that is to say, southwards, and the +Aisne disappeared in a cleft of the hills. Winding tortuously at the +feet of more or less steep slopes—for the country was quite +changed—progress was not as easy as it had been. At last, close on +seven o'clock, a halt was made on a hillside.</p> + +<p>Men fell to the ground with a grunt, thanking God that another of those +Hell-days was over. Too tired to move, even if the position was an +uncomfortable one; too tired to pray for rest; too tired to think!</p> + +<p>The average man is, I am sure, quite ignorant of the effect which +extreme exhaustion has on the brain. As the weary hours drag by, it +seems as if a deadness, a sort of paralysis, creeps up the limbs, +upwards towards the head. The bones of the feet ache with a very +positive pain. It needs a concentration of mind that a stupefied brain +can ill afford to give to force the knees to keep from doubling under +the weight of the body. The hands feel as if they were swelling until +the boiling blood would ooze from the finger-tips. The lungs seem too +exhausted to expand; the neck too weary to support the heavy head. The +shoulders ache under the galling weight of sword and haversack, and +every inch of clammy skin on the body seems ten times as sensitive as it +normally is. The nerves in the face and hands feel like swelled veins +that itch so that they long to be torn by the nails. The tongue and eyes +seem to expand to twice their usual size. Sound itself loses its sharp +conciseness, and reaches the brain only as a blurred and indistinct +impression.</p> + +<p>But perhaps the reader may say that he has once done twenty-five or +thirty miles in a day, and did not feel half as bad as that. He must +remember, however, that these men had been doing over twenty-five miles +every day for the last ten days, and that, in addition to the physical +fatigue, they had suffered the mental fatigue caused by fighting. Their +few hours of halting were generally occupied by trench digging. They +were not having a fifth of the sleep that such a life requires. They +were protected neither from the heat of noon nor from the chill of dawn. +The food they got was not fresh food, and their equipment weighed ninety +pounds! Lesser men would have died; men imbued with a feebler +determination would have fainted. As it was, the transport was crowded +with men whose feet had failed them, and many must have fallen behind, +to be killed or made prisoner. The majority "stuck it" manfully, and +faced every fresh effort with a cool, gruff determination that was +wonderful. This spirit saved the Allies from the first frenzied blow of +Germany, in just the same way that it had saved England from the Armada +and from Napoleon.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern realised the value of his men; indeed, he felt a wholesome +trust and faith in them that individual outbursts of bad temper or lack +of discipline could not shake. They occupied, more than they had ever +done before, the greater part of his thoughts and attention. He made +their safety and comfort his first care, and protected them from +ridiculous orders and unnecessary fatigue. He found himself watching and +playing upon their moods. He tried very hard and earnestly to make them +a good officer. He thought that they were the salt of the earth, that +there never had been men like them, nor would be again.</p> + +<p>No sooner had a scanty meal been rammed down their throats than they +were paraded once more, and hurried away to the crest of another ridge. +One of the Aisne bridges had been left standing, and apparently the +enemy was across it, and already threatening to envelop their position. +Having reached higher ground they stopped for what was left of the +night, since it was impossible for the enemy cavalry to attack them in +that country.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h4>A REAR-GUARD ACTION</h4> + + +<p>In a couple of hours' time the march was continued in the darkness. The +men lurched from side to side, with brains too fagged to control their +feet. The Company was sent out to act as flank-guard on the top of the +crest beneath which the column was moving. This movement was very +tiresome, as they had to move over broken country in an <i>extended</i> +formation, and to keep up with the column which was moving in <i>close</i> +formation along the road. To compensate for this they were able to fill +their haversacks with a peculiarly sweet kind of apple.</p> + +<p>Later in the morning they emerged from the close country into the +typical open plains of France, covered with corn and vegetables. About +five or six miles of this, and then the darker greens of pine and fir +forests appeared in view.</p> + +<p>The General Staff had selected this as the site of yet another +rear-guard action. One of the other Brigades in the Division was already +busily engaged in constructing a line of trenches not more than a +hundred yards in front of the woods. To their front the view was +uninterrupted, offering a field of fire unbroken by the least suspicion +of cover from view or fire.</p> + +<p>The artillery was no doubt concealed in the woods behind. The men were +doing their work with a quick, noiseless efficiency that would have made +you very proud if you could have seen them.</p> + +<p>Soon after the Column had passed into the woods, the noise of the guns +was heard. The Subaltern could imagine the whole scene as vividly as if +he could see it: the van-guard of the German Advanced Guard suddenly +"held up" by the bursting of the British shells; the hasty deployment of +the German cavalry; the further "holding up" of the main-guard of the +Advanced Guard while a reconnaissance was being carried out with the +help, perhaps, of a "Taube." Remember that the Germans must have been +daily, almost hourly, expecting the Allies to make a determined attempt +to check their continued advance, and must have been very nervous of +walking into some trap. Therefore the Commander of the German Advanced +Guard would have to discover very exactly the nature of the resistance +in front of him before the Officer commanding the main body—some miles +behind, of course—could decide what force it would be necessary to +deploy in order to dislodge the enemy from his position.</p> + +<p>This is no easy matter. What the retreating army is fighting for is +time—time to get clean away. Consequently, if the Officer commanding +the advancing army deploys a larger force than is necessary, he grants +his opponent the very thing that he wants—time, since the deployment +of, say, a Division is a very lengthy operation, occupying at least +three hours. On the other hand, if he details too small a force for the +work, his attack is held in check, and more time than ever is wasted in +reinforcing it in a measure sufficient to press home the attack.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern imagined the long wait while the shells shrieked over the +heads of the infantry towards an enemy as yet unseen. Then the enemy +shells would begin to feel their way to the thin brown line of trenches, +and under cover of their fire the infantry, now deployed into fighting +formations, would "advance." Then our men would begin firing, firing +with cool precision. The landscape would soon be dotted with grey ants. +Machine-guns would cut down whole lines of grey ants with their +"plop-plop-plop." Shrapnel would burst about whole clouds of grey ants, +burying them in brown clouds of dust. Finally, the directing brain would +decide that it was time to cut and run. The artillery fire would be +increased tenfold, and under cover of it the brown ants would scamper +from the trenches and disappear into the green depths of the woods. Soon +the firing would cease. The retreating party would have got safely, +cleanly away, having gained many precious hours for the main body, and +having incidentally inflicted severe losses on the enemy. The latter, +have nothing left to do but to re-form (thus losing still more time), +would then continue his pursuit weaker and further from his opponent +than he had been before.</p> + +<p>At last, striking a clearing, the town of Villiers Cotterets was +reached. There was nothing to distinguish it from a score of other small +agricultural centres through which the Column had passed. The only thing +the Subaltern remembers about this town is that he handed a French +peasant woman there a couple of francs on the odd chance that she would +bring back some chocolate. She did not.</p> + +<p>On the further side of the town the Brigade Transport, with steaming +cookers, was massed ready to give the troops a midday meal. This was an +innovation greatly appreciated. Such a thing as a meal in the middle of +the day had not occurred since the days of Iron.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h4>VILLIERS-COTTERETS</h4> + + +<p>Twenty minutes later the Column was again on the move, but this time not +for long. Having reached the edge of another forest, a fresh halt was +made while the Transport was hauled past them into the wood. The +Transport, known technically as "second line" of a Brigade, is a very +large, cumbersome, and slow-moving affair, and it must be protected at +all costs, for without it the Brigade is lost.</p> + +<p>A swift deployment was then made, and the edge of the wood was held +astride of the road. After everything had been arranged, there was a +wait of thirty to forty minutes. Nothing could be seen, as the position +was on the "reverse slope" of the incline, but the field of fire was +absolutely clear for at least two hundred yards in front. It is the most +trying time of all, this waiting for the approach of an enemy you cannot +see, and it tells on the most phlegmatic disposition. The men occupy the +heavy moments by working the bolts of their rifles, and seeing that they +work easily. The success or failure of the defence depends mainly on the +speed and accuracy with which the defenders "get their rounds off." The +Officers pace about, making sure of "keeping touch" with the units on +their flank, discovering the best way to retire, and so on. There is at +such moments an odd desire to give way to the temptation of saying to +oneself, "Where shall I be in an hour's time?" One gazes with a subtle +feeling of affection on one's limbs, and wonders, "Where shall I get +it?" Subconsciously one is amused and a little ashamed of such +concessions to sentimentality. The best thing to do under the +circumstances is to go and check the range-finders' figures, or prepare +the headlines of a message or two.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A Taube, like some huge insect with a buzz of whirring wings, flew +overhead, dropping multi-coloured stars from its tail. Then our guns +"opened the ball."</p> + +<p>There was something blatant and repulsive about that first burst of +sound. The ferns of the forest shivered, as if awakened from a sunny +dream to face terrible calamities. The trees seemed to shake with a +delicate fear of what was in store for them. The enemy's fire burst upon +them with a startling intensity.</p> + +<p>There was no point in holding the advanced edge of the wood under such a +bombardment until the actual appearance of the enemy infantry made it +necessary, so the whole line was retired some fifty yards into the wood. +By this manoeuvre the Colonel lost no advantage, and must have saved +many lives.</p> + +<p>Although artillery fire had been a pretty frequent occurrence, this was +the heaviest the men had yet experienced. The noise was ear-splitting; +the explosions filled the quivering air; the ground seemed to shudder +beneath them. Branches fell crashing to the ground; it seemed as if a +god was flogging the tree-tops with a huge scourge. The din was awful, +petrifying, numbing.</p> + +<p>And in the middle of all this inferno, with the sight of men with ashen +faces limping, crawling, or being dragged to the rear, with the leaves +on the ground smoking from the hot, jagged shell-casings buried among +them, the Subaltern suddenly discovered that he was not afraid. The +discovery struck him as curious. He argued with himself that he had +every right to feel afraid, that he ought to feel "queer." He said to +himself, "Here you are, as nervous and temperamental a youth as ever +stepped, with a mental laziness that amounts to moral cowardice, in the +deuce of a hole that I don't expect you'll ever get out of. You ought to +be in an awful state. Your cheeks ought to be white, and there they are +looking like two raw beef-steaks. Your tongue ought to cleave to the +roof of your mouth; and it isn't. You ought to feel pains in the pit of +your stomach, and you're not. Devil a bit! You know, you're missing all +the sensations that the writers told you about. You're not playing the +game. Come, buck up, fall down and grovel on the ground!" But he did +not. He did not want to. He felt absolutely normal.</p> + +<p>A man sheltering behind the same tree suddenly spun round, and, grasping +his left arm, fell with a thud to the ground. He reeled over, with knees +raised and rounded back, and staggered immediately to his feet. "Oh, my +arm, my arm!" he moaned plaintively, and turned away towards the rear, +whimpering a little as he went, and tenderly holding the wet, +dark-stained sleeve as he went. The Subaltern felt that he ought to have +winced with horror at the mutilation of the poor stricken thing, but +beyond a slight sinking sensation between the lungs and the stomach, the +incident left him with no emotion. He picked up the man's rifle, leant +it against the tree, and continued to scan the skyline with his glasses, +feeling all the while a bit of a brute.</p> + +<p>At the same time he experienced a sensation of pleasure at the immunity +from mental sufferings that are generally supposed to afflict men under +these conditions. He felt like a man who unexpectedly finds a five-pound +note, the very existence of which he had forgotten, hidden away in some +unusual pocket. It was something of the same sensation that he used to +have at school, when by chance he saw other boys working at impositions +which he had himself escaped.</p> + +<p>The time came when it was no longer expedient to remain in the wood, so +they advanced, flitting from tree to tree, back to the edge of the +forest. The view was rather restricted from where the Subaltern was, +apparently on the right of where the full force of the attack was +breaking.</p> + +<p>"Plop-plop-plop," the machine-gun spluttered with an amazing air of +detached insistence. The machine-guns strike in battle quite a note of +their own. Shells, screeching and roaring in their frenzy, give an +impression of passion, of untameable wrath. Rifle-fire is as inconstant +in volume as piano music; there is something of human effort to be heard +in the "tap ... tap ... tap ... tap-tap-trrrrapp" of its crescendos and +diminuendoes. But the machine-gun is different from these. It strikes a +higher note, and can be heard above the roar of the bursting shells. It +is mechanical, there is nothing about it of human passion; it is a +machine, and a most deadly one at that.</p> + +<p>The Colonel dashed out into the open and dragged a wounded gunner into +the comparative shelter of the wood. Many more acts scarcely less heroic +were performed.</p> + +<p>At last the moment came to retire. The guns had already rattled through +the line, and the companies drew away from the edge of the wood, +re-formed with great speed, and were soon marching once more in column +of route along the road.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern felt exhausted in a way that he had never felt so badly +before. The withdrawal from the actual scene of battle seemed to leave a +gulf in his inside that positively yawned. It was not only the apparent +uselessness of trying to stem the German tide that depressed him. There +was something more than that. He felt like a man who wakes after a +heavy, drug-induced slumber. The sudden cessation of the intense +excitement of battles leaves the brain empty and weary. At such moments +the hopelessness of the whole thing appalled and depressed him. The +uncertainty of the future hurt him. Nor was he alone in this state of +mind. Not a voice was raised to break the throbbing monotony of the +march. Heads were bent low.</p> + +<p>On they went. Night came down upon them and seemed to crush the spirit +out of them. As they emerged from the wood, the moon rose and flooded +the broad plain with weird, phosphorescent light. They struggled on, +swaying with sleep, past the ghostly outlines of poplars and hayricks, +past quiet, deserted cottages and empty stables. There was something +almost unearthly about that march in the moonlight. The accumulated +fatigue of a long and hot day, the want of food and the repressing +influence of a summer night, all these things joined in producing a +state of mental listlessness that destroyed the impression of reality +which things have in the daytime. They were drifting down a slow-moving +stream; the scenery glided by, but the sensation was by no means +pleasant. The brain was constantly at war with the lazy feet, striving +to keep them from stumbling and the eyelids from closing. Sound was +peculiarly muffled, as if darkness repressed and shut it in. The brain +was not commanding the limbs with the instantaneous co-ordination of the +daytime. The sensation that this produced—it is very difficult to give +any definite idea of it—was an impression of physical and mental +incompetence and uncertainty. And all the time every ounce of the body +was crying out to the mind to let it lie down and rest.</p> + +<p>That night many men were lost.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was not until ten o'clock that they arrived at a village where they +found the "cookers" and regimental transport. The Subaltern could not +help admiring the skill which was constantly being shown by the Staff +not only in the strategical dispositions of the retreat, but in +comparatively minute details such as this. The Brigade transport had +been guided and collected to a spot where it could safely be of service +to the battalions. Moreover, when the men arrived they found tea waiting +for them already brewed. Apparently the hour of the men's arrival had +been timed to such a nicety that the meal was just ready for them. +Assuming the truth of Napoleon's maxim about an army marching on its +belly, one can easily see from these pages that if Staff work had in any +way failed, or if the Army Service Corps had broken down, the Great +Retreat would have ended in disaster. It was these faultless +arrangements of the Army Service Corps that served to keep the sorely +tried army at any rate on its legs.</p> + +<p>A fire had been lighted, and, grateful for its warmth, the five Officers +of the Company were soon clustering round it, sipping out of their mess +tins filled with strong, sweet tea, without milk but very strongly +flavoured with rum. Soon the worries and painful memories of the day +were dispelled. A feeling almost of contentment stole over them. There +is something so particularly adventurous and at the same time soothing +about a camp fire. They had all read books at school full of camp fires +and fighting and prairies, and they had all more or less envied such a +life. Here it was. But the adventure part of it was so minute, and the +drudgery and nerve strain so great that the most adventurous soul among +them had long since admitted that "if <i>this</i> was Active Service, it was +not the life for him!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<h4>HEAT AND DUST</h4> + + +<p>The Subaltern did not get to sleep until twelve, and the Regiment made +another start as early as half-past two. It seemed to him that when +necessity drives there is no limit to the nerve force that we have in +us! They marched some miles in a westerly direction before they rejoined +the main road southwards.</p> + +<p>To describe in detail the sufferings of that day would be to repeat +almost word for word some of the preceding paragraphs. It was just as +hot as usual, just as dusty as usual. An order had come from somewhere +that there was to be no looting. Men were to be forbidden to snatch an +apple from a fruit-strewn orchard, or an egg from a deserted barn! The +owners had already fled from their homes, and here Mr. Thomas Atkins was +solemnly asked to go hungry and thirsty and to relieve the enemy of one +of his greatest difficulties—feeding himself. The Platoon having halted +for the usual hourly halt outside an orchard, some of the men broke into +it and began to throw apples over the hedge to the others. Seeing the +Colonel approaching, the Subaltern realised that something must be done +instantly to avert disaster. "What the deuce are you men doing? Come out +of it!" he cried. The men came, looking very dejected. The Colonel, +pacified, passed by. A second later, the glad work of refreshing the +troops was being carried on by a fresh couple of men.</p> + +<p>It must have been a very similar situation that gave birth to a story +that has already become famous. A Tommy was caught by a "brass hat" in +the very act of strangling a chicken. Tommy looked up. Was he abashed? +Not a bit of it! He did what Mr. Thomas Atkins generally does in a tight +corner. He kept his head: he rose magnificently to the occasion. He did +not loose the chicken and endeavour to stammer an apology. On the +contrary, he continued to strangle it. He took no notice of the "brass +hat." As he gave a final twist to the bird's throat he said menacingly, +"So you'd try to bite me, would you, you little brute!"</p> + +<p>Towards the end of the afternoon the men were so obviously exhausted, +and the number forced to fall out was so great, that a halt had to be +ordered in spite of previous plans. The men threw themselves utterly +exhausted on the ground on their backs, and lay like so many corpses +until the march was continued, in the cool of the evening.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern, consulting a fresh map—for they had been walking across +the ground covered by one map every day—learnt to his surprise that +they were within a few miles of Paris. And so also, he thought, were the +Germans! It rather looked as if they were heading straight towards the +city, and that would mean a siege. It was no use worrying about things, +but that depressing idea was in the minds of most of the Officers that +evening. Not that the Subaltern cared much at the time—it would mean a +stop to this everlasting marching, and perhaps the forts of Paris could +stand it; anyhow the German Fleet had been rounded up. (That wicked +rumour spread by the sensational section of the Press had not yet been +denied.)</p> + +<p>While he was thinking of these things, they were moving through a +country far more thickly populated. Villages began to crowd upon each +other's heels, and all the villages—cheering sight—were full of +British soldiers settling down to their billets for the night. This was +the first they had seen of any other Division except their own, and the +sight rather dispelled the illusion that, for all these days, they had +been alone and unaided in a land of "frightfulness."</p> + +<p>More marching in the darkness!</p> + +<p>At last, at about nine o'clock, they reached their billets, but the word +scarcely conveys a correct impression of the palatial château in which +they were quartered. There was considerable delay in settling the men +(which must, of course, be done before an officer thinks of his own +comfort) and in detailing the quarters. At length the officers of the +company found themselves in a little bedroom overlooking a river which +they supposed to be the Seine. The Captain, who had been sent on in +front of the Battalion to allot billets, produced with pride some +chocolate, sardines, and bottled mushrooms.</p> + +<p>The Second Lieutenants went in search of the "Company Cookers" to "draw" +their tea (in a washing jug), while the Senior Subaltern effected a +felonious entry into the room allotted to the General, and purloined all +the drinking glasses he could lay hands on, making his departure just as +that worthy Officer was coming up the stairs.</p> + +<p>The house was evidently of the "nouveau riche" type. If there was in it +nothing that could actually offend the eye, there was certainly nothing +to satisfy it. There was a profusion of gilt mirrors, and an aching lack +of pictures: the lighting was too new and glaring: the upholstery too +flimsy. But there were baths and soap! It was too late for the baths, +but the soap quickly disappeared.</p> + +<p>Just when they were settling themselves drowsily to enjoy a real sleep, +free from the fear of a morning attack, protected from the damp of dawn, +and with quilts of down to cover them, who should come in but the +Colonel!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<h4>THE OCCUPATION OF VILLIERS</h4> + + +<p>"I'm sorry," he said, "but we've got to parade at two in the morning."</p> + +<p>As soon as the door had closed behind him a perfect volley of abuse was +heard. They could not dismiss from their minds the thought that all this +sort of thing was unnecessary. And this was very natural, as no one had +had sufficient courage to tell the regimental officer how serious the +position was.</p> + +<p>Even two hours' sleep, however, is better than none.</p> + +<p>As soon as it became light the Subaltern saw that they were +counter-marching along the same road on which they had travelled the +previous night. What did this mean? Was a stand going to be made at +last? Apparently not, for the resting-place of last afternoon was +passed, and they continued to move eastwards. On consulting the map, he +judged that they were marching on Meaux on the Aisne. He had often read +of Meaux; was it not the Bishopric of Bossuet, the stately orator of +Louis XIV? The interest he felt in the question helped to take the +weight from his weary limbs.</p> + +<p>At last they crossed the bridge. Sappers had been at work on it for some +time, and the preparations to blow it up after they had passed were +almost complete. The first sight of interest was the railway station, +which was filled with what appeared to the Subaltern to be double-decked +trains. Evidently a French army had detrained here.</p> + +<p>The Column swung suddenly round a corner and they were almost staggered +with the sight of the cathedral towering above them. To an eye used +exclusively to the sight of the dour British edifice, there is something +very fascinating about a foreign cathedral such as this. There is +something more daring about the style of architecture, something more +flamboyant, and yet more solid. The cathedral seemed vaguely indicative +of the past grandeur of the Catholic Church. Bathed in the early morning +sunlight it appeared to exult over the mean smallness of the houses that +clustered at its feet.</p> + +<p>Beyond the cathedral there is nothing at all extraordinary about Meaux. +Many months afterwards one of his nurses told him in hospital that she +had spent a long time in that very street. She had been with her father, +the erstwhile Colonel of a line regiment, and a specialist in strategy, +who for the pure love of the thing had laboriously gained permission to +stay at Meaux and visit the famous battlefields of the Marne. She said +they had been in the very room where General Joffre met Field-Marshal +French, and had bought the very teapot in which their tea was brewed. +She rather wondered how many more of these "very" teapots had been sold +at fancy prices!</p> + +<p>If Von Kluck made a forward thrust at Paris before his sidelong movement +to the south-east, it was undoubtedly made at Meaux, which was the scene +of some terrific combats.</p> + +<p>Emerging from the town, the Column branched off in a south-easterly +direction, and ascended the sides of a very steep plateau. Having +reached the flat ground at the top, a midday halt was made in the +pleasant grounds of yet another château.</p> + +<p>This fresh move was discussed a great deal as the men lay at full length +in the shade of the trees. Evidently there was to be no siege of Paris. +They were marching directly away from Paris. What did it mean? They +would get to Marseilles in a fortnight at this rate, and then the only +thing to do would be to wire for the Fleet, and be taken safely home to +their mammas!</p> + +<p>The march went on through the stifling heat of the afternoon, and the +Subaltern knew that he, and most of the men as well, were feeling about +as bad as it is possible to feel without fainting. They marched through +a very dense wood, and then out once more into the open. Even the +longest day has its ending, and at last they found themselves halted in +the usual lines of companies in the usual stubble field. A Taube flew +overhead and all sorts of fire were concentrated on it.</p> + +<p>It was already sunset. After the edge, as it were, had been taken off +his exhaustion, the Subaltern extracted the before-mentioned piece of +soap, and having, as usual, scraped it ready for action, washed his feet +in a little stream. He did it under the impression that marching for +that day was over. It is very comfortable to wash your hot, tired feet +in a cool stream provided there is no necessity to put your boots on +again. If something happens that forces you to do this, you are in for a +hard and painful job. You would not believe it possible for feet to +swell like yours have swelled. They do not seem like your own feet at +all. They have expanded past recognition, and their tenderness surpasses +thought.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern was sitting by the stream edge gazing at the flush of +golden light in the west, when he was awakened by the Major.</p> + +<p>"Well, young feller, I've been looking everywhere for you. You've got to +take your Platoon out to this village, Villiers, and occupy it till +further orders—a sort of outpost position—you will be too far from the +main body to establish touch; you have really just to block the roads, +and if you are rushed, retire here the best way you can."</p> + +<p>Having made sure of the position on the map, and asked for a couple of +cyclists to accompany him, the Subaltern began to put on his boots. But +they would not go on. It was like trying to get a baby's boots on to a +giant's feet, and the more he tugged the more it hurt. The precious +moments of daylight would soon be gone, and in the dark it would be ten +times more difficult to find the village and block the roads. There was +nothing for it but to cut the boots, so, unwrapping a fresh Gillette +blade, he made a large <b>V</b>-shaped gash in the top part of each. It was +annoying to have to spoil good boots, and in addition his feet would get +wet far sooner than hitherto.</p> + +<p>All superfluous articles of weight had long since been thrown away, and +consequently he had nothing except matches with which to read his map in +the dark and windy night. The difficulty was increased by the fact that +the way lay across small tracks which were almost impossible to +distinguish, but eventually, more by luck than judgment, he brought his +men into a village. Was it Villiers? It took him some time to find out. +There were plenty of people in the village street, but the Subaltern +could not get coherent speech out of any one of them. Fear makes an +uneducated Englishman suspicious, quickwitted and surly. It drives the +French peasant absolutely mad. That village street seemed to have less +sense, less fortitude, less coolness than a duck-run invaded by a +terrier. The Subaltern caught a man by the arm and pushed him into a +doorway.</p> + +<p>"Qu'est-ce que c'est, le nom de cette village?" he said, with as much +insistence and coolness as he could muster. The poor fellow broke into a +tirade in which his desire to cut German throats, his peculiarly +unfortunate circumstances, and his wish to get away literally tripped +over each other.</p> + +<p>"Qu'est-ce que c'est, le nom de cette village?" Followed a flood of +words apparently about the village. A third time. "Qu'est-ce que c'est, +le nom de cette village?" At last: "Ah, M'sieur, Villiers," with an air +of surprise, as if he thought the Subaltern had known all the time, and +had asked merely to start a polite conversation.</p> + +<p>He let the man go, and turned his attention to the village street, which +presented a terrible spectacle of panic. It was obviously unwise to +allow this mob to leave the village, as they seemed to wish, and +disperse, shouting and shrieking, over the countryside. Very possibly +there were spies amongst them, who would bring the enemy about his ears +in half an hour. More likely still, the whole excited crowd would wander +straight into the arms of the Germans, and be treated with the +well-known restraint of Huns towards the unprotected. So he hurriedly +placed guards at the chief outlets of the village, with orders, in +addition to the usual duties towards the enemy, to prevent the French +from leaving it.</p> + +<p>He then returned and tried to pacify the inhabitants. But his kind, +soothing words in execrable French did not succeed in dispelling the +panic and fear. He had to draw his sword (for the purpose of +intimidation only) and literally to thrust them into houses. And he had +to get three men with fixed bayonets to help him. He did his best to +make it generally understood that any one who came out of his house and +made a noise would be summarily disposed of. Any sounds of confusion +would inevitably have drawn the fatal attentions of the enemy.</p> + +<p>He then made a hurried survey of the roads leading out of the village, +placed sentry groups at various places of advantage, and established the +picket in the centre of the village in a large barn. This done, he sent +the cyclist orderly to try and get into touch with the village on the +right, which, he had been told, was to be occupied by a platoon from +another regiment. The cyclist returned to report that the village was +deserted by the French, and that there was no sign of the Blankshires. +Evidently the O.C. Platoon had not been so fortunate in finding his way +in the dark.</p> + +<p>Dawn broke, and the expected order to retire did not come. The men slept +on, intent on snatching as many moments of precious sleep as possible.</p> + +<p>Still no orders came. At about eight o'clock the Subaltern finally +awoke, and went the rounds of his groups. There was nothing to report, +all had been quiet.</p> + +<p>When he got back he found that the men had collected quite a good number +of eggs from abandoned farmyards, had lighted a fire, and were busy +making a sort of stew out of bully beef and swedes, and (he strongly +suspected) a stolen chicken. As no orders came still, when he had +finished his breakfast, he lay down in the shade of an apple tree and +continued his sleep. He woke up later, at about midday, and ate the +remainder of his rations, and then fell asleep once more.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He was awakened by the Major. It was about four o'clock, and the +remainder of the Brigade was already on the move. The posts guarding the +roads were hastily drawn in, and his Platoon took its place in the +Company as the Battalion marched by.</p> + +<p>He felt extremely pleased with the whole adventure of Villiers. It was +the first and only time that he had had a completely detached command. +He had felt the intoxication of undisputed authority; there had been a +subtle pleasure in the thought that, as far as help or supervision were +concerned, he was absolutely alone and that the responsibility for +anything that might happen hung exclusively on his shoulders. The whole +day had seemed like a Sunday to him—the first real Sunday since ages +and ages ago he had left England, the easy land of peace.</p> + +<p>There had been an air of quietness about that afternoon which is +peculiar to Sundays, and he congratulated himself on the hours of sleep +that he had been able to put in.</p> + +<p>From his own point of view the whole war began to seem like an organised +campaign of things in general to hustle him about in the heat until he +died from want of sleep!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<h4>THE LAST LAP</h4> + +<p>On every side the results of long marches were only too plain. Spirits +were damped. There were fewer songs, and no jokes. The men were not by +any means "downhearted," and would rather have died than admit that they +were depressed, but the brightness was all rubbed off, and a moroseness, +a dense, too-tired-to-worry taciturnity had set in that was almost +bullet-proof.</p> + +<p>Although the familiar sounds of artillery boomed away quite close to +them they were not deployed, and when it was dark they bivouacked along +the side of the road.</p> + +<p>That night the Colonel addressed the Officers at some length. "The old +man" always had an impressive way of speaking, and darkness and +overwrought nerves doubtless magnified this. He spoke in subdued tones, +as if awed by the intense silence of the night.</p> + +<p>We all could tell where we were, he said—a few miles east, or even +south-east by east of the French Capital. Our base, Havre, lay to the +north-west, with the enemy in between. It was unnecessary to say +anything further. The facts spoke for themselves. The British Army was +up against it, none could tell what would happen next. One duty, +however, was self-evident, and that was to watch the food-supply.</p> + +<p>Things were going to be serious. Henceforward the army was to be on half +rations, and he knew what that meant. He had been on "half rations" in +the South African War, and he had seen a man give a franc for a dirty +biscuit, and he knew what it was for soldiers on active service to be +hungry. He ordered us, he begged and prayed them, to spare no energy in +stopping waste of any description, and making their men realise the +gravity of the position. No Officer was in future to draw any rations +from the Company Cookers, and the Mess Sergeant had somehow procured and +victualed a mess-cart.</p> + +<p>That night must have been the most fateful night in the history of +France. All the world was watching with bated breath, watching to see +whether France was really a "back number"—whether the Prussian was +truly the salt of the earth. If Paris fell, the French Armies in the +field were cut off from their base; defeat was certain, and the national +history of France, or, at any rate, the glory of it, would be stamped +out for ever under the Kaiser's heel. The fate of France was in the +balance, and also the fate of the Russian Armies. If Paris fell, Europe +might be as much the slave of Prussia as it had been a century ago of +Napoleon. As for England, if her Fleet could master the German, well +and good. But, if not....</p> + +<p>It looked as if the enemy were within an ace of victory. He had flooded +Belgium and Luxembourg with his armies, and, at the first clash of arms, +had hurled everything before him in a manner which to the civilian must +have appeared terrible in its completeness. Several times had the +defenders apparently attempted to stand, and as many times had they been +hurled with even greater violence southwards. And now, before the +campaign was a month old, the enemy were within an ace of the most +complete victory of modern times. Many men will never forget that +night—men on either side with high commands.</p> + +<p>How the Kaiser must have chuckled when the French Cabinet left for +Bordeaux! Bombastic phrases were perchance chasing themselves through +his perverted mind. How fine he would look at Versailles, strutting +about the Hall of Victories. He would sleep in the bed of the "Grand +Monarque"—and in Les Invalides how he would smile at the tomb of +Napoleon! Perhaps his statesmen were that very night drafting the terms +of peace that a crushed adversary would be only too thankful to accept. +His day had come at last! Henceforward how he would laugh at Democracy +and Socialism. He would show them that he was master. The best weapon in +all the world was sudden, bloody war. He would show his people that he +was their Master, their Salvation, their War Lord. He was the greatest +man in history, so he thought that night.</p> + +<p>There may come a time when he will realise that, after all, he was only +the most contemptible and pitiable. But that is by the way.</p> + +<p>His Generals could not have been so sure. They must have seen the +exhaustion of their men. Von Kluck must have already felt the weight of +the army, rushed out of Paris by General Galliéni, that threatened to +envelop his right flank. Von Heeringen must have realised that the +offensive was being wrenched from his grasp. And the Crown Prince was +throwing himself in vain upon the forts of Verdun and Nancy.</p> + +<p>That night, too, somewhere behind the French lines, a man of very +different stamp from the Kaiser was putting the final touches to the +preparations of the greatest counter-attack in History. He knew that the +enemy had literally overstepped his lines of communications, was +exhausted, and nervous of failure so far from his bases. He knew that as +long as de Castelnau clung on to the heights around Verdun, his centre +and left were safely hinged upon a fortress under cover of which he +could launch his counter-offensive with all the weight of his now +completely mobilised reinforcements. Moreover, the army that had hurried +pell-mell from Paris in taxicabs, in carts, in any form of conveyance +that the authorities could lay hands upon, was now completely +established on the left of the British, and if Von Kluck, lured on by +the prize of Paris, pushed on, he would be outnumbered on his front and +very seriously menaced on his right, and disaster would be certain.</p> + +<p>Not that the Subaltern knew or cared much for these things. He and his +men were past caring. Continuous retreat had first evoked surprise, then +resentment, then, as fatigue began to grip them like a vice, a kind of +dull apathy. He felt he would not have cared whatever happened. The +finer emotions of sorrow or hope or happiness were drugged to +insensibility. With the exception of odd moments when, absolutely +causelessly, wild anger and ungovernable rage took possession of him and +seemed to make his blood boil and seethe, he seemed to be degenerating +into the state of mind commonly attributed to the dumb beasts of the +field—indifferent to everything in the wide world except food and +sleep.</p> + +<p>That night a draft commanded by one Subaltern arrived to fill up the +gaps.</p> + +<p>The next day the retreat continued. The men's nerves were tried to +breaking-point, and a little detail, small and of no consequence in +itself, opened the lock, as it were, to a perfect river of growing anger +and discontent.</p> + +<p>This was how it happened. The Colonel had repeated the previous night +the order about looting, and the men were under the impression that if +any of them took so much as a green apple he would be liable to "death +or some such less punishment as the Act shall provide." They talk about +it and grumble, and then suddenly, without any warning except a +clucking and scratching, the Mess Sergeant is seen by the greater part +of the Battalion to issue triumphantly from a farm gate with two or +three fat hens under his arms. Smiling broadly, totally ignorant of the +enormity of his conduct, he deposits his load in the mess-cart drawn up +to receive the loot!</p> + +<p>The men did not let the opportunity slip by without giving vent to a lot +of criticism.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern's ears tingled at the remarks that he heard. Never in his +life had he felt so ridiculous.</p> + +<p>Luckily, another similar incident relieved the situation, shortly +afterwards. During a few minutes' halt, a cow near the road stood +gazing, with that apathetic interest peculiar to cows, at the thirsty +men. It was not for nothing, as the French say, that one of the +reservists had been a farm hand. He went up to the cow, unfastening his +empty water-bottle as he went, and calmly leant down and began to milk +the neglected animal until his bottle was full. It was not in itself a +funny proceeding, but there was something about the calmness of both the +cow and the man, and something about the queerness of the occasion, that +appealed to the sense of humour of the dourest old Puritan of them all. +They laughed, they roared, they shouted, in a way that reminded the +Subaltern of the last "soccer" season.</p> + +<p>The noise must have mystified the pursuing Uhlans not a little.</p> + +<p>But the laugh did not last long on their lips. Directly afterwards they +swung into a road already occupied by a train of refugees. After the +sight of a good strong man struck down in his strength, this, perhaps, +was the saddest sight of the whole war. How miserable they were, these +helpless, hopeless people, trailing sadly along the road, the majority +with all they had saved from the wreckage of their homes tied in a +sheet, and carried on their backs. Some were leading a cow, others +riding a horse, a few were in oxen-driven wagons. They looked as if they +had lost faith in everything, even in God. They had the air of people +calmly trying to realise the magnitude of the calamity which had +befallen them, and failing.</p> + +<p>Here and there the Subaltern thought he saw a gleam of reproach in their +faces. It hurt him not a little. Only a few days ago the British had +been advancing, as they thought, to certain victory. All had been +sunshine, or at any rate hope. How the villagers had shouted and cheered +them! How the women had wept with sheer joy, and shy young girls had +thrust flowers into their buttonholes! What heroes they had felt +swinging forward to meet the enemy, to defend the homes of their friends +and Allies, and avenge their wrongs!</p> + +<p>The rôle had been melodramatic, superb! But here they were, skirting the +very gates of Paris, apparently fleeing before the enemy, and this +without having made any very determined effort at resistance. Poor +protectors they must have looked! Those simple peasants would not +understand the efficacy, the necessity even, of running away "to live +and fight another day," with a greater chance of success.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern often used to wonder what the poor wretches thought of +troops, which, though in possession of arms and ammunition, still +retreated—always retreated. They could not understand.</p> + +<p>The march came to an end about one o'clock. A halt of half-an-hour for +dinner was ordered in the shade of some huge trees in a park. The +mess-cart and Cookers arrived, and a meal was soon in progress. The +Regimental Officer of what is now referred to as the "Old Army" was +perhaps the best-mannered man one could possibly meet. His training in +the Mess made him so. He was the sort of man who would not have done +anything which so much as even suggested rudeness or greed. He was as +scrupulous of his Mess Rules as a Roman Catholic Priest is of his +conduct at High Mass. To the newly-joined Subaltern, Guest Night +conveyed the holy impression of a religious rite. But here was a comic +demonstration of the fact that the strictest training is only, after +all, a veneer. Two Senior Officers were actually squabbling about a +quarter-pound tin of marmalade! The Subaltern could not help smiling. +The incident merely showed how raw and jagged the Great Retreat had left +the nerves of those who survived it.</p> + +<p>An hour's halt passed only too soon, and its later moments were made +uneasy by the instinctive aversion which every one felt for the sound of +the whistles that would mark the end of it. The Battalion, however, had +no sooner swung into the road, than the Colonel, who had been reading a +message with an expression of surprise, held up his hand to signal the +halt. The moment was historic. Although none knew, it was the end of the +Great Retreat.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h3> + +<h4>THE TURN OF THE TIDE</h4> + +<p>The next day the Battalion linked up with the Brigade, and instead of +proceeding in the usual direction—southwards—they turned to the north.</p> + +<p>There was a great deal of subdued excitement. They were not going to +move off for a precious hour or so, and, as "battle seemed imminent," +the Subaltern did his best to make up the "deficiencies" in his +equipment.</p> + +<p>Another Subaltern lay stricken with dysentery in one of the regimental +wagons, and he "borrowed" his revolver and ammunition. Apart from the +fact that the poor fellow was in too great pain to dispute the robbery, +he declared with embellishments that he never wanted to see the —— +thing again. "Take it, and be —— to it!" he said.</p> + +<p>Curiously enough, the Subaltern was able to stick to the loan through +all the troubles that followed, and was eventually able to return it to +its owner, met casually in the London Hippodrome, months later.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards, when they were marching through a village called +Chaumes, he learnt that in the forthcoming battle they were to be in +General Reserve, and this relieved the nervous tension for the moment. +There was a feeling that a great chance of distinguished service was +lost, but as the General Reserves are usually flung into the fight +towards its concluding stages, he did not worry on that score.</p> + +<p>The four Regiments of the Brigade were massed in very close formation in +a large orchard, ready to move at a moment's notice. There they lay all +day, sleeping with their rifles in their hands, or lying flat on their +backs gazing at the intense blue of the sky overhead.</p> + +<p>The heat, although they were in the first week in September, was greater +than ever. The blue atmosphere seemed to quiver with the shock of guns.</p> + +<p>General Headquarters had been established in a house near by, a +middle-class, flamboyant, jerry-built affair. How its owner would have +gasped if he could have seen the Field-Marshal conducting the British +share of the great battle in his immodest "salle à manger!"</p> + +<p>Aeroplanes were continually ascending from and descending to a ploughed +field adjacent to the orchard. Motors were ceaselessly dashing up and +down. Assuredly they were near to the heart of things.</p> + +<p>That afternoon some one procured a page of the <i>Daily Mirror</i>, which +printed the first casualty list of the war. Perhaps you can remember +reading it. One was not used to the sensation. One felt that "it brought +things home to one." Not that this was by any means necessary at that +time and place. Still it was very depressing to think that in God's +beautiful sunlight, brave, strong men were being maimed and laid low for +ever. One had a vague feeling that it was blasphemous, and ought to be +stopped.</p> + +<p>It was not until dusk that a start was made, and the Regiment halted +again about a mile further on and settled down for the night in a +stubble field opposite a very imposing château.</p> + +<p>Evidently the fight had gone well, for they passed at least two lines of +hasty trenches quite deserted.</p> + +<p>The Germans had at last been driven back!</p> + +<p>Any joy that this discovery might have occasioned was sobered and +tempered by the sight of small bodies of men bent double over their work +in the purple twilight. They were burying-parties. Two twigs tied +together and stuck in the brown mounds of earth was all the evidence +there was of each little tragedy. During the retreat the Subaltern had +naturally had little opportunity to realise this most pitiable side of +war, the cold Aftermath of Battle.</p> + +<p>I will tell you of the inglorious way in which one man spent this +momentous day, the wonderful hours in which the tide turned, and a +Continent was saved—in chasing chickens! He was the Mess Sergeant, and +it was his duty. Anyway, the Mess dined gloriously off the chickens he +caught, and as a couple of hayricks had been dismantled and distributed, +everybody spent a tolerably comfortable night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h3> + +<h4>THE ADVANCE BEGINS</h4> + + +<p>Although they stood to arms at the first flush of daylight on the +following day, they did not march off until nearly eleven o'clock. The +men were moved into the leafy grounds of the château to keep them out of +the sun, and beyond the observation of hostile aircraft.</p> + +<p>The regimental butchers slew one or two sheep during the wait; but the +meat subsequently proved to be abominably tough, and the fat collected +to oil the bolts of the men's rifles only served to make them stiffer +than ever.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern had entertained fond hopes that owing to his recent +unusually long hours of sleep he would not be attacked by the same +nauseating sensations of fatigue; but his hopes were vain. The sleep +seemed to have made things worse. A little rest had developed an +overwhelming desire for more, and he felt worse than ever.</p> + +<p>He longed as he had never longed before for long cool drinks and clean +white sheets. He imagined himself at home. What would he do? He pictured +himself in the bathroom eagerly peeling off his puttees as the water +splashed into the pale blue bath. How he would wallow in it! He could +feel how the water would caress his body, tepid and soothing.</p> + +<p>On the table in the dining-room, green and cool with its view of the +sombre pine wood, stood a long cold drink of what? Cider, perhaps, or +lime-juice and soda, something you could drink and drink and drink. Last +of all—culminating pleasure of heaven—his red bedroom, with the sheets +ready turned down for him, soft and white and alluring. That would have +been heaven.</p> + +<p>But this heaven of his was very far away from the hard dusty road and +the eternal poplars! With a painful jolt his thoughts would return to +the realities of life; he would feel dazed and annoyed, and in his heart +of hearts he wanted to cry.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Sir Archibald Murray passed in a car, holding an animated conversation +with a much-beribboned and distinguished-looking French General. He +looked very pleased with himself, as well he might, for the greatest +work of his career had begun the day before with astounding success.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern must have felt very tired and dissatisfied that afternoon. +Having exhausted the painful thoughts of home, he began to tell himself +what an awful life Active Service was. It never occurred to him to be +thankful that a youth so young should have the luck to play his part in +such tremendous events. He did not at the time realise that there were +thousands of adventurous souls at home who would have given an arm to +have been where he had been.</p> + +<p>He did not realise that in after days the memory of every weary hour of +trudging, of every bullet that had hummed by, and of every shell that +had burst, would be a joy for ever. The thought had never struck any of +them, unsentimental souls!</p> + +<p>At this point his memory confessedly breaks down. He remembers perfectly +a certain "ten minutes' halt" spent in the shade of a sheaf of corn. He +remembers plunging into a pine forest; but thenceforward there is a +blank. His memory snaps. He cannot recollect passing through that wood, +much less passing out of it. A link in the chain of his memory must have +snapped.</p> + +<p>When next he recollects anything clearly it may have been that night, +the next night, or the night after that. Anyway, it was very dark, and +the Battalion was eventually halted in an open field. Somehow or other, +straw was procured for the rest, but his own Platoon was sent forward to +hold an outpost position along the banks of a small stream.</p> + +<p>Although in the daytime the sun shone with undiminished fervour, the +nights were getting certainly far more chilly than they had been in +August. But when one has to get up at daybreak, having never had more +than four hours sleep, one does not notice it much.</p> + +<p>During the night a fresh draft arrived.</p> + +<p>The next morning they very soon encountered an entirely new sight, a +French village hastily evacuated by the enemy. At least half of the +houses had been broken into, and all the shops and inns. The Germans had +dragged chairs and tables to the roadside, and they must have been +sitting there drinking and smoking when the news of the British advance, +and orders to retire had come upon them. Everything seemed to show that +the enemy had left at the shortest notice. He had not had time to +perpetrate any of his well-known barbarities on the few inhabitants who +had remained in their houses, and no attempt had apparently been made +even to burn the village!</p> + +<p>A little further on, the abstemious Hun had obviously made a halt. The +litter of bottles was appalling. There was a perfect wall of them for +about a quarter of a mile. The proportion of bottles to the number of +men estimated to occupy four hundred yards (1000) was alarming. There +must have been enough drink to upset a British Army Corps. Most +certainly the Germans in front must have been out of hand, and very +drunk. The men were vastly amused.</p> + +<p>The day dragged on very wearily, and no deployment was made. Apparently +the enemy had taken about as much as he could comfortably endure on the +previous two days. He was not waiting to be pushed back; he was speeding +north-east as fast as his legs could carry him.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon a heavy shower rather damped the excitement evoked by +the enemy's dramatic failure to hold his own. Sounds of a fierce +encounter were heard in front, and the Brigade was hurried down a steep +and wooded decline to the scene of action. They arrived too late to +share in the actual infliction of defeat upon the enemy, but they were +immediately sent in pursuit, as the other Brigade was very tired and +rather shaken.</p> + +<p>A man told the Subaltern that some unfortunate company, marching in +fours up a village street, had been fired upon by a machine-gun +controlled by a few men left behind by the enemy to inflict the greatest +possible damage before discovery and capture. They had done their work +well, for, concealed in the roof of a house, they had swept the street +at point-blank range and literally mown down a whole company before they +had been located, and "put out of action." Still they must have been +brave men, for the personal result of such an exploit is certain death.</p> + +<p>The state of that street had better not be described. The Aftermath of +Battle! It is depressing, cold and passionless, dirty and bloody; the +electricity of life has gone from the air, and the wine of life-blood is +spilt, it seems, so needlessly upon the ground. Perhaps the spirits of +the dead linger over it. Their presence is instinctively felt. As, +overpowered with the sorrow of it, you pass by, the thought steals into +your mind, "When will my turn come?" This Aftermath of Battle is +assuredly the most awful thing in war.</p> + +<p>As soon as the men began to scale the steep incline opposite, they saw +that the costs had not been paid by the British alone. Figures, covered +in most cases by their own grey overcoats, lay out upon the ground. +Leaning up against a wall a body was still lolling. It was a sight that +no one who saw it will ever forget. There was no head; it had been shorn +oft as cleanly as if the man had been guillotined. An unburst shell had +probably swept the man's head from his shoulders as he looked over the +wall, and the aimless-looking trunk was still leaning against the wall +as if "waiting for further orders."</p> + +<p>The pursuit was continued until it was quite dark. The Companies wheeled +into the fields, and slept where they stood. The Colonel delivered a +short address, which showed that all was not as well as it looked. But +what really <i>did</i> worry them was lack of straw. The Colonel was of the +opinion that the enemy would take his stand on the opposite bank of the +Marne, which, he told them, was only half a mile ahead. To-morrow there +would be a fight, the like of which neither they nor any one else had +seen before.</p> + +<p>They were disturbed that night, not indeed by the fear of what to-morrow +might hold in store, but by a small stampede of escaped horses, who +careered madly over the sleeping lines, injuring one man very severely.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> + +<h4>THE CROSSING OF THE MARNE</h4> + + +<p>As soon as dawn broke—a dawn exceptionally cold and cheerless—the +cavalry pushed forward to effect some sort of reconnaissance. Meanwhile +the infantry had nothing better to do than to conceal themselves behind +the copses that covered the slope, and await their turn. In about an +hour's time they were deployed and moved cautiously forward to the +attack, the Batteries being already placed in readiness for the +beginning of the "show."</p> + +<p>No army in the world can execute this movement as scientifically or as +safely as the British Army. Memories of South Africa and Indian frontier +fights have left us undoubtedly the finest scouting army in Europe. We +were, of course, hopelessly outmatched in artillery and numbers. But +artillery being equal, there was not a Brigade in any army in the world +that could have held its own against a British Brigade. That, however, +is by the way.</p> + +<p>They pressed steadily forward, and, having breasted the slope, the +valley of the Marne burst suddenly upon their view. It was at least +three miles in breadth, and the opposite heights were screened by +woods. A small town marked the bridge. The country was "open"—painfully +open; there was not an atom of real cover between them and the heights +opposite.</p> + +<p>But no shells came whistling towards them. No doubt the enemy was +holding his fire until they were within closer range. (Not a pleasant +thought, this, by any means.) But no, they went on scrambling down the +deep slope, and still no sound of firing disturbed the morning silence. +As each moment fled by the Subaltern thought to himself, "Not yet! Well, +the next minute will bring things about our heads!" But the next minute +kept on passing as uneventfully as its predecessors.</p> + +<p>At last they reached the bridge and found it absolutely undamaged. Even +then the Subaltern could not repress the thought that all this was only +a trick, and that they were being lured on to destruction. But his +sanguinary forebodings were not justified, and the opposite heights were +scaled without opposition.</p> + +<p>He afterwards learnt, that, however much the Germans might have wanted +to hold this magnificent line, the strategical situation had become so +pressing that on this sector nothing could save them from disaster +except a complete and hurried retreat. They were all but outflanked on +their right, which was already very seriously bent back; while in the +centre General Foch had driven in a wedge which bade fair to crumple up +the whole line.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in any way remarkable about the little town on the +other side of the river. It had the air of a neglected gutter-child, +dirty and disconsolate. There were the usual signs of German +occupation—broken windows, ravaged shops, and, of course, the +inevitable bottles.</p> + +<p>Here it was that the Subaltern noticed for the first time that the Huns +had a distinctive smell of their own. It was a curious smell, completely +baffling description. If it is true that certain odours suggest certain +colours, one would have described this as a brown smell, preferably a +reddish-brown smell. Certain it was that the enemy left it behind him +wherever he had been, as sure a clue to his passing as broken +wine-bottles!</p> + +<p>The Subaltern always associates the climbing of the opposite slope with +pangs of a thirst so intense that he almost forgot to wonder why the +Germans had evacuated so excellent a position without firing a single +shot. But Headquarters were evidently not going to allow them to push +forward into some previously arranged trap. Having by three o'clock in +the afternoon firmly established themselves on the wooded crests of the +slope, they were "pulled up" while a further reconnaissance was being +made. Meanwhile, a sort of outpost position was taken up.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern's Platoon was to guard the back edge of a wood, and as he +established his supports in a farm, most of his men were able to fill +their water-bottles, have a wash and brush up, and generally prepare +themselves for whatever the next move might be. The farmer and his +wife, who had remained in their home, did everything that was required +of them; but he could not help noticing that the old couple did not seem +as pleased at their Allies' success as one would have naturally +expected. The reason was soon forthcoming. Following his usual plan of +getting as much information as possible out of the French, he heard the +old man, who seemed unaccountably shy and diffident, mutter casually—</p> + +<p>"J'ai pensé que vous ètiez tous partis hier soir."</p> + +<p>"Comment?" said he, "tous partis? Mais, Monsieur, nous sommes les +premiers Anglais qui sont arrivés ici."</p> + +<p>"Mais, Monsieur! Anglais? Ce n'est pas possible!"</p> + +<p>"C'est vrai, assurément."</p> + +<p>"Mais, L'Armée Anglaise porte toujours les habits rouges!"</p> + +<p>The Subaltern laughed outright. This simple fellow actually believed +that the English fought in scarlet. Even now he was not thoroughly +convinced that they really were English. Ignorance goes hand in hand +with obstinacy, and these simple old peasant folk defended their +stupidity with a veritable wall of impenetrable incredulity.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern was still laboriously engaged in explaining matters to the +man, when part of the Headquarter's Staff trotted up the road with a +clatter and a swing and scurry that looked as if they were wanted very +urgently on the left. It was the first time during the campaign that he +had seen the Corps Commander and the Chief of the General Staff on +horseback.</p> + +<p>It must have been about five o'clock when he received a message to +concentrate on the main road. On the way he was accosted by a woman +perfectly distraught with grief, who explained that two days ago her +little son had disappeared into "ce bois là" never to come out again.</p> + +<p>"Si votre fils vive encore, il reviendra, bien sûr, Madame. S'il est +mort, moi, je ne peux pas vous aider." Terrible to relate, the sight of +such grief annoyed rather than saddened him.</p> + +<p>The advance was continued until it was quite dark, when the Battalion +denuded the usual hayrick, and "dossed down" in the usual stubble +field.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h3> + +<h4>AN ADVANCED-GUARD ACTION</h4> + + +<p>At about eleven o'clock the next morning his Company Commander—the +Captain was leading as the Major was now second in command of the +Battalion—told the Subaltern to ride back to the transport wagons and +get some fresh maps and some chocolate which he had left in one of the +carts. It was pleasant to get a ride, and to rest one's feet for awhile, +so he took his time in getting back to the transport.</p> + +<p>No sooner had he reached the wagons than a gun boomed. He thought +nothing of that, however. Guns were always going off, at the oddest +times, and without any apparent reason. Four seconds later another +rolled out, followed closely by a third, fourth and fifth. Soon a +regular cannonade broke out. There was obviously mischief in the air, so +he crammed the maps hastily into his haversack and the chocolate into +his pocket and regained the Battalion as soon as he could on the +exhausted animal. Even as he was pressing forward, he heard the crackle +of musketry somewhere out of sight on the left.</p> + +<p>Of course, the very thing that he had feared had happened. His Company +had been rapidly deployed and had already disappeared over the crest. He +explained matters to the Major who was in command of the remainder +during the Colonel's absence; dismounted, and set off on foot towards +the sounds of the firing. He ran against the Company Sergeant-Major in +charge of the ammunition, who told him where his Platoon was.</p> + +<p>The next thing was to cross the fire-swept crest. Now, crossing +fire-swept crests is manifestly unpleasant—especially if you are alone. +If you are leading fifty men at least one and half times as old as you +are, who look to you for guidance and control, it is not so bad. Bravery +is very closely allied to "conspicuous gallantry," and "conspicuous +gallantry" in the field is almost impossible when there is no one to +look on. But he was too tired to worry much whether he was hit or not, +and his Platoon had to be reached as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>He found them lined up behind a small bank, waiting for orders to +reinforce the first line. Taking his glasses out of their case, he +crawled forward to have a look at the position for himself. The Platoon +in front was established behind a mud bank, firing occasional shots at +the enemy, who appeared to have dug himself in behind a railway cutting +at least five hundred yards distant. Although bullets were humming +pretty thickly through the air, the casualties on the British side so +far were only two or three men slightly wounded. They had orders to +"hang on" to that position until the centre and right should be +sufficiently strengthened for the main attack to materialise, when they +were to push on as best they might. Having learnt this, the Subaltern +crawled back, and sent out three men "to establish touch" with the front +Platoon.</p> + +<p>An hour passed before anything further happened. During that time the +Platoon Sergeant told him of the great difficulty they had had in +reaching this advanced position at all, as they had been shelled from +the front by the enemy, and from the left by their own batteries. +Accidents such as this often happened, and the artillery were not really +as culpable as would at first sight appear. Advanced-guard actions +materialised so suddenly, and situations changed so quickly, that it was +not always possible to circulate precise orders. The gunners' ideas of +the relative positions seemed to be, during the opening stages of the +attack, rather hazy—a fact that was very much resented by the men. "We +ain't come out 'ere to be targets to them ruddy gunners," one fellow +grumbled.</p> + +<p>Soon, however, things straightened out, and in an hour's time the +various movements preparatory to the attack had been completed. The +enemy, seeing that he was almost surrounded, and that it would be +impossible to extricate the greater part of his command from the battle, +resolved at least to save his guns, which were accordingly withdrawn.</p> + +<p>When at length the Subaltern's Platoon pushed forward in the wake of +the leading Platoon, no less a personage appeared unaccountably on the +scene than the Colonel. He had thrown off the worried look that had been +growing on him of late. Some of the officers, too junior to understand +how uneasy lies the head that is crowned with the responsibility for +many lives, had been heard to say that the Colonel's manner and general +outlook upon the campaign was tinged with unnecessary anxiety, and that +he had no right to allow the Germans to disturb his peace of mind. If +this were so, the presence of actual and tangible danger completely +obliterated all traces of nerves. He stood up in the firing-line. He +drew himself up to the full of his height, and seemed to inhale with +pleasure the dangerous air. All the time bullets were humming overhead +like swift and malignant insects, or striking the ground with a spatter +of brown earth.</p> + +<p>The Adjutant, following him, suddenly bent double as if he had been +struck below the belt; but the Colonel merely straightened himself, and +not a nerve in his phlegmatic face twitched.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Only a bullet struck my revolver hilt, sir," replied the Adjutant. It +had splintered the woodwork and been deflected between his arm and ribs.</p> + +<p>Near by a man rose on his knees to get a better shot at the enemy.</p> + +<p>"What's that man doing? Get down there this moment!" roared the Colonel.</p> + +<p>Then, as he recognised an old soldier of the regiment, "Atkins, how +dare you expose yourself unnecessarily? Your wife used to do my washing +in Tidshot. Me? Oh, I'm only an old bachelor. It doesn't matter about +me. There's nobody to care what happens to me." And, well pleased with +his joke, the Colonel passed down the line, proud of his magnificent +bravery.</p> + +<p>There is something about the rough-and-tumble of battle that lifts one +above one's self. One's legs and arms are not the same listless limbs +that were crying for rest only a short hour ago. One is envigoured; the +excitement stimulates. One feels great, magnanimous, superb. The +difficulty lies not in forcing oneself to be brave, but in curbing +ridiculous impulses, and in forcing the brain to work slowly and +smoothly. The smallest natures rise to great heights. An ordinary +self-centred creature performs acts of dazzling generosity towards +fellows he does not even know—with everything to lose and nothing to +gain. He will rescue a wounded man under heavy fire, to whom an hour +previously he would have refused to lend sixpence.</p> + +<p>Why is it?</p> + +<p>If the enemy were a roaring brazen beast, such as the knights of the +fairy tales used to fight, one could understand it. But he is not. You +cannot even see him. Three-quarters of a mile ahead there is a dark +brown line, and that is all. Whence comes the love of battle? Is it +roused by the little messengers of death that whizz invisibly by? No one +can say; the whole feeling is most probably the result of imagination +and desire to do great things.</p> + +<p>On they swept. The leading Platoon was now covering the ground at such a +pace that it was impossible to catch up with them. As the ground was +open the whole line could be seen sweeping forward to engulf the enemy. +The long dotted lines of brown advanced steadily and inexorably. Line +upon line of them breasted the crest, and followed in the wake of the +leading wave. It was scarcely a spectacular sight, yet it was the +vindication of the British methods of attack.</p> + +<p>The wild firing of the Germans had little effect. Curiously enough, the +line that suffered least was the first, and even in the others the +casualties were negligible. And all the time they were nearing the +railway bank.</p> + +<p>But the end was in sight, and the enemy realised that further resistance +would be useless. They were caught. About half a dozen men sprang on to +the railway bank and began furiously to wag white sheets of paper or +rag—anything white. They must have been brave men to do such a thing. +The British gunners either did not see their signs, or perhaps refused +to accept them on account of various "jokes" that the enemy had at other +times played with the white flag. Anyway the firing continued with +unabated fury. They stood there to the end without flinching, and when +they fell other men took their places. It is mean and untruthful to say +that the Germans are cowards. Certain it was that their pathetic +bravery—there is always something sad about bravery—so touched the +British that they accepted the surrender without reserve or suspicion. +Even the artillery ceased fire.</p> + +<p>At this point the leading Platoon broke clean away. They could not be +held in. The orderly advance degenerated into a wild dash. Men bent +double and rushed. Determination was written on each flushed face. The +Germans must have been terrified; it looked as if they were to be +bayoneted as they stood, with their arms raised in surrender. It must +have been a very trying moment for them, indeed, as the British raced +towards them up the incline. The leading men were soon clambering up the +embankment. What would happen? Was a disgraceful and bloody massacre +about to begin? The excitement was intense. The Subaltern ran on harder +than ever, with some vague idea of "stopping a scene," but he need not +have bothered. The men were not out for blood or scalps. All they wanted +was souvenirs or helmets! They got them with such success that there was +little left for the other platoons.</p> + +<p>When the Subaltern came up the "show" was over. There were a great many +dead Germans lying, as they had died, behind the embankment. The thought +of taking something which they had worn never occurred to him. If it had +been he would have dismissed it on the grounds that there was no means +of sending such things home, while to add to the weight and worry of his +kit by carrying a "Pickelhaube" about, indefinitely, for the rest of +the campaign, was, of course, unthinkable.</p> + +<p>Then the "rally" sounded, and the companies that had taken part in the +attack began to re-form. There was a considerable delay before two of +the platoons appeared at the rallying point. The men did not come in a +body but by driblets. He began to get nervous about the other two +Subalterns, and in a few minutes went to see what had happened to them.</p> + +<p>"Lord bless you, sir, 'e's all right," said a man in answer to the +Subaltern's inquiry. "We wouldn't let no harm come to '<i>im</i>." The man +who spoke was an old soldier whom he knew well, tall, wiry, +commanding—the sort of man that a young officer leans upon, and who, +reciprocally, relies on his officer. In the old Peace days, if any +special job that required intelligence or reliance were going, he always +saw that this man got it. He had made a sort of pet of him; and now he +was openly, frankly displaying a state of mind akin to worship towards +another officer. It was defection, rank desertion. A ridiculous feeling +of jealousy surged up in the Subaltern's mind, as he turned back towards +the Company.</p> + +<p>As he regained the road, many stretchers passed. They were no longer +things of tragedy, to be passed by with a shudder and averted eyes—he +was getting used to horror.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h3> + +<h4>DEFENCE</h4> + + +<p>It was now midday, and the Officers of the two companies that had been +deployed gathered round the mess-cart. The remaining companies, who had +been kept in local reserve during the fight, were sent out to bury the +dead. The rain began to fall in torrents, and somehow the memory of +crouching under the mess-cart to get shelter has left a far more +definite and indelible impression upon the Subaltern's mind than the +actual moments of danger and excitement.</p> + +<p>A large band of prisoners had been captured by our troops that day. +Small detachments had from time to time been captured ever since the +turn at Chaumes, but this was different. There were long lines of them, +standing bolt upright, and weaponless. The Subaltern looked at them +curiously. They struck him as on the whole taller than the English, and +their faces were not brown, but grey. He admired their coats, there was +a martial air in the long sweep of them. And he confessed that one +looked far more of a soldier in a helmet. There is a ferocity about the +things, a grimness well suited to a soldier.... Not that clothes make +the man.</p> + +<p>He sternly refused himself the pleasure of going to get a closer sight +of them. He wanted very badly to see them, perhaps to talk French with +them, but a feeling that it was perhaps <i>infra dignitatem</i> debarred him. +The men, however, had no such scruples. They crowded round their +captives, and slowly and silently surveyed them. They looked at them +with the same sort of interest that one displays towards an animal in +the Zoo, and the Germans paid just as much attention to their regard as +Zoo animals do. Considering that only a short hour ago they had been +trying to take each other's lives, there seemed to be an appalling lack +of emotion in either party. Fully half an hour the Tommies inspected +them thus. Then, with infinite deliberation, one man produced a packet +of "Caporal" cigarettes and offered one, with an impassive countenance, +to a German. As far as the Subaltern could see, not a single word was +exchanged nor a gesture made. They did not move away until it was time +to fall in.</p> + +<p>The advance was continued until it was dark, and intermittent firing was +heard throughout the afternoon on either flank. The German retreat, +which had in its first stages been conducted with such masterly skill, +was rapidly developing into a hurried and ill-conducted movement, that +bade fair to lead to disaster. Reports of large quantities of prisoners +were coming in more frequently than ever.</p> + +<p>It was at this time that the Subaltern first heard the now notorious +story of the German who had been at the Savoy, and who gave himself up +to the Officer whom he recognised as an old habitué. One of the Officers +in the Regiment said that this had happened to him, and was +believed—for the moment. Later on, Officers out of every corps solemnly +related similar experiences, with occasional variations in the name of +the hotel. Usually it was the Savoy or the Ritz; less often the Carlton, +or even the Cecil, but the "Pic" or the "Troc" were absolutely barred. +The story multiplied so exceedingly that one began to suspect that the +entire German corps in front was exclusively composed of ex-waiters of +smart London hotels.</p> + +<p>Another sign that the Germans were beginning to be thrust back more +quickly than they liked was the frequent abandonment of transport. Whole +trains of motor lorries that had been hastily burned and left by the +roadside, and all sorts of vehicles with broken wheels, were constantly +being passed. The Subaltern remembers seeing a governess cart, and +wondering what use the Germans had found for it. Perhaps a German +colonel had been driven gravely in it, at the head of his men. He +wondered whether the solemn Huns would have been capable of seeing the +humour of such a situation.</p> + +<p>Horses, too, seemed to have been slaughtered by the score. They looked +like toy horses, nursery things of wood. Their faces were so unreal, +their expressions so glassy. They lay in such odd postures, with their +hoofs sticking so stiffly in the air. It seemed as if they were toys, +and were lying just as children had upset them. Even their dimensions +seemed absurd. Their bodies had swollen to tremendous sizes, destroying +the symmetry of life, confirming the illusion of unreality.</p> + +<p>The sight of these carcases burning in the sun, with buzzing myriads of +flies scintillating duskily over their unshod hides, excited a pity that +was almost as deep as his pity for slain human beings. After all, men +came to the war with few illusions, and a very complete knowledge of the +price to be paid. They knew why they were there, what they were doing, +and what they might expect. They could be buoyed up by victory, downcast +by defeat. Above all, they had a Cause, something to fight for, and if +Fate should so decree, something to die for. But these horses were +different; they could neither know nor understand these things. Poor, +dumb animals, a few weeks ago they had been drawing their carts, eating +their oats, and grazing contentedly in their fields. And then suddenly +they were seized by masters they did not know, raced away to places +foreign to them, made to draw loads too great for them, tended +irregularly, or not at all, and when their strength failed, and they +could no longer do their work, a bullet through the brain ended their +misery. Their lot was almost worse than the soldiers'!</p> + +<p>To the Subaltern it seemed an added indictment of war that these +wretched animals should be flung into that vortex of slaughter. He +pitied them intensely, the sight of them hurt him; and the smell of them +nauseated him. Every memory of the whole advance is saturated with that +odour. It was pungent, vigorous, demoralising. It filled the air, and +one's lungs shrank before it. Once, when a man drove his pick through +the crisp, inflated side, a gas spurted out that was positively +asphyxiating and intolerable.</p> + +<p>However much transport the Germans abandoned, however severe the losses +they sustained, they always found time to break open every estaminet +they passed, and drain it dry. Wretched inns and broken bottles proved +to be just as reliable a clue to their passing as the smell of them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h3> + +<h4>THE DEFENCE OF THE BRANDY</h4> + + +<p>The next morning two companies were detached from the Battalion as +escort to a brigade of artillery. The other two companies, who had +returned during the night, did not seem to be greatly upset by their +gruesome task of burying the dead.</p> + +<p>They did not come in contact with the enemy, and no outstanding incident +impressed itself upon the Subaltern's mind. The heat had abated with +dramatic swiftness. A wind that was almost chilly swept the plains, +driving grey clouds continually across the sun. The summer was over. +That day they joined battle with the outposts of a foe that was to prove +more hateful and persistent than the German winter.</p> + +<p>The name of a village known as Suchy-le-Château figured on many of the +signposts that they passed, but they never arrived there, and, branching +off east of Braisne, they came upon the remainder of the Battalion, +drawn up in a stubble field.</p> + +<p>A driving rain had begun to fall early in the afternoon, and when at +length the march was finished their condition was deplorable. Though +tired out with a long day's march, they dared not rest, because to lie +down in the sodden straw was to court sickness. Their boots, worn and +unsoled, offered no resistance whatever to the damp. Very soon they +could hear their sodden socks squelching with water as they walked. A +night of veritable horror lay in front of them; they were appalled with +the prospect of it. The rain seemed to mock at the completeness of their +misery.</p> + +<p>However, the Fates were kind, for the General, happening to pass, took +pity on them and allowed them to be billeted in the outhouses of a farm +near by. The sense of relief which this move gave to the Subaltern was +too huge to describe. Contentment took possession of him utterly. The +tension of his nerves and muscles relaxed: he thought that the worries +and hardships of that day, at least, were over.</p> + +<p>But he was wrong.</p> + +<p>No sooner had his Platoon wearily thrown their rifles and equipment into +the musty barn that was allotted to them, than the Colonel told him that +he would have to sleep with his men, the reason being that the owner of +the farm, on the approach of the Germans, had hidden a large stock of +brandy beneath the straw in the very barn that his men had entered. The +farmer had asked the Colonel to save his liquor from the troops, and the +Colonel, with horrible visions of a regiment unmanageable and madly +intoxicated before his eyes, replied that most assuredly he would see +that the men did not get hold of the brandy. The Subaltern told his +sergeant, but otherwise the proximity of bliss was kept a strict secret +from the men.</p> + +<p>Throughout the whole of that long day the Subaltern had been looking +forward to, longing for, and idealising the rest which was to follow +after the labours of the day. And now that it had at last been achieved, +it proved to be a very poor imitation of the ideal rest and slumber that +he had been yearning for. To begin with, the delays before quarters were +settled upon were interminable. And then this news about the brandy. The +evening meal was delayed almost a couple of hours, and every minute of +the delay annoyed him, because it was so much precious time for sleep +lost. Even when the meal arrived, it proved to be insufficient, and he +was still hungry, cold and damp, when at last he hobbled across the yard +to the barn.</p> + +<p>The place had no ventilation. The air was foul with the smell of damp +grain, and men, and wet boots. He hesitated at the door; he would rather +have slept in the open air, but the yard was inches deep in mud and +manure. He groped forward, and at every inch that he penetrated further +into the place, the air seemed to become thicker, more humid, more foul. +In the thick darkness his foot stumbled on the sleeping form of a man, +who rolled over and swore drowsily. At last, after interminable feeling +in the darkness, and balancing himself on sacks of grain, he attained +the corner where the bottles lay buried, and threw himself down to +sleep.</p> + +<p>But sleep was impossible. In spite of the insupportable atmosphere he +remained cold. Every second some one was moving! One instant a man would +shuffle and cough in one corner, then some one would grunt and groan as +he turned restlessly in his sleep, and the happier few who had achieved +slumber would snore laboriously. Now and then a man would rise shakily +to his feet and thread his way unsteadily to the door, kicking up +against recumbent forms as he went, and evoking language as murky as the +atmosphere. The Subaltern felt a savage joy in the recriminations and +expletives that filled the air. Like lightning, they relieved the +thunder-pressure of the air.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h3> + +<h4>STRATEGY AS YOU LIKE IT</h4> + + +<p>Dawn found them already paraded in the farmyard, shivering, and not much +better rested than when they had entered the barn of dreadful memory the +night before. Each day the accumulation of fatigue and nerve-strain +became greater; each day it grew harder to drag the weary body to its +feet, and trudge onwards. Though the tide of victory had turned, though +every yard they covered was precious ground re-won, they longed very +intensely for a lull. The Subaltern felt in a dim way that the point +beyond which flesh and blood could not endure was not very far ahead. As +it was, he marvelled at himself.</p> + +<p>During the course of the morning the Captain returned to the Company, +with a little map, and a great deal of information concerning the +strategy of the war, about which everybody knew so little.</p> + +<p>To begin at the beginning, he said that the Allies had begun the +campaign under two great disadvantages. The first was their very serious +numerical inferiority in forces that could be immediately used. If +numbers alone counted, the Germans were bound to win until the French +were fully mobilised.</p> + +<p>The other disadvantage was the pre-conceived notion that the German +Government would keep its word with regard to the violation of Belgian +neutrality. If this had been observed, it would have been almost a +strategical impossibility to turn the Allied left flank. The attack in +force was expected to be made in the Lorraine area. Consequently, when +it became evident that the main German effort was to be launched through +Belgium, all pre-conceived plans of French concentration had either to +be abandoned, or, at any rate, greatly modified in order to meet the +enemy offensive from an unexpected quarter.</p> + +<p>After their unexpected set-back at Liège, the invaders met with little +resistance from the Belgian army, which was, of course, hopelessly +outnumbered, and their armies were rapidly forming up on a line north of +the Sambre, which roughly extended south-east by east to north-west by +west. Meanwhile, the initial French offensive which had been launched in +the region of the Vosges had resulted in the temporary capture of +Mülhouse, and had then been abandoned in order to face the threatening +disaster from the north.</p> + +<p>It was thought advisable to wait until the concentration of the English +Army was completed, then, to comply with an obvious rule of strategy +which says, "Always close with your enemy when and wherever he shows +himself, in order to discover and hold him to his dispositions," a +general advance was made along the whole centre and left of the Allied +line. The line swung forward, and perhaps some day one of the handful +of men who know will tell exactly what was the object of this movement. +Was it meant to join battle in all seriousness with the enemy, and to +drive him from Belgium, or was it just a precautionary measure to hold +and delay him? Probably the latter. The Allied Generalissimo had +probably made up his mind to the fact that the first battle—the battle +in Belgium—was already lost by the Allies' lateness in concentration. +Regarded in this light the battle in Belgium was undoubtedly the +greatest rear-guard action in History.</p> + +<p>On account of a possible under-estimation of the enemy's strength, and +of the completeness of his dispositions, the Allies found themselves, +when the lines first clashed, in a more serious position than they +probably anticipated. The enemy gained two initial successes that +decided, past doubt, the fate of the battle which was now raging along +the whole front from Mons to Mülhouse. Namur, the fortress which had +enjoyed a reputation as the Port Arthur of Europe, fell before the +weight of the German siege howitzer in a few days. The magnitude of the +disaster appalled the whole world, for indirectly the piercing of these +forts laid open the road to Paris. Nor was this all. The enemy forced +the passage of the Sambre at Charleroi, and threatened to cut the Allied +centre from the left. The British Army, on the extreme left, found +itself confronted by a numerical superiority of nearly three to one, +while its left flank and lines of communication with Havre were +seriously menaced by a huge body of Uhlan cavalry. In a word, the +positions taken up by the whole of the Allied centre and left were no +longer tenable. To hang on would have been to court disaster. There was +nothing for it but to cut and go.</p> + +<p>But the Allies did not meet with the same ill luck along the whole line. +The small successes gained on the right, in Alsace, had apparently been +consolidated. The German tide through Luxembourg was stemmed, and, even +though the Kaiser himself witnessed its bombardment, Nancy held out. But +the trump card in the Allies' hand was Verdun. De Castlenau clung +resolutely to the chain of forts crowning the heights in front of the +town, and his successful defence saved Paris. Whatever might happen to +the centre and left, the right, at any rate, seemed safe.</p> + +<p>The Allied Generalissimo was forced to give way before the fury of the +German onslaught in Belgium. He withdrew his armies while there was yet +time, thus averting irrevocable disaster. According to all the rules of +the game, he should have retired his whole line southwards, in order to +ensure the safety of Paris. But he did not throw his highest trump: he +clung to Verdun, and left Paris exposed. His armies retreated, not on +the Capital, but in a sweeping movement that was hinged upon Verdun. He +realised that the fate of Paris depended not upon its being covered by +the Allies, but upon the fate of the second great battle of the war.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the great retreat—this hinging movement—continued, very +slowly near Verdun, very, very swiftly on the left. Days passed; no +attempt was made to check the enemy's advance, and the passing of each +day left Paris more exposed. The world gasped at the breathless +swiftness with which disaster seemed to be swooping down upon the +Capital. But every day de Castlenau was consolidating his defence of +Verdun, in face of tremendous odds; and every day the ferocity of the +German onrush waned. The line continued to swing resolutely back, until +such time as a completed mobilisation should allow the Allies to turn +upon the enemy in greater force, in their own time, and on chosen +ground. A premature effort would have spoiled all. They had to wait for +their chance.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, rapid concentrations of reserves were taking place behind the +line, the most famous instance of which was the Reserve Army moved out +of Paris by General Galliéni in taxis, fiacres, and any vehicle the +authorities could commandeer to ensure that the Army should be in its +place in time. It was in its place. Just as the world was beginning to +say that the war was over, General Joffre decided that the iron was hot, +that the time to strike had arrived. "The moment has come," he wrote, +"to die where you stand, rather than give way."</p> + +<p>The outlook changed from black to rose with the completeness and ease of +a pantomime transformation scene. The Verdun heights remained +impregnable. The whole line turned and fought where it stood. The +enemy, worn out by his exertions, stretched his line of communications +to breaking-point, and it was said that his supplies of food and +munitions had come temporarily very near to collapse. The Allies checked +him. He could not even hold his own. In two days he was moving back, +away from Paris.</p> + +<p>The economic reasons were not the only factors in his downfall. He was +beaten by the Allied morale, and also by the Allied strategy. Von Kluck, +the Commander of the German right, hurrying on in an abortive pursuit of +the British Army, found that he was outflanked by the army of Galliéni, +which, stronger than his own, threatened his line of communications. To +press on towards Paris would have been suicidal. To linger in his +present position would have been to court capture. He, therefore, began +the famous march across the French front, by which he hoped to gain +touch with the army on his left, and as he turned, the British and +French fell upon him simultaneously, as in a vice. For a day the line +wavered irresolutely, then Von Kluck realised that the pendulum of +success was beginning to swing the other way. He had to retire or face +irretrievable disaster.</p> + +<p>Thus Paris was saved. The tremendous blow aimed at it was parried, and +it seemed as if the striker tottered, as if he had overreached his +strength. The treachery with which the Germans had inaugurated the +movement, the brutality and cruelty with which they had carried it +through, were brought to nothing before the superior morale of the +Allied troops, and the matchless strategy of their Commander.</p> + +<p>The enemy was checked along the whole line, but the Allies were not +satisfied with that. The French flung themselves upon the invader with a +ferocity and heroism that was positively reminiscent of the Napoleonic +legends. General Foch, in command of the General Reserve, achieved the +culminating success in this victory, known as the Battle of the Marne. +He broke the enemy's line: he thrust into the gap a wedge so powerful +that the enemy was forced to give way on either side of it, because his +centre was broken. The victory of the Marne was assured.</p> + +<p>Slowly at first, latterly with increasing speed, the Allies were hurling +the enemy northwards. He was becoming more demoralised every day. A +victory even greater than the Marne was in sight.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"And that," said the Captain, "is where we are at present."</p> + +<p>"They'll turn on us in a day or two, and then there'll be the devil of a +fight," said the Senior Subaltern.</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed at him, but they had an uneasy feeling that he would +be right.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h3> + +<h4>THE LAST ADVANCE</h4> + + +<p>While he was dreaming, the time slipped by almost unnoticed. It was not +until eleven o'clock that a halt was made. He could just discern in the +darkness the dim outlines of what appeared to be a large farm-house, +surrounded by barns and outhouses. Some transport had got jammed in the +yard. He could hear the creak of wheels, the stamping of hoofs, and +shouts. There was not a light anywhere, and they waited for half-an-hour +that seemed interminable, for they were drenched through, and tired, and +were longing for any cover out of the wet. Sounds of shuffling were +heard in front, and at last they found themselves on the move again. +Another fifty yards, as far as a gate in a wall, and then they stuck +again. More weary, exasperating minutes; then at last the bedraggled +figure of the Captain loomed out of the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Is that you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"All right, lead round here!"</p> + +<p>He led them to a large barn, and they turned in to sleep just as they +were. No supper, not a fire to dry their sodden clothes, not a blanket +to cover their chilled bodies.</p> + +<p>As usual, they got to sleep somehow, and as usual dawn came about thirty +hours before they were ready for it.</p> + +<p>They moved out immediately, and continued the course of the march. The +rain-laden clouds had rolled completely away. The sky looked hard and +was scarcely blue; the country was swept by a strong nipping wind, for +which they were very thankful, since it served to dry their clothes.</p> + +<p>The Machine-gun Officer, passing down the Battalion, walked with them +while he told them two wonderful stories. It may have been crude, but in +another way it was almost as satisfying as breakfast.</p> + +<p>He solemnly explained to them that the war was nearly over. The Germans, +lured into making this tremendous and unnecessary effort to capture +Paris, had left their eastern front dangerously weak. The Russians were +pouring into Germany in their millions. The Cossacks were already around +Posen. Nobody quite knew where Posen was, but it sounded deliciously +like Potsdam. Anyway, they would be there in a month.</p> + +<p>A few surplus millions, who, presumably on account of the crush, could +not burst into Germany by the quickest route, had been despatched, <i>via</i> +Archangel, to the northern coast of Scotland. Their progress +thenceforwards is, of course, notorious. By now they had safely landed +at Antwerp, and had pursued a career that must have bored them as +monotonously victorious. Namur, "and all those places" had been +captured, and at that moment Maubeuge was being relieved. The Germans +were being sandwiched between the victorious Russian, French and British +Arms. They could only escape as through the neck of a bottle. And the +end of the war was so near, and so definite, that it almost lacked +interest.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern was elated. He refused to question the likelihood of such +tales. He was hungry for just such cheering stories of success. And when +he got them, he devoured them with avidity, without ever looking at +them. The effect on him was bracing. It was glorious, he told himself, +to have taken part in such happenings. The only cloud on his horizon was +the fact that the chance to do distinguished acts had never come to him. +The Regimental Colours never required saving under heavy fire, for the +simple reason that they reposed safely at the depôt. Neither did the +Colonel, a most profitable person to rescue, ever get wounded in the +open, and give an opportunity for gallant rescue work. He had never had +a chance to "stick a Bosch." He had never drawn his sword in a +triumphant charge, never blazed his revolver in a face, never twisted a +bayonet on a body. It would require courage, he told himself, to admit +these things when he was back again at home.</p> + +<p>You must not laugh at the stories of the Machine-Gunner. He believed +what he wanted to believe. Remember, too, that the Allies were then at +the zenith of the greatest victory that was achieved in the first +eighteen months of the war. The strategical ideas of the Machine-Gunner +may have been faulty, but he has saved more lives with his guns than any +doctor in the land.</p> + +<p>At about eight o'clock in the morning, the Subaltern saw the Company in +front twisting off the road, and forming up in "mass" in the open field. +They were then in the centre of a large plateau, which offered an +uninterrupted view of miles of flat country on every side. A rough +"outpost" disposition, with which he was fortunately not sent, was +detailed, and the news was spread that there was to be a halt of several +hours.</p> + +<p>The business of drying clothes, and cleaning up, instantly began. +Ingrained soldierly cleanliness of the men was displayed. Without any +order, and in spite of their weariness, whenever they were halted over +an hour in the daylight—which had very seldom happened—they would +immediately set about shaving, and cleaning themselves and their rifles. +They shaved with the cold water, poured from their water-bottles into +the lids of their canteens. There was a vast rubbing of bolts, and +"pulling through" of barrels. An erstwhile barber in the Senior +Subaltern's Platoon did tremendous business with a pair of scissors and +a comb, his patrons being seated on an upturned ammunition-case.</p> + +<p>They had not halted long before a "mail" came in. The Subaltern was not +among the lucky few who received letters or small parcels. Not that he +minded much. From whomever the letter might come, or in whatever vein it +had been written, he admitted to himself that he would feel savage with +it, and would have dismissed it as "hot air" if it were sympathetic, or +as "hard-hearted" if it were anything else.</p> + +<p>He wrote home on the now famous postcards that inform the addressee +that, on such and such a date, the sender was alive and well. He felt +very relieved that at last he had an opportunity to relieve the anxiety +of the people at home.</p> + +<p>The best part of the two hours was spent in "franking"—that is +censoring—his men's letters. It was a very unwelcome task, and although +he thoroughly appreciated the military necessity, he cordially hated +being forced, as it were, to pry into their private affairs.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the wind had dried them, and the sun was high in the heavens. +Rations arrived, and were distributed. The sun and the tea warmed them, +and in the afternoon a little sleep was possible.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern was aroused at about four o'clock, and the march was +continued. The Senior Subaltern had received a box of Abdullas in the +post, which he kindly shared with his two juniors. The cigarettes seemed +enormously fat, and the tobacco extraordinarily pale. They had smoked +nothing but the little "Caporal" French cigarettes—and not many of +them—since their own supply had given out. They had said all along how +much they longed for "decent English" cigarettes, and now they had got +them they were not at all so sure that they liked them.</p> + +<p>There was a Lance-Corporal in the Company who was not as generous to +his fellows as the Senior Subaltern had been. He smoked the cigarettes +he had been sent, persistently, and with obvious enjoyment. The men +around him were hungry for a "whiff"; the sight of him calmly lighting a +fresh "fag" at the stump of the old maddened them beyond endurance. At +length one man could bear it no longer.</p> + +<p>"Look at '<i>im</i>, a'eatin' of 'em. Lor! give a thought to yer ruddy +comrades, can't yer?"</p> + +<p>They seemed to miss tobacco more poignantly than any other luxury.</p> + +<p>A little later, sounds of great artillery bombardments rose up in front +of them and on each side, but they could not yet see any signs of a +fight, as they had not yet reached the edge of the plateau.</p> + +<p>Further on, the road descended slightly, and a very little way ahead the +Subaltern saw, for the first time, a Battery of heavy artillery at work. +The whole affair seemed to him to be singularly peaceful. The men went +to work in the same efficient and rapid way that they would have done in +a machine-room. Their targets were, of course, invisible, and there was +no attempt to cover the guns from sight, nor to protect them from +hostile shells. He was surprised to see how comparatively slowly the gun +recoiled after discharge. The noise was ear-splitting, terrific.</p> + +<p>"There'll be some fun when the Transport comes along," said the Senior +Subaltern, with unholy glee.</p> + +<p>He was right: there probably would be a great deal of "fun." The +Battery was not more than fifty yards from the road on the left, while +on the right there was a drop, at an angle of at least sixty degrees, of +twenty yards. He imagined the frightened horses careering madly down the +slope, the carts and wagons bumping and crashing down upon them—the +kicking, struggling heap below!</p> + +<p>Then, just as it was growing dark, they reached the edge of the plateau, +and the huge rolling valley of the Aisne swam before them in the purple +twilight. The further heights were already wrapt up in darkness; and the +ground, glowing green at their feet, merged in the distance to rich +velvet patches of purple and brown. The river itself was hidden by the +trees clustering round its banks, but they could guess its course, +winding away for a score or so of miles to the east.</p> + +<p>"What a beautiful scene," he said reverently.</p> + +<p>The Senior Subaltern may, or may not, have appreciated the beauty of the +scene. His eye was on the further heights.</p> + +<p>"This is where they will try to stand," he said.</p> + +<p>And, as usual, he was right.</p> + +<p>They looked across to where the dark heights opposite were thrown out +clearly against the pale sky, faintly yellow with the reflected glory of +the sunset at their backs. Lights momentarily twinkled, now here, now +there, intermittently along the whole line, as far as they could see. It +was just as if matches were being struck, and instantly blown out again. +But all the time the low, booming noise floated across to them. It was +the German heavy artillery, slinging over heavier projectiles than, so +far, it had been their bad fortune to meet.</p> + +<p>Just as they were entering a little village, nestling half-way down the +slope, a tremendous explosion happened. There was a thunder-clap of +noise, and a perfect cloud of earth and stones and wood was thrown high +into the air. It was their introduction to the famous "Jack Johnson."</p> + +<p>But, "Jack Johnson" or no "Jack Johnson," they marched on into the +village, and were allotted billets for the night. The men of the Company +were very comfortably accommodated in a barn half filled with dry hay, +which, of course, is a great deal more pleasant to sleep upon than +straw. The Officers went into a little cottage by the barn, and, having +intimated to the owner of it that they were willing to buy anything she +could sell them to eat or drink, flung off their equipment and went out +into the little farmyard.</p> + +<p>The air was rosy with the sunset light; even the rising dust was golden. +The sky overhead was the palest of dusky whites. It was not a sky: it +was just Eternity. Out of it, infinitely far, yet comparatively close, a +few stars were beginning to wink.</p> + +<p>The men in the yard were cooking their evening meal over a few little +fires, squatting over them, eyeing anxiously the brewing tea or +frizzling bacon. It was impossible to feel nervous or discontented. The +very atmosphere was benign. It seemed as if "God was in His Heaven," and +all was well with the World.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h3> + +<h4>SATURDAY NIGHT</h4> + + +<p>Every picture wakened in the mind of the reader by the preceding +chapters should be bathed in the brightest of sunshine, under the bluest +of skies, and the horizons should quiver with the blue heat. From now +onwards he must imagine grey skies, often streaming rain, and always +muddy roads and sodden grass.</p> + +<p>That day saw the inauguration of a new kind of misery for our troops. +Dust, heat and thirst, their previous tormentors, retired in favour of +mud, chill and an unappeasable hunger. Their overstrained nerves and +worn bodies rendered them very susceptible even to the first breath of +autumn.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern had lost all his underwear except his shirt, and part of +his socks. His breeches were torn at the knee, and he felt the chill of +the wind very acutely. He could feel the damp mud through the flapping +toes of his boot.</p> + +<p>Then it began to rain—no mere light summer shower, that cooled one's +face and clothes, and delightfully wet one's hands, but a real autumnal +downpour. Hastily he undid the straps which tied his Burberry, and +shuffled into it, as he marched along. It was caked with mud, and smelt +of the earth that he had so often grovelled in, but as he fastened the +hooks beneath his chin, he felt profoundly glad of it, elated that he +had something to keep off the chill and wet. He buttoned it down to his +knees and experienced the faint sensation of comfort that one feels when +drawing one's blinds to shut out a stormy night.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Then the guns began to rattle by; always an ominous sign, for it meant +that battle was imminent. It was a remarkable thing that neither +infantry nor artillery took much notice of each other as they met. The +guns and carriages would thunder and bump and clatter over the pavé, the +thickset horses straining at their harness, the drivers urging them on. +But the infantry would plod along just the same, regardless of the noise +and bustle. The men would not even raise their eyes from the boots of +the preceding four.</p> + +<p>Very soon after the last gun-carriage had rattled past, sounds of a +bombardment would be heard—the bangs and whizz of shells. The Column +would probably be halted, while a reconnaissance was made to ascertain +in what force the enemy was holding his position. As a rule, deployments +were not necessary, for the artillery generally succeeded in dislodging +the enemy off their own bat. Such affairs as this happened no less than +three times before it was dark, and in each case the Germans had had to +leave their dead and wounded behind them.</p> + +<p>One poor fellow lay with his head propped up against a heap of stones +by the wayside. His chin and mouth had been torn from his face, and the +ragged flesh hung in tatters, red and bleeding, as it had been torn. +Almost before their eyes the man was passing away. It was awful.</p> + +<p>"Poor devil, all this 'ere wasn't 'is fault, yer know," a man muttered.</p> + +<p>As far as the Subaltern could hear, no one answered him. Perhaps some of +them were wondering where that dying man's soul was going to. One was a +Christian, of course, but one wanted to know more. One wanted, very +badly, a little precise, definite knowledge of What Happens—after. At +that moment he hated <i>Hamlet</i>. Yet the words kept surging through his +brain: "To die ... to sleep ... in that sleep of death, what dreams may +come?... puzzles the will ... makes us rather bear the ills we have, +than fly to others that we know not of!"</p> + +<p>Not that conscience had "made a coward" of him, nor of any other man or +boy he had ever seen, a great deal nearer to death and vital, elementary +things than Shakespeare had ever been. He felt a little foolish for it, +but all the same he was thrilled by a sensation of triumphant +superiority to the Bard of Avon.</p> + +<p>All the time the rain was streaming down, and all the time their clothes +grew wetter and wetter. Just before dusk a halt was made by the +roadside, and at last the booming of the guns died down to a silence +that was only broken by the incessant patter of the rain upon the sodden +earth.</p> + +<p>There was not much to eat, only biscuits, whose freshness and crispness +had been lost in moist pockets. Nobody was thirsty: there was too much +water externally!</p> + +<p>It was quite dark when they moved on. Somehow the darkness used to come +to them as a tremendous relief, as an armistice. They felt, in a subtle +way, more at home in it, for it shut out from their eyes the strange +sights and horrors of a land quite foreign to them. After the wearing +day, it brought a freshness that was exhilarating, a refreshing coolness +to the cheeks and hands that was gratifying and soothing. In spite of +everything their spirits rose.</p> + +<p>As they passed over a little railway station, innocent, as usual, of any +suspicion of a platform, with a box set up as waiting-room, one of the +men in the section of fours behind him stumbled heavily over the single +lines.</p> + +<p>"Nah then, Bill, wotcher doing to New Street Station?" New Street +Station, with its smoke, and hurrying crowds, and shrieking steam to be +compared to this clean, open, deserted spot! The daring of such a +comparison was stupendous. It appealed instantly to the men's sense of +the ridiculous. They roared with laughter.</p> + +<p>The rain fell with depressing regularity, the wind blew gustily, but the +ice had been broken, an example had been set, and they all vied with +each other in forgetting their troubles in laughter.</p> + +<p>"Blessed if it ain't Saturday night!" said one. It was impossible to say +offhand what day it was, but after a slight argument they arrived at +the astounding discovery that it was indeed Saturday. The discovery was +astounding, because it was almost incredible to them that such misery +could happen on a Saturday night—<i>the</i> night of the week—the night of +marketing, of toothsome dishes, of melodrama and music halls.</p> + +<p>"If my missus could see me now," roared a Reservist, "wouldn't her +laff!" He was, perhaps, a great deal more amused than she would have +been, poor woman.</p> + +<p>"I ain't agoing to Church to-morrer," said another, with assumed +languor. "I'll lay a'bed, an' smoke me baccy, an' read me Sunday papers" +(derisive groans).</p> + +<p>"Me and Sam's goin' on 'Midnight Pass' ter-night, ain't we, Sam?" +inquired a young "timeserving" fellow. "Who's on at the Hipper-drome?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Mah-rie Lloyd."</p> + +<p>"Get urt, you'm too young to see our Mah-rie." Roars of laughter, that +almost shut out the wind with their heartiness!</p> + +<p>The Subaltern could tell very accurately how their thoughts were flying +homewards, and he could see the very same pictures in front of their +eyes, because he lived near to where most of them lived, and knew the +sights that most of them knew. Their homes on Saturday night! The warm +red tiles of their kitchen floors; the "scrap" mats (laboriously hand +sewn) in front of the bright fires in their "grates." The walls of +their "parlours," bedecked with gorgeous lithographs, calendars and +framed texts!</p> + +<p>All the things they loved so much to do on Saturday nights. The humming +market street, entirely blocked with its double rows of booths. How +pleasant it must have seemed to them! At the top of the street the +church stared impassively into space; at the bottom, the trams clanged +and grinded as they rounded the corner and swung triumphantly into the +square. The stalls, brightly lit by flaring gas-jets, laden with meat, +fish, fruit, sweets, music, flowers, all that the Soul could long for +throughout a restful Sunday day. Their womenfolk, with their heads +covered in the ubiquitous shawl of many colours, buzzing busily from +booth to booth, with a purse clutched in one hand, and an open "string" +bag, filled with bulky newspaper-covered parcels, in the other. The men +looking on with hands in pockets, English-wise, indefinably +self-conscious in the face of the delicate business of shopping. Then +perhaps an hour or two's excitement in a shag-scented picture palace, or +a crowded music hall with some big star at the top of the bill, a small +one at the bottom, and the between turns lamentable. And, of course, a +visit to some busy "saloon bar" redolent of "beer and 'baccy." Then home +on the electric tram.</p> + +<p>The thought of it all did not, as might be expected, make them sad. In +fact, the home memories seemed to warm their hearts, and the humour of +this "Saturday night," which might have left more delicately cultured +natures untouched, appealed to them irresistibly.</p> + +<p>That night the Subaltern, too, had his dreams. They did not fly +homewards: he would have hated to have been surrounded and overwhelmed +by his family: he shrank at the thought of congratulations: he shuddered +at the idea of explanations. To-night he would have wished to be quite +alone. And in London!</p> + +<p>First of all would come a hot bath at the hotel—a tremendous scrubbing, +and a "rub down," with a big towel—haircuttings, and shaving, and nail +cleanings! Then he would get into mufti. He chose, after a careful +review, a lounge suit of a grey-blue colour that had been fashionable +that summer. It was light, and he had always liked the feel of it on his +shoulders. He chose the shirt, collar and tie to go with it. He imagined +himself completely dressed, and he looked with pleasure down at the +straight creases in his trousers, at his neat patent leather boots with +their suède tops. It pleased him tremendously to imagine himself once +more properly "clothed and in his right mind."</p> + +<p>The next thing would be a feed. He reminded himself of his hunger, and +argued that he did not want anything "fancy." He would go to a grill and +order just what he liked, and a lot of it. The "Trocerdilli" was just +the place. First of all would come a "short one"—not that he needed an +appetiser! He imagined himself seated at a table, the cloth startlingly +white, the cutlery and glasses reflecting a thousand points of light. +He could hear the band, above the whirr of conversation, playing +something he knew. He was glancing down the menu card, and the waiter +was at his side. A soup that was succulent, thick and hot—his mouth +watered! Whitebait, perhaps. He saw their round little eyes and stiff +tails as he squeezed his slice of lemon over them. He felt the +wafer-slice of brown bread and butter in his fingers. A whisky-and-soda, +and a double one at that, to drink—he was tired of these French wines. +<i>A steak</i> "from the grill"—undoubtedly a steak—tender, juicy, red, +with "chipped" potatoes, lying in long gold-and-brown fingers around it. +His teeth clashed at the thought of it! What would he have "to follow"? +Something rich and cold! A <i>meringue glacée</i> was not good enough for the +occasion. A cream <i>bombe glacée</i>, or, better still, a <i>Pêche Melba</i>. He +saw the red syrup stuff in the little glass plate that it would be +served on. And the peach—like the cheeks of a lovely child! At last, if +he could manage it—which he did not at the moment doubt—something in +the savoury omelette line. And to finish up with, the Egyptian should +bring him some coffee. He saw the Egyptian very clearly, with his little +red cap and his dusky cheeks. Then, last of all, the man with the cigars +and liqueurs wheeled his tray. A good cigar from the top tray, clipped +and lit by the man's lamp. Then to choose from the half score of bottles +on the lower tray. Chartreuse, Benedictine, better still, Grand +Marmier.</p> + +<p>That really was all. Nothing to do now but lean back in his chair, and +between his sips gaze contentedly through his cigar smoke at the lights, +the mirrors, the palms, and whirring electric fans and the happy, +flushed diners, with that curious, strained, puzzled and amused look +that creeps into the backs of people's eyes at such times.</p> + +<p>Then he pictured himself leaving the restaurant, climbing the stairs. +The glass door was thrown open for him to pass through, with a gesture +that was positively grandiloquent.</p> + +<p>The cold air of the street was fanning his heated cheek. People were +sweeping by him as he walked down Coventry Street. Ships that passed in +the night! Passionate eyes stabbed him. Strange scents momentarily swept +over him....</p> + +<p>There was a completeness of detail in all these pictures that wrung from +him a very grim smile. Would he remember the war as vividly as he then +remembered all that?</p> + +<p>He saw himself pause in the gutter of Wardour Street while a taxi slid +by. He saw himself survive the lure of the Empire, saw himself deciding +not to cross the road, and go down to the Alhambra.</p> + +<p>Eventually he reached a music hall. He was going in now. He was taking +his place that moment in the plush stall. On the stage a little pseudo +nigger was joking privately with the conductor. He laughed at one of the +jokes he remembered. Then a woman came on. She was tragic, stately. He +was thrilled by her slimness, her weirdness, her vitality. The whole +atmosphere of the theatre was electrified by her personality. She was +singing a song in a way that he had never heard before. He remembered it +still. It was a Tango song. "His Tango girl!" His thoughts flew off at a +tangent....</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h3> + +<h4>THE CROSSING OF THE AISNE</h4> + + +<p>They spent a delectable night, with their boots off, between real +blankets, after a real wash. Very early, before it was really light, +they joined on to the Battalion, and slid down the hill.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern had a few moments' talk with a friend who had commanded +the "Divisional Guard" during the night.</p> + +<p>"Scarcely got any sleep," he said. "But I took a peep at their room. It +was laid out for a pucca breakfast. Jove, I could have done with some!"</p> + +<p>At the door of the house he had been guarding, quite alone, and leaning +heavily on his thick stick, stood the Divisional Commander. No doubt he +knew of the struggle that lay before them, and was taking the +opportunity of reviewing his battalions as they went in to battle. His +face was red, his hair was iron grey, and rather long. He was a fine big +man, there was a presence to him, a rugged and determined look.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later they had plunged into the depths of a thick morning +mist, that rolled like a lake between the heights. The steep road led +them at length to the banks of the Aisne. The Germans had naturally +blown up the bridge behind them, but the Sappers had erected a temporary +structure by the side of the ruined one. It quivered under their weight, +and as the Subaltern looked at the water swirling so swiftly beneath, he +wondered what would happen if one of those huge shells were to blow it +sky high....</p> + +<p>Running parallel to the river, and about thirty yards away, was a canal. +This was likewise successfully passed, and so the Aisne was crossed +without a shot being fired.</p> + +<p>The Battalion was concentrated while the rest of the Brigade crossed the +river. And all the time the sun was chasing away the light clouds of +river vapour. Soon the enemy would see them, and they would be caught in +this difficult and dangerous movement, and the results would be +disastrous.</p> + +<p>But the minutes passed, and the mist melted almost entirely away, and +still the guns were silent. At last they moved off, and began to ascend +the slope. They were only just clear of the place when there was a +whistle, a shriek, a bang and a roar. The explosion was two or three +times greater than anything they had heard before. The very noise was +intimidating, paralysing, and before they had had time to rally their +nerves and collect themselves, before the awakened echoes had died away +in the woods above, a second shell, as mighty as the first, sailed over +their heads and exploded as titanically as it had done. This was the +first occasion on which the British Armies had been brought face to +face with the German super-heavy artillery. Naturally the result was a +little disconcerting.</p> + +<p>Tons of death-dealing metal and explosive were being hurled through the +air as if Atlas were hurling stars about. There was something elemental, +and superhuman about such colossal force. One felt like a pygmy in a +Battle of the Gods.</p> + +<p>They were profoundly ignorant of anything that was happening. Everything +was normal, except the roar of guns. There was not even a sign of the +cavalry being driven in. The only thing to do was to keep on until an +order came, or something definite happened.</p> + +<p>The road had turned into a village called Moussy, and was now running +parallel to the river, along the side of the slope. An order was passed +along to "keep down under cover of the right bank," so they advanced, +half crouching, about half a mile.</p> + +<p>Then, with a suddenness that amazed him, the Subaltern saw the Platoon +in front begin to scramble hastily over the bank, and run off directly +up the hill. No order was given, he could see no explanation for such a +move. He hesitated for a second, wondering whether it would not be +better to find out what was happening before he moved his Platoon. But +battles are sometimes lost by just such pauses, so he waved his arm, +signalling to deploy and extend to the right. A second or so later his +men were in line with the other Platoon, advancing over a green field +towards a bank. Their rifles were loaded, bayonets fixed, bodies bent +forward—ready for anything.</p> + +<p>They did not have long to wait.</p> + +<p>Another "Jack Johnson" landed in front of them. They could see the earth +as it flew upwards the other side of the hedge. Was it a chance shot, or +would the Germans land a direct "hit" next time? That was the question +that worried the Subaltern as he advanced to the hedge. He was also +puzzled as to what was really happening, or what he was expected to do. +Not another Officer was in sight.</p> + +<p>In a few seconds the bank was reached. Here he made a temporary halt for +the men to recover their breath. Men cannot be expected to shoot well if +they cannot breathe.</p> + +<p>Half a minute passed, and he began to consider the advisability of +sending out several scouts to reconnoitre, as the whole responsibility +of command in that part seemed to rest with him.</p> + +<p>"'Ere's the Captain a-comin' up," said a man.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, there he was, coming up behind the bank. The Subaltern +heaved a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"D'you know what this is all about, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the Captain, as much as to say "How should I?"</p> + +<p>"We had better hold on here, and wait and see what is to be done," he +added.</p> + +<p>Arm-chair strategists may not know it, but a man who has not learned how +to "wait and see" is not much use in tactical warfare. War is not, as +some people seem to think, an excuse for a perfect orgy of recklessness. +But that is by the way.</p> + +<p>"It would not be a bad idea if you went forward to see what is +happening. I think I can see some people coming up between the trees on +the left there."</p> + +<p>The Subaltern set out, without loss of time. Yes, there certainly were +"people" advancing cautiously up the hill, from round the corner, but +there were not many of them. Still crouching, he began once more to +mount the hill. As he neared the top, he dropped on his hands and knees +in the long grass, as he feared that he might unwittingly appear over +the enemy's skyline, and be shot down where he stood.</p> + +<p>He peered cautiously about him. The summit of the hill was round and +smooth. Not a particle of cover was offered, but about twenty yards down +the other side he saw the edge of a dense wood, which appeared to roll, +uninterrupted, half-way up the further slope. The top of this slope +formed the skyline, and seemed to be about three-quarters of a mile +away. Except for the men working their way up on his left, whom he had +already noticed, there was not a man in sight; but the shells were still +sailing overhead.</p> + +<p>At length the party came up, and amongst them was the Colonel of one of +the Battalions in the Brigade. The Subaltern immediately asked him for +orders.</p> + +<p>"As far as I can see," said the Colonel, "this hill is a sort of +salient in our line. The enemy are probably holding that ridge along +there," pointing to the skyline. "Anyway, we will hold on to this hill +until I have orders for a general attack."</p> + +<p>The Subaltern walked down the hill to report what he had found out.</p> + +<p>"All right," said the Captain; "you had better take your Platoon and all +these men round about here, and help to hold on to the hill."</p> + +<p>He called for his Section Commanders, explained what was to be done, and +set off once more. As they were just about to cross the crest, he +signalled to them to "get down," and at length they took up a sort of +position along the edge of the wood on the other side.</p> + +<p>The enemy had evidently not "spotted" them, and they were left in peace +for an hour. Then their troubles began.</p> + +<p>It seemed as though the hill suddenly became a place of vast importance. +The Colonel arrived upon the scene, with reinforcements of over a +hundred men, and they immediately set to work putting the hill into a +state of defence. Then a battery of field guns were drawn up into +position on the "safe" side of the hill, and began without delay to +shell the enemy. Their arrival, however, was decidedly a mixed blessing. +So far, the troops had held the hill quite successfully, and had been +undisturbed by hostile artillery, for the simple reason that the enemy +was unaware of their positions. Now the artillery had come and "given +the whole show away," and no sooner did the enemy discover that the +hill was held, than he began forthwith to bombard them.</p> + +<p>It was obviously impossible to continue "digging in." The only thing to +do was to squeeze one's self into the ground, and pray. It seemed as if +the titanic thunderbolts, that had hitherto been hurled aimlessly about, +were suddenly concentrated on that one spot. It seemed as if all the +gods in Olympus were hurling their rage upon it, determined to +obliterate it from the face of the earth. The most gigantic guns that +had ever been used in war were concentrating their fire upon it, and the +result was awful. Nothing they had experienced before was comparable to +it. It seemed as if the ground were being thrashed with whips of a +thousand leaden-loaded thongs. The smell of the lyddite was nauseating, +the uproar stupefying. Dust rose in the air; trees crashed to the +ground.</p> + +<p>Hell was let loose: Hell and Death were dashing around, converting that +normal sky and that sane earth into a Pandemonium. The wonder was that a +human life was spared. The Subaltern had a fleeting feeling that every +one except himself must be dead. When the storm seemed for a moment to +have abated, he looked around him and was surprised to see that very +little damage had been done to the men. An inexperienced eye would +possibly not have detected any casualties at all. From a Kipling point +of view, the scene was an artistic failure. Not a man was shrieking; not +a man "clawing up the ground." Here and there men had rolled over on +their sides, and were groaning quite softly to themselves. Here and +there a purple patch in the dusty khaki....</p> + +<p>The instinct of men, like animals, is to crawl quietly away from their +fellows, and die in solitude.</p> + +<p>The Colonel, very little perturbed by the bombardment, had sat +throughout with his back resting against a tree, writing messages, or +glaring at the map. Once, a large piece of shell casing had buried +itself in the ground a few inches from his leg. The jagged piece was hot +and heavy.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens," he said to himself, "what curious things Chance and Fate +are. If I had stretched my leg out! Why didn't I?" He smiled.</p> + +<p>At length a few Stretcher Bearers began to arrive, and the worst cases +were carried off by them. Many of the less seriously wounded had to +hobble, or even crawl down the hill, as best they could. It was a +pitiable sight.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern looked up, and caught the eye of an Officer being carried +off on a stretcher. His mutilated leg was covered by his Burberry. He +instantly recognised him as an Officer who had "brought out" a "draft" +some time previously.</p> + +<p>If he were suffering great pain, he did not show it. He seemed annoyed, +and a little ashamed.</p> + +<p>"Just the look," thought the Subaltern, "that a fellow wears when he's +out at Cricket—walking back to the Pavilion."</p> + +<p>The comparison, though not happy, was apt. It was just like Cricket. +Some missed their catches; some never had any sent to them; and others +did brilliant things. A few had long innings, and compiled glorious +scores, but the majority "got out" pretty soon.</p> + +<p>He pulled from his pocket a "Caporal" cigarette, and placed it in his +mouth, partly to show every one around how cool this inferno had left +him, and partly to steady his nerves. But just as he was striking the +match, a violent desire to laugh assailed him. He suppressed this +tendency towards hysterics, but he shook so much that it was impossible +to light the cigarette, and in the end he threw it away in disgust.</p> + +<p>And so the day dragged on. They were shelled with varying ferocity all +the time. Once they attempted to launch an attack, but it failed, almost +before it had started. The enemy artillery observation seemed too acute, +the weight of his shells too heavy, and the wood in front too thick.</p> + +<p>About three o'clock in the afternoon the General must have decided that +the holding of the hill was too costly a business. He therefore ordered +it to be evacuated, and the troops to retire on the village of Poussey. +Every one, from the Colonel down, was privately relieved by this order, +for every one felt that, if they had stayed there, by the end of the +next day there would have been no regiment left.</p> + +<p>The behaviour of the men had been superb. They had entered into this new +phase of the war with that strange combination of recklessness and +reliability which had made our "contemptible little army" what it was. +Not a complaint had been uttered. They had joked all day—and there is +an especial relish to jokes that are made between the thunderclaps—but +they were worn out, not only by the terrors of that day, but by the +accumulated loss of sleep and lack of food.</p> + +<p>A further advance was impossible. The Germans had checked the onrush by +the weight of their artillery. The victory of the Marne was over. The +phase of the deadlock had begun.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h3> + +<h4>THE CELLARS OF POUSSEY</h4> + + +<p>The Subaltern was too dazed to realise the significance of the day's +fighting, but he brought his men back to the village without mishap, and +behind the shelter of its walls they lay down to sleep just as they +were.</p> + +<p>In a little time the whole Battalion was rallied in the village, and +fresh reinforcements were sent forward to hold a line nearer the +village.</p> + +<p>The night that followed was cold and windy. In spite of a fire that his +men lit in a little side street, and various sacks that they "lifted" +from barns, the cold caused extreme discomfort, and it was with a great +sigh of relief that at length dawn broke upon them.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern stumbled to his feet before it was fully light, shook the +miserable sacks from his feet, and set out to explore the village.</p> + +<p>Like most of its kind, it had only one central street, which was steep +and winding. Underfoot were the usual cobbles, and the walls had a queer +look of leaning inwards over the road with a protective air. He had not +gone many yards before he came upon the little village square. Half of +it was shut in by a huge, castle-like structure, which with its carved +stone fountain gave the place almost a medieval air.</p> + +<p>The gate in the wall was unlocked, and through the aperture he caught a +glimpse of a trim garden and a comfortable-looking house.</p> + +<p>"This," said the Subaltern to himself, "is just the sort of place that +the Captain would choose for his headquarters."</p> + +<p>He slipped into the garden and peeped through one of the windows. Sure +enough, there were the Captain, the Senior Subaltern and the Doctor. +They had already risen and were trying to boil a kettle on the ashes of +last night's fire. It was not an inviting scene, by any means, but he +pushed open the door, and started in the search for food.</p> + +<p>The room in which he found them was a typical French kitchen, with a +dirty grey ceiling, walls, and stone floor. The furniture consisted of a +table, a couple of forms, and a chair or two. Otherwise there was +absolutely no attempt at either comfort or adornment. Ransacking a dirty +cupboard, the Subaltern drew forth in triumph a promising-looking +bottle, and having pulled the cork, smelt at the contents with caution. +It contained a curious sort of liquor, apparently home made, which saved +their lives that morning. Then the Doctor, after many amusing efforts to +clean himself in a bucket, went off to the improvised hospital that had +been set up in the village.</p> + +<p>The early part of the morning passed peacefully enough; but the +bombardment was renewed at about seven o'clock, and was followed by a +hasty evacuation of the village to reinforce the front line. The +Captain's Company, however, and one other, were ordered to stand by in +reserve, but to be prepared to move at a moment's notice. The +bombardment rolled on as usual for about an hour. Then came a tremendous +crash, which made every wall and roof tremble, and gave warning that +something worse than ordinary had happened.</p> + +<p>Everybody rushed into the street, but there was no longer a square. One +of the "Jack Johnsons" had alighted in the centre of it. The first +glance at the scene disclosed the fact that the fountain had been blown +sky high, and the cobbles torn up like pebbles, but it was not until +afterwards that one realised that there had been men in that square. +None was left alive in it now. One poor fellow had been struck by a +piece of shell and had died before his head had crashed against the +ground. The colour of the dead face reminded the Subaltern hauntingly of +the grey walls of the kitchen. Fortunately, the eyes were closed, but +the horror of the thing—the shattered skull, the protruding, +blood-smeared brains, bit into the Subaltern's soul. He gazed at it for +a moment, spellbound, and then turned in towards the kitchen, feeling +broken and humiliated.</p> + +<p>"We must get them into better shelter than this," said the Captain. +"That might happen again."</p> + +<p>The owners of the house came out to meet them. The old man and his wife +seemed strangely unperturbed by the noise and the sights around them. +He was a fine old man, with a yellow skin, long, flowing beard, and a +bald head. He explained that he was the local Mayor, and there was more +natural dignity about him than many a Lord Mayor of a huge city. He told +them that underneath his house was a cellar large enough to hide the +whole Company, and led the Captain away to see it.</p> + +<p>In a few moments they returned.</p> + +<p>"Just the very place," said the Captain; "we'll get the Company down +there right away, before the next big one comes over."</p> + +<p>He led them down a flight of steps, opened a door, and stepped gingerly +into pitch darkness. When their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, it +was just possible to make out the dimensions of the place, and very +gradually the men filed in, and lay down wherever they could. By the +time the last man had pushed his way in, there was scarcely an +unoccupied foot of room in the whole cellar.</p> + +<p>After a time the talk died down, and sounds of slumber filled the +darkness. Probably the only men in the whole Company who did not spend +the rest of that day in sleep were the "look-out" men, one posted in the +road to intercept messages, and the other at the head of the steps to +give warning.</p> + +<p>As soon as it was dark they could leave the cellar with perfect +safety—a thing they were glad to do, for the atmosphere was not as +fresh as it might have been, and the place was very crowded. Only about +half of the men, however, availed themselves of the opportunity. The +others were too tired and just went on sleeping.</p> + +<p>Some time in the middle of the night they were awakened by the Mess +Sergeant, who had successfully arrived with rations. The only possible +way, it seemed, was to get supplies over the bridges under cover of +darkness, as the enemy had got their range to a yard. He left their +share of food, and then hurriedly left.</p> + +<p>"If I don't get well over by the morning, I don't get over at all," he +explained.</p> + +<p>The next day was in every way similar to the previous one. No order to +move was received, and sleep was the most popular occupation. Now and +then, in intervals between the artillery duels, they would dash up the +steps and air themselves as best as they could. In one of his rambles +the Subaltern alighted upon a peach tree, which was greatly appreciated. +When the familiar sounds began again, they would troop once more down +the steps and fall asleep in the cellar, until peace was restored.</p> + +<p>On one occasion, following his men after he had seen them all safely +down, a piece of high explosive shell-dust bounced from the wall, and +embedded itself in the skin of his temple.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he said, when he was safely in the cellar; "this is all very +well, but if a big one did happen to drop on this house above here, we +shouldn't stand the ghost of a chance. It would be better to be out in +the open. We might be buried by the falling bricks."</p> + +<p>Fate was kind. But once, on regaining the open, some one noticed that a +weathercock had been struck off one of the gables.</p> + +<p>"It just wanted to be twenty feet lower," said some one speculatively.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern enjoyed very much his short stay in Poussey. The old Mayor +and his wife were a charming couple, and as usual did everything in +their power to make their Allies comfortable. On the other hand, it must +be admitted that the British Officers, with their unfailing politeness +and good spirits, made no small impression on them. The Subaltern once +heard the old lady say to her husband—</p> + +<p>"Eh! Mon vieux, quelle différence! Ils sont si gentils, si polis ... et +les autres.... Ach! Les cochons!"</p> + +<p>"What an impertinence," he thought, "to compare us!"</p> + +<p>His coat was badly rent in the back, and once, while he was asleep, the +old lady took it, and mended it with thick red twine.</p> + +<p>Of course they had the inevitable sons or nephews at the front, and they +had received no news of them. One had to listen with great attention, +and an air of solicitude, and murmur some little consolations.</p> + +<p>One morning, the Subaltern forgets whether it was the first or second +day of their stay, the old man took him into his library. It was a long, +low room, fragrant with the smell of old books, and it looked out upon +the leafy orchard. All the volumes were beautifully bound and nearly +all were standard classics. He was surprised at the culture of this +little spot, tucked away in the intellectual desert of rural France, and +at the refinement of this man, who had been a farmer all his life. All +the while a great battle was being fought outside; one could not be sure +of life for a consecutive hour; at such a time it was amazing to be +fingering fine old books, in the quiet, sombre library, by the side of +an old man in a black velvet skullcap.</p> + +<p>Eventually the Subaltern picked out a volume by Ségur, not because he +wanted to read about war, but because he feared that the Voltaires, the +Rousseaux, and the Hugos would be too difficult for him. Ségur was easy: +one could skip whole phrases without losing his gist: one was not +worried by the words one did not know. He read of Napoleon's retreat on +Paris—in its time accounted the most scientific retreat in history. +Soissons! Montmirail! Why, they had almost passed into both these +places! How everything that had ever happened would shrink before +this—which was going on now, half a mile away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h3> + +<h4>THE FIRST TRENCHES</h4> + + +<p>Whether it was the second or third day of their stay in Poussey that the +march began again the Subaltern does not know. The only thing he +remembers is being awakened from a peaceful afternoon nap, hurrying +rather confusedly on parade, and marching off, out of the village. +Turning sharply to the left, the troops descended the hill, and at +length crossed the canal, which had evidently parted company with the +Aisne. All was quiet, and he was making his way drowsily along the dusty +road, when a whizz and a whistle brought him sharply to his senses. +There could be no mistake about it, the shell was coming right at them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, damn," he said; "we've been spotted."</p> + +<p>The shell burst short of them.</p> + +<p>There was a space of about two hundred yards that would obviously be +shell swept, and the road offered not the slightest cover. Two hundred +yards ahead there appeared to be a good stout bank, which would shield +them very effectually. The only thing to be done was to rush on as fast +as they could, and thus suffer as few casualties as possible.</p> + +<p>The men, however, did not quite realise the situation. By long training +and a great deal of actual experience they had learned that the best +thing to do when you are under fire is to tear for the nearest cover, +and, failing that, flop down on your faces where you stand, and take +your chance. As a general rule this proved sound enough, but in this +especial case it was obvious to the Officers that the longer they +delayed, the heavier would be the casualty list, a fact which the men +did not understand. The British soldier is a sportsman, and understands +the game as well as his Officer. He only wants to be led; and in battle, +scarcely that. Driving is an Art absolutely unknown in the British Army.</p> + +<p>In the stress of the tense moments that followed, the Subaltern owned to +himself that as a driver he was not much good. The German artillery had +got their range to a yard, and it was very trying to have to stand up in +the open and spend precious seconds in urging on men who ought to have +known better. He was strongly tempted to run for it, but a sense of duty +prevailed, and he stayed there dashing about in a futile effort to speed +matters up. He shouted, he shrieked, he swore, he has a dim recollection +of even kicking at his men in the effort to get on out of the terrible +danger zone. But perhaps to his overwrought nerves the delay seemed +longer than perhaps it really was, or perhaps force of numbers from +behind succeeded where he had failed; anyhow, he got his Platoon into +safety, and only sustained the loss of five or six men.</p> + +<p>His Platoon Sergeant behaved with an intrepid bravery that gave him a +moral right to the Victoria Cross. He stayed in the fire-swept area to +carry two wounded men into safety, and tended several others as they +lay. He received no recognition—but those who were near him will never +forget.</p> + +<p>The bank reached, safety was achieved for the moment, at any rate. They +pushed on for another half-mile or so, and were then halted under cover +of the bank. They had not long to wait before the purpose of the whole +manoeuvre was revealed to them. In their capacity of Local Reserve +they had been hurried to the point of the line where the next attack in +force was expected.</p> + +<p>The whole thing was ridiculous in its mechanical exactitude. In about +five minutes the artillery bombardment died down. Hard upon its heels +arose a most lively rifle-fire, which showed clearly enough that the +preparatory bombardment was over, and the real attack about to begin. +Higher and higher rose the note struck by the rifle-fire, as the contest +thickened. Never had they heard such intensity of concentration before. +Now up, now down, it rocked on in one sweeping, continuous note for +nearly half-an-hour. Then it died down, almost to silence. The attack +had failed, and the Local Reserve would not be needed.</p> + +<p>It does not require much imagination to picture the state of mind of the +men in reserve—cowering behind the bank. They could almost see the +whole thing—the grey dots crawling over the crest of the hill, the +shots that announced their detection, the uprising of them in a solid +mass, sweeping towards the trenches; the withering fire, reaping in its +victims like a scythe. They were wondering every second of the time, +"How far have the Germans got? Have they pushed us out?" But no order +came to advance to re-capture the trenches, so they presumed all was +well.</p> + +<p>As the crossing of the open ground had been so rough, they were allowed +to postpone their return journey until it was dark. But even then they +were not safe.</p> + +<p>The Colonel led the Battalion a clear two hundred yards away from the +road. The darkness was so intense that they could not be seen, but in +the silence of the night they were sure to be heard, and, on hearing +them, the Germans would certainly plaster the road with shells in the +hope of "getting" them as they returned.</p> + +<p>The Colonel was right. The German observation-posts must have heard +them, for the old, familiar whizz came whistling through the darkness. +The first shells seemed incredibly long in the air. One's heart was in +one's mouth, as one listened to hear if they were going "to fall short," +or "go over." Then the crash came, in front, on the road, and they knew +that the Colonel had saved them once more. Even as it was, their Company +Quartermaster-Sergeant was hit in the foot.</p> + +<p>The shelling in the darkness must have affected the nerves of the +leading Company. They struck out at a tremendous pace. The Subaltern +was dropping further and further behind. He could not keep up, and the +prospect of losing touch in the darkness was extremely serious.</p> + +<p>At last the canal bridge was reached and the bombardment ceased, but +instead of being allowed to turn in towards Poussey, they were told to +relieve the other two companies in the trenches.</p> + +<p>They found the line, and "took over" the trenches without mishap. Of +course, in those days trenches were not built as they were later. To +begin with, the men had no tools, except their "entrenching implements," +so naturally the work could not be very elaborate. Moreover, the thought +that such works would be wanted for longer than a day or two never +entered their heads. Each man dug a shelter for himself, according to +his skill, ingenuity and perseverance. There was little or no attempt at +digging a long, consecutive trench. A series of holes had been dug, that +was all.</p> + +<p>The monotony of the night was broken by the arrival and distribution of +rations. An hour or so after this had been accomplished the east began +to grow grey, and they were soon able to take stock of their +surroundings.</p> + +<p>The trenches, or rather holes, were dug on the side of the road. Behind +them the ground sloped straight down to the canal. They could not +actually see the enemy trenches; and there was no attempt made by either +side to "snipe."</p> + +<p>The first day of trench life—if such it could be called—was not a +very trying experience. There was nothing to do except a little +improvement of the shelters. Their only duty was to "wait and see." It +was not cold, and they had their rations. The Subaltern dug, and slept, +and ate, and then dug again, and thus the day passed. Indeed, he even +began to write a long letter home in his notebook, but he lost the pages +almost as soon as they were written.</p> + +<p>They were shelled twice during the day, but all one had to do was to lie +comfortably in one's "funk hole" and wait for the "hate" to die down. +After many experiences in the open, without a particle of cover, being +shelled in deep holes had few terrors.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said to himself, "if they get a direct hit on this hole +I'm done for, but otherwise I'm pretty safe."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, in spite of the holes, several men were carried away.</p> + +<p>The greatest inconvenience to the place was the stench of decaying +horses. About twenty yards down the hill the horses belonging to a whole +Battery had been struck by a shell. About a dozen of them lay dead where +they had been standing. The story had been told of how one of the +Subalterns of the other Company had left his hole, rifle in hand, in the +middle of a bombardment, to put the wounded animals out of their agony. +He had succeeded in shooting them all, but on his way back had been +struck in the foot with a piece of shell casing. It was an heroic, +kindly act, typical of the brave man who did it. But it seemed a +pity....</p> + +<p>It was, of course, impossible to bury the dead animals, and to drag them +further away was out of the question in the daylight. There was nothing +else to do but to sit tight and endure in silence.</p> + +<p>Their second night in the trenches was merely a repetition of the first. +After a lively sunset fusillade had died down, the Germans lay quiet +until dawn. The German artillery were so regular in their habits that it +almost seemed as though they must be working by a printed programme, +which directed that at six o'clock precisely in the morning, every +battery was to fire off a certain number of rounds, absolutely +regardless of whatever targets they might have been offered, and, having +fired the requisite number of rounds, the battery was to lie quiet +until, say, eleven o'clock. Of course, the thing was ludicrous, but it +seemed to be the only explanation.</p> + +<p>A mail was included in the rations. He himself drew blank, but the +Senior Subaltern was sent a box of chocolates. The sight of them, on +Active Service, was a farce. They were not the usual sort of chocolates +that one saw—"plain," useful, nourishing chocolates. They were frankly +fancy chocolates, creams with sugared tops, filled with nuts, marzipan, +or jellies, inseparable from a drawing-room, and therefore ten times +more acceptable and delightful.</p> + +<p>He got not a single letter from home, not from any one. Not that he +minded much, at that time. Home, parents—any softness of any +description—would have seemed unreal.</p> + +<p>The happiness of the following day was very much impaired by rain, which +fell intermittently throughout the whole day. After the first shower he +got up and began to look about him for some sort of protection. Rather +than have nothing, he picked up a waterproof sheet that had belonged to +a wounded man. It was covered with blood, but the next shower soon +washed all trace of it off, and it kept him dry.</p> + +<p>The next night, just after rations had been distributed, an order came +to march off. Haste, it seemed, was imperative. And so, leaving behind +as few things as possible, he paraded his men, without knowing where +they were to go, and saw them set off behind the front Platoon. Just as +he was about to set off himself, he slipped down the side of one of the +holes, and as he fled, his sword slid from its scabbard, and vanished. +He knew the chances of returning to that particular spot were five to +one against, and he was determined to "hang on" to his sword, come what +might, so he let his Platoon go on, while he groped about in the +darkness for it. It seemed incredible that a sword could hide itself so +completely. He kicked about in the pitch-dark for what seemed to be +endless minutes before his foot knocked against it. He "pushed it home" +hurriedly, and started off in pursuit of the men.</p> + +<p>But the darkness had swallowed them up. He followed the road right into +Poussey, but still there was no sign of them. No troops, he learned, had +passed through since the previous morning. Evidently they had not gone +that way. The only alternative was the "awkward" road over the canal +bridge which led into the next village on the line—Souvir.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h3> + +<h4>IN RESERVE AT SOUVIR</h4> + + +<p>He hurried on, for morning would break in half-an-hour, and he did not +wish to be caught in that unwholesome hundred yards the other side of +the canal bridge. He overtook his men sooner than he expected, and the +open space was passed without any resistance.</p> + +<p>"They're probably expecting a big attack at dawn, and they've brought us +up in reserve again," some one said.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, the attack took place, but, like its predecessor, it +failed, and they naturally expected to be sent back to the trenches at +Poussey. In this, however, they were disappointed. Dawn having broken, +it was apparently thought to be needlessly imprudent to make the +Battalion run the gauntlet once again. So they were allowed to stay +where they were, with the caution that they were to be ready to move +within five minutes of the Colonel's receipt of the order. It may sound +a long time, but only a smart and efficient Battalion can do it. The +Adjutant has to open and acquaint the C.O. of the order. He has to rap +out his own orders. Sleeping men have to be roused, equipment thrown +on, arms taken up. The men have to "fall in" in their right sections; +have to be numbered, have to form fours. If there is any muddle +whatever, a Battalion cannot move off in five minutes.</p> + +<p>They slept propped up against the bank for some hours; then they were +moved further up the road into the little village of Souvir. It appeared +that their new rôle was to act as Local Reserve, and that they could +amuse themselves how they liked as long as they were prepared "to move +off at fifteen minutes' notice."</p> + +<p>The men broke into two big barns and made themselves tolerably +comfortable. They lit little fires in the road and began to cook their +breakfasts. The Officers of the Company billeted themselves on the hovel +nearest the barns and set about the same object.</p> + +<p>"I think," mused the Senior Subaltern, "that it would be an excellent +idea if some of us went on a foraging expedition. I should not be at all +surprised if we did not have to stop here for weeks. And there may be +one or two things to be picked up—before the others."</p> + +<p>So two of them went off on a tour of inspection. Noticing bee-hives +outside the house of the village priest, they went in and bought two +large jars of liquid honey. An estaminet yielded a couple of bottles of +Médoc, and a pâtisserie, most unexpectedly, some bread.</p> + +<p>Having successfully settled their business, there was time to look +around. Souvir was a bigger village than Poussey, and seemed to be +teeming with troops, who looked as if they had been used to the place +for years, and were likely to remain in it longer. The first object of +interest was the church, which had been turned into a hospital for +Germans, many of whom were sitting about on benches in the stone-flagged +courtyard. The two Officers went in to have a closer look at them. The +majority were so greyish pale, their hair such unlovely stubble, their +temples so shrunken that the Subaltern pitied them in their morose +dejection and slow-witted taciturnity.</p> + +<p>"I don't think we'd better go into the church," he said. "They'd +probably throw us out."</p> + +<p>They passed through an archway in a huge medieval wall into the +graveyard, and thence, by a sudden and complete transformation in time, +colour and atmosphere, into a most delightful garden of magnificent +proportions, with smooth lawns and sweeping drives. The château itself +was scarcely in keeping with this stateliness. The impression it gave +one came as an anti-climax. The Subaltern was beginning to develop a +fine taste in French châteaux, but somehow this one did not rank with +the others, although his brain reeled at the thought of the cost of it +all. Probably that is why it failed as a work of art and beauty: it made +one wonder how much it must have cost.</p> + +<p>A passer-by told them that it belonged to a certain woman whose name had +been on everybody's lips, just before the war, and the information +stimulated their interest. They wandered around, past silent fountains +and over velvet lawns, stone terraces and gravel drives. On their way +back they passed one of the big bay windows on the ground floor of the +château. It was open, and they caught the faint but distinctive aroma of +disinfectant. The erstwhile billiard-room had obviously been converted +into a hospital dressing-room. The place was deserted, and they turned +away without the intuition entering into either of their heads that they +themselves would before long be carried into that very room.</p> + +<p>Souvir was apparently their headquarters for the time being, for if they +moved away by day or night, they always marched back into it. And as, +day by day, they saw the same sights and did the same things, the +passage of time did not leave such exact impressions on his mind as the +changing sights and actions of the moving battles had done.</p> + +<p>Compared with the days that had gone before they were divinely +comfortable. Unless there was an alarm, they could sleep as long as they +liked. There was not sufficient accommodation in the little hut, so the +Officers commandeered a little shed at the side of it. Here there was +plenty of straw, and for several mornings they lay dozing until eight or +nine o'clock.</p> + +<p>The men were quite happy in their barns, and would not begin to stir +before seven o'clock. Then they would hear in their sleep confused +sounds of tramping feet and shouts in the road outside.</p> + +<p>The voice of the Quartermaster-Sergeant, distributing the rations, was +always the most insistent.</p> + +<p>"'<i>Ere</i>, who's 'ad that there tea?"</p> + +<p>"Fourty-two Smith took it down the street, Cooler Sawgint."</p> + +<p>(When there is more than one man of the same name in a Battalion, the +last two figures of his regimental number, are, as it were, hyphenated +on to it. Brown's number was, say, 1965, so to prevent mistakes he was +always '65 Brown, to distinguish him from all the other Browns.)</p> + +<p>"Where's the Orderly Cor'pril of No. 5 Platoon?"</p> + +<p>"Comin', Cooler Sawgint!"</p> + +<p>Then another voice raised in pained expostulation—</p> + +<p>"'<i>Ere</i>, look at '<i>im</i>—a hackin' up the bacon. Who d'ju think's comin' +after you?"</p> + +<p>"Go and see why there ain't no rum, Watkins!"</p> + +<p>"There ain't '<i>arf</i> enough sugar for all them!"</p> + +<p>"'And over my firewood, will ye, or I'll ...!"</p> + +<p>And so on, and so forth. It was the tune to which they finally awoke +every morning.</p> + +<p>When it was impossible to maintain the pretence of being asleep any +longer, they would get up and shake themselves. They had passed the +stage of wanting to take clothes off. Their uprising in the morning was +as easy and simple as a dog's. Then, aided, perhaps, by one of their +servants, they would set about getting their breakfast ready in the +front room. The Subaltern discovered what a tremendous amount of trouble +is entailed in the preparation of even the simplest meals. Tables to be +moved, kettles to be filled, bread cut, jam and bully beef tins opened! +But each would have his own particular job, and they would soon be +seated round the dirty table, drinking their tea out of cups, or their +own mugs, and munching biscuits or bread.</p> + +<p>Now that they were getting their rations each night with the regularity +of clockwork, they were beginning to appreciate properly the excellence +of their fare. "Seeing," as the Senior Subaltern would say, "that we are +on Active Service, I think the rations is an extraordinarily well +managed show."</p> + +<p>The quality was good, and there was plenty of it. Personally, the +Subaltern never succeeded in getting on very good terms with the "bully +beef." He decided that it was "a bit too strong" for him; but the others +devoured large quantities, and seemed all the better for it.</p> + +<p>The jam, at that time, and in that particular sector of the line, was +good and, moreover, varied. The Subaltern does not ever remember +suffering from the now notorious "plum and apple." There was even +marmalade.</p> + +<p>He openly delighted in the biscuits, and would go about his work all day +munching them. The bacon, too, as some one said, was "better than what +we have in the Mess, sometimes." None of them posed as connoisseurs of +rum, but a Sergeant, who looked as if he knew what he was talking about, +praised it heartily; and, taken in hot tea, it banished all sorts of +cares....</p> + +<p>Tea (without rum) and bacon, to be followed by ration bread and +marmalade (if possible) was the staple fare at breakfast. They would sit +around the fire and smoke—there was a tobacco allowance included in the +rations. The Subaltern, however, had lost his pipe, and attempts at +cigarette rolling were not particularly successful.</p> + +<p>Every other day there used to be a mail, and with it, generally, papers +from home. This was the first definite news they had had from "home" +since leaving in mid-August. There was an enthralling interest in seeing +how the people at home "were taking things."</p> + +<p>To be perfectly candid, before the war, the Army had placed very little +reliance upon the patriotism or integrity of the country. The Army was a +thing apart—detached from the swirl of conflicting ideas, and the +eddies of political strife. The Army was, so to speak, on the bank, and +it looked with stern disapproval at the river sweeping so swiftly by. It +neither understood the forces that were hurrying the waters along, nor +did it realise the goal that they were striving to reach. Perhaps it did +not take the trouble, perhaps it could not.</p> + +<p>Then, when the war clouds began to blacken the horizon, the Army, having +so little sympathy with the vast and complex civilisation which it was +to defend, felt convinced that the national feelings and political sense +of the nation would be slumbering so soundly that no call of honour +could awaken it to the realisation of either its duty or its danger. But +the horse which all the expert trainers had dismissed as a +"non-starter" for the next great race, suddenly gathered his haunches +under him, and shot out on the long track to victory. The Army, with the +rest of the world, realised that, after all, the heart of the nation was +in the right place. Nevertheless, the tremendous wave of patriotism that +had swept so splendidly over Britain caused, at first, not a little +suspense.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! he's asking for a million men," gasped the Subaltern.</p> + +<p>"Well, if he doesn't get them, this Company will go over and fight for +Germany," said the Captain. "The country isn't worth fighting for if it +can't raise a million men."</p> + +<p>"The Government seem to be doing jolly well," some one volunteered.</p> + +<p>"And so they darn well ought," said the Senior Subaltern. "But you wait +and see. If something wonderful does not happen in about six months' +time, all sorts of fools will be up on their hind legs, shouting out how +the show, as they would do it, should be run."</p> + +<p>As events turned out, the Senior Subaltern was not far wrong.</p> + +<p>At this time, too, the country was thrilled with its first feeling of +pride in the Army since Waterloo. The dramatic rush of events—Mons, the +Retreat, the dramatic rally when all seemed lost, and the splendid +victory of the Marne, the continued advance, the deadlock on the +Aisne—people were gasping at the magnificence of the success. They +realised that the swift and sudden victory which Germany had counted on +had been frustrated, and that owing to the French and the "contemptible +little Army" eventual victory had been assured.</p> + +<p>Every one who had the ear of the "public" was raining praise upon this +contemptible little Army, and the contemptible little Army was +surprised; but although they classified the eloquent speeches and +dashing articles under the sweeping phrase of "hot air," these things +pleased them a good deal, although they never have admitted it. The +country, it appeared, had learned to appreciate them—a little late, it +is true; still, in the volatile imagination of the public, they had +arrived. They were quietly pleased, and awoke to the realisation of what +fine fellows they were.</p> + +<p>"No more of the 'expensive, idle loafer' talk," said some one.</p> + +<p>It was the vindication of the British Army.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h3> + +<h4>TO STRAIGHTEN THE LINE</h4> + + +<p>Later in the morning there would probably be an inspection of arms. They +had always to be very careful that the rifles were in proper working +order. A few stiff bolts at a critical moment might make all the +difference.</p> + +<p>The next function would be dinner. This generally consisted of bully +beef made into a sort of stew, and some potatoes, stolen from a field +near by. It must be confessed that the stews were not a great success, +and the Subaltern conceived a violent dislike to them. The sudden change +from "the move" to "reserve" perhaps upset his system. He confessed to +not "feeling very fit." The others, however, all seemed to have +insatiable appetites for food and sleep. Instead of marching twenty +miles a day on one or two meals, they now had their rations regularly +and got very little exercise. They slept as if sleeping sickness was +laying its hold upon them, and when not sleeping they were eating.</p> + +<p>The wine store had not yet been exhausted in the village, and very often +they had a bottle with their suppers. The honey in the two jars seemed +inexhaustible—indeed, everybody grew tired of it in time; and in the +end the remnants were presented to another Company. The pâtisserie +continued to yield new bread, and they ate such quantities of it, still +hot from the oven, that many of them got "livers." They were notoriously +the first Company when it came to "looking after themselves." "Which," +as the Senior Subaltern said, "shows sense."</p> + +<p>Once, when they had just finished their midday meal, the usual order "to +stand to arms" came through, and they were hurried along the road that +ran parallel to the river, towards Soissons. The march was longer than +usual, and they were just beginning to entertain hopes that the deadlock +had been broken and that they were once more on the advance, when an +abrupt halt was called, and they were ordered to throw themselves +hastily behind the bank along the roadside.</p> + +<p>They could see nothing, neither friend nor foe. The only sound of firing +was miles and miles down the line, in the direction of Poussey. The +Subaltern's Platoon happened to be the second in the leading Company. +Already there was movement in front, and, crawling forward to the end of +the line, he climbed up the bank to take stock of the position. To the +north was a little copse, the intervening ground a vegetable field. +Further off, to the east, there was a big hill, crowned with a +dense-looking forest which, as far as he could see, was deserted.</p> + +<p>The Colonel, who was not to be deceived by a new appearance of quietude, +had somehow made his way to the little copse, and was examining the +hill with his glasses. The Adjutant, who had followed him, presently +rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Bring ... your ... men ... over ... carefully ... in ... extended ... +order!"</p> + +<p>The words floated across on the wind.</p> + +<p>Feeling that he would like to see his men all safely across before he +left any of them, the Subaltern motioned to the Sergeant to lead them, +and they set off in a long, dotted and irregular line towards the +thicket.</p> + +<p>"Hurry ... them ... up. Hurry!" shouted the Adjutant.</p> + +<p>And just as the last man had left the bank, and he had started himself, +he realised what the Adjutant meant.</p> + +<p>"Phwhizz ... phwizz ... phwizz."</p> + +<p>Like malignant wasps the bullets hummed past him. There was a regularity +in the discharge and a similarity in the aim that left him no chance to +doubt that a machine-gun had been turned on them.</p> + +<p>"I was a bit of a fool not to have gone first," he said to himself.</p> + +<p>But the bullets hummed harmlessly by his head and shoulders, and the +thought that struck him most forcibly, as he plunged through the +cabbages, was the impossibility of realising the consequences if any one +of them had been a few inches nearer his head. It momentarily occurred +to him to lie down and crawl through the cabbages, trusting to luck that +the machine-gun would lose him; but, of course, the only thing was to +run for it, and so he ploughed along. Whether the journey occupied more +than a minute or not he is unable to say, but it seemed an incredible +lapse of time before he reached the copse—and safety.</p> + +<p>"We shall have some artillery turned on to us in a minute," said the +Colonel; "we had better get on with the operation."</p> + +<p>They debouched from the copse in open order, and advanced in the usual +lines of platoons, to attack the hill.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern loosened his sword in his scabbard, so that when the time +came he could draw it more easily. He had already picked up a rifle from +some unfortunate.</p> + +<p>There seemed to be a certainty of a hand-to-hand fight. He did not feel +at all eager to kill; on the other hand, he scarcely felt afraid. He +just felt as if he grudged the passing of the yards under his feet which +separated him from the edge of the wood. The idea of being "stuck" +himself never occurred to him.</p> + +<p>The bullets flew about rather thickly for the first few minutes, but no +harm was done, and then the enemy's resistance seemed to die down. There +was complete silence for several minutes as our men plodded steadily on. +Then, away on the right, the Colonel's whistle sounded, and a halt was +called.</p> + +<p>The enemy had taken fright and had retired, machine-guns and all, before +their advance.</p> + +<p>This little affair, although too small to figure in the communiqués at +home, was a great personal triumph for the Colonel. The enemy, having +broken through the line and pushed his way almost to the banks of the +river, had been driven back and the line straightened out, without, as +far as the Subaltern could see, any loss whatever.</p> + +<p>They were not allowed to follow up this easy success, and consequently +the enemy was still left in possession of a small salient. The +Subaltern's own Company was then sent to prolong the right of the +Battalion, and to get in touch with the "people" on the right.</p> + +<p>This was eventually done; the "people" proving to be a regiment of +cavalry, employed as infantry.</p> + +<p>In this particular part of the line the situation was, to say the least +of it, a little muddled. The cavalry did not seem to be altogether at +home in their new rôle. Their trenches seemed too small and detached. +The front was covered with copses, which were continually changing +hands. The whole line seemed to be dangerously weak, and the facilities +for communication too precarious. The Subaltern regarded the whole +affair as a sort of nightmare, and prayed fervently that they would not +be made to stop permanently in that quarter.</p> + +<p>It appeared that they had been told off to hold in check the side of the +salient. They took up their position along the edge of a wood, three or +four yards in it.</p> + +<p>"We'll be shelled in about twenty minutes, so dig all you know," said +the Captain.</p> + +<p>How they dug can be easily understood. They had only their entrenching +implements, but in ten minutes most of them had very fair "lying down" +cover. Ten minutes was all they were allowed. There was no artillery +fire by the end of that time, but the bullets began to whizz past, or +flatten themselves in the tree trunks. It was rather hard to see +precisely what was happening. Black dots emerged from the wood, and +quickly flitted back again. The enemy seemed rather half-hearted.</p> + +<p>When the attack, if attack it could really be called, had subsided, a +Sergeant got up from somewhere down the line, and continued work on his +hole. There was a whizz overhead, and he dropped back abruptly. The +Subaltern thought that he had realised the danger and had naturally +bobbed down for safety, but word was passed up "to keep down, as +Sergeant Simkins had been shot dead—through the heart." He never +uttered a sound, and must have met his death instantly.</p> + +<p>Work was continued, but with the utmost caution. Meanwhile the afternoon +was drawing rapidly to a close, and the prospect of holding such a +position appalled the Subaltern when he thought of it. The Sergeant had +been killed by enfilade fire. It was quite obvious that their line was +thrown out, as it were, between the two general lines. Consequently they +were enfiladed by the enemy, threatened very seriously on their front, +on account of the proximity of the copses, and if forced to retire there +was absolute certainty of being mown down by their own cavalry. The +Senior Subaltern succeeded in clearing one copse, after firing a few +shots and making a bold advance, but had not sufficient men to retain +it. Then, just as darkness was closing down on the hopeless tangle, a +message was passed up to "close on the road."</p> + +<p>The relief at this order was impossible to describe. Their spirits rose +meteorically. They scarcely succeeded in hiding their joy from the +cavalry who were to be left in their trenches, and when they set off +towards Poussey there was a wonderful swing in their step.</p> + +<p>In an hour's time they were back in their old billets, and the Officers +opened a bottle of wine, on the strength, as some one said, of getting +out of an "extraordinarily awkward position."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Captain, with a half-full tumbler in his hand, "here's +hoping that our wonderful luck keeps in."</p> + +<p>They drank in silence, and soon after adjourned to the outhouse.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h3> + +<h4>THE JAWS OF DEATH</h4> + + +<p>The next morning they learned that their turn of duty as Local Reserve +was over, and that they were "to take over" a line of trenches that +evening. The Captain went alone to be shown round in the morning.</p> + +<p>They wrote letters all morning, had an early dinner, and retired early +to the outhouse to put in a few hours sound sleep in anticipation of +several "trying" nights.</p> + +<p>At about five o'clock they awoke, and found that the Captain had +returned in the meantime. He explained the position to them as they +drank their tea.</p> + +<p>"The trenches are just in the edge of a wood," he said. "It is +extraordinarily thick. It would be absolutely impossible to retire. The +field of fire is perfect. The skyline is only two hundred yards away, +and there wouldn't be an inch of cover for them, except a few dead +cows."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think dead cows were bullet-proof, should you?" asked the +Senior Subaltern.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing you will have to watch. There are any amount of spies +about, and they let the Germans know, somehow, when the reliefs are +coming up the road, and then the road gets searched. They don't know +exactly where you are, you see. They have the road on the map, and +plaster it on the off chance. If you see a shell burst on the road, the +only thing to do is to get clear of it. Give it about forty yards' +grace, and you will be safe enough."</p> + +<p>Soon after they set out along a road that they had never travelled +before, leading directly up the hill in front of Souvir. About half-way +up, they almost stumbled into the holes that the German shells had eaten +deep into the road. Evidently, however, the spies in Souvir had not +succeeded in informing the enemy of their approach. There was perfect +quietness.</p> + +<p>It was a stiff hill to climb, and they halted alongside of a battery of +artillery to take breath. There was a deep cave in the rock, which the +gunners had turned into a very comfortable "dug-out." The Subaltern +envied them very sincerely. He felt he would have given anything to have +been a "gunner." They had such comfortable dug-outs—horses to +ride—carriages to keep coats and things in. Above all, there could not +be that terrible strain of waiting—waiting.</p> + +<p>The road curled sharply round the rock precipice, and plunged into a +thick forest. A guide had met them, and absolute silence was ordered. +They had breasted the rise, and were nearing the trenches. The road had +ceased abruptly, and the paths that they had laboured along were +nothing but narrow canals of mud. Here and there a few broken trees and +mangled branches showed where a shell had burst.</p> + +<p>Hands were held up silently in front. A halt was ordered for a few +minutes, while the leading Platoon moved along into its allotted +trenches. They had arrived.</p> + +<p>Nothing warned the Subaltern, when at length he was shown the line for +his own Platoon, that this night was to be any different from any of the +other nights he had spent in the face of the enemy.</p> + +<p>It was not, strictly speaking, a line of trenches at all. As usual, each +man had dug a hole by himself, and each man was his own architect. Very +few holes had been connected by a rough sort of trench at the back. The +Captain had described the topography of the situation very exactly. The +holes were dug on the borders of the forest, but were concealed from +enemy artillery observation by the trees. The field of fire was +absolutely open. It stretched to the top of the hill, which formed their +horizon, a distance of rather less than two hundred yards. It was smooth +grass, and it struck the Subaltern as being exceptionally green. A few +dead cows, in the usual grotesque attitudes of animals in death, were +scattered over the green grass.</p> + +<p>He selected his hole, and then began to take careful stock of his +surroundings. The fact that he could see no sign of the opposite +trenches perhaps lulled him into a sense of false security. Anyway, +after having disposed of his haversack, and the sacks he had brought up +with him, he got up from his hole, and began to walk along behind the +holes. On the extreme left he found his Sergeant.</p> + +<p>"Well, this looks a pretty safe position," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I've just had a shot at a man's head that I thought I saw out +there. I can't say whether or no I shot him. He disappeared quick +enough. I should put the range at two hundred and fifty, sir."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what is on our left, here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir. I haven't had time to look."</p> + +<p>"I think I had better go and find out for myself."</p> + +<p>He set off, pursuing his way through the thick undergrowth and trees. It +was longer than he thought. But all was still quiet, so the thought of +being "spotted" in the open did not occur to him.</p> + +<p>He found the edge of the next trench. It was thrown forward in front of +the wood. After making the usual arrangements that are vaguely called +"establishing touch," he turned back out of the shelter of the parapet, +over the dangerous ground.</p> + +<p>Twilight was deepening every second. He did not run; and he only +hurried, because he wanted to get really established in his "funk hole" +before it grew too dark to see what he was doing.</p> + +<p>Then, almost simultaneously, the enemy and the regiment in the trenches +opened fire. He stopped short, and turned round to watch. He could see +nothing but thin red spurts of fire in the grey twilight. He turned +quickly on his heel, meaning to reach his own men before the attack +should develop on their front, where, as yet, all was quiet.</p> + +<p>He almost reached the end of his trenches....</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There was a crisp crash, a blinding light flew up like a circular sunset +around him, a dreadful twinge, as of hair and skin and skull being +jerked from his head with the strength of a giant! For the millionth +part of a second he was at a loss to understand what had happened. Then, +with sickening horror, he realised that he had been shot in the head.</p> + +<p>It is impossible to convey with what speed impressions rushed through +his mind.</p> + +<p>The flaring horizon tilted suddenly from horizontal nearly to +perpendicular. His head rushed through half a world of black, +fury-space. His toes and finger-tips were infinite miles behind. A sound +of rushing waters filled his ears, like deathly waterfalls stamping the +life from his bursting head. Black blurred figures, nebulous and +meaningless, loomed up before his face.</p> + +<p>"Hit in the head—you're done for."</p> + +<p>"Hit in the head—you're done for."</p> + +<p>The inadequate thought chased through his brain.</p> + +<p>"What a pity, what a shame; you might have been so happy, later on."</p> + +<p>"What a pity, what a shame; you might have been so happy later on."</p> + +<p>He was conscious that it was a foolishly futile thought at a supreme +moment.</p> + +<p>His life seemed pouring out of his head, his vitality was running down +as a motor engine, suddenly cut off. He felt death descending upon him +with appalling swiftness. Where would the world go to? And what next?</p> + +<p>He was afraid.</p> + +<p>Then, with a tremendous effort he turned his thoughts on God, and waited +for death.</p> + +<p>He was swimming in that black fury-sea that was neither wet nor +clinging. He was made of lead in a universe that weighed nothing. He was +sinking, sinking. In vain he struggled. The dark, dry waters closed over +him....</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Still the waterfalls pounded in his ears, and still the dry waves reeled +before his eyes, and under his head a pool, sticky and warm.</p> + +<p>What was that? This time surely something tangible and real moving +towards him. With a supreme effort he tried to jerk his body into +moving. His left leg moved. It moved wearily; but still it moved. His +left arm too.</p> + +<p>What was this?</p> + +<p>The right arm and leg were gone, gone.</p> + +<p>The rest of him was flabbergasted at the horror of the discovery.</p> + +<p>No, not gone! They were there. But they would not move. He could not +even <i>try</i> to move them. He could not so much as <i>feel</i> them.</p> + +<p>Then he awoke to the horror of the thing.</p> + +<p>His right side was dead!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The shape was really alive. It resolved itself into a man crawling in +the darkness to his rescue.</p> + +<p>"You need not bother about me, I'm done for. Get back into the trench."</p> + +<p>He had a feeling that though he meant his lips to frame these words, he +was in reality saying something quite different. It was an exhausting +effort to speak.</p> + +<p>The form asked him questions in a fierce whisper. He had not the +strength to understand or answer.</p> + +<p>Very slowly and cautiously he was dragged over the few yards of ground +that separated him from the first hole.</p> + +<p>It was awful. His brain conceived the thought: "For God's sake let me +die in peace." But his lips were all twisted, and refused to move at the +bidding of his brain. He could only groan.</p> + +<p>With wonderful gentleness the man placed his Officer's broken head over +the hole, and with the help of another man lowered him into it.</p> + +<p>His next thought was: "Well, they can only hit my feet, now!" There had +not been room in the hole for all of him, so his feet had been left +protruding out of it. The thought fanned some smouldering ember of +humour in him. A moment later he discovered with a thrill—</p> + +<p>"I'm going to live, I'm going to live. I <i>will</i> live!"</p> + +<p>The discovery, and the resolution which followed, by no means excited +him. He arrived quite quietly at the conclusion. And set his mind to +await the development of the next event.</p> + +<p>The man who had dragged him in now tied the "first field dressing" over +his head, and fastened the strings beneath his chin. Interminable ages +passed slowly by, and yet the Doctor did not come. He regarded the +arrival of the Doctor, like the coming of the Last Day, as the end of +all difficulties, and the solution of many mysteries.</p> + +<p>Needless to say he was disappointed. The Doctor could naturally do +little or nothing for him. With the aid of a match or two he "had a +look," replaced the dressing by some bandages, and moved him about a +little to ease his position. To carry him away that night, said the +Doctor, was absolutely impossible. And with that he went away.</p> + +<p>The Senior Subaltern, who had come up with him, stayed a little longer, +and earned his eternal gratitude. He made further efforts to straighten +him out, assured him that the effects of the shock would wear off by +morning, and that he would once more be able to move. He collected a few +extra blankets and coats and spread them over him, for he was growing +terribly cold. Then with cheery words on his lips he left him.</p> + +<p>Left alone in the silence of the night, the Subaltern felt the horror of +the situation take hold of him. He was alone with his pain and his +paralysis. There was no hope of alleviation until morning. What time was +it then? he asked himself. Seven, at the latest. That meant eight long +hours of agony, before anything <i>happened</i>! That is what the wounded +love and long for—something to happen—something to distract the +attention from the slow, insistent pain—something to liven drooping +spirits, and raise falling hopes.</p> + +<p>Slowly and surely he began to take stock of the situation. First of all +came his head. The pain of the wound was an ache, a dull ache that +sharpened into shooting pains if he moved. Still, he told himself that +it might be worse. There was much worse pain in the world. It could not +be called unbearable or excruciating.</p> + +<p>His spine seemed in some way twisted. It ached with an insistence and +annoyance only second to the wound. All his most determined efforts to +wriggle it straight failed lamentably. Indeed, he almost fancied that +they made matters worse.</p> + +<p>As for the paralysed limbs, theirs was a negative trouble. He did not +know where his right hand was. He had to grope about with his left hand +under coats to find it. And when found, it was as if he had grasped +somebody else's hand. The situation was weird, and in an uncanny way it +amused and pleased him to take hold of the inert fingers. They were so +soft and cold. The hand of a dead man, heavy, heavy—impossible to +describe the dragging, inert weight of it.</p> + +<p>But what frightened him more than anything was his face. One side was +drawn up, and was as impossible to move as the arm. The lower jaw seemed +clamped to the upper, and it, too, ached. A horrible fear crept into his +head.</p> + +<p>"Tetanus!"</p> + +<p>He recalled tales of the terrible end of those who were marked down by +this terrible disease. How they died in awful agony, the spine bent +backwards like a bridge!</p> + +<p>In spite of the coats, the cold seemed to eat into his very heart.</p> + +<p>He started the night bravely enough, and fought against his troubles +until his nerve collapsed hopelessly. The night was too long: it was too +much to bear. He groaned aloud in his agony, and discovered that it was +an immense relief.</p> + +<p>The men near him began to open fire. If it were really an attack, it was +soon beaten down, and he began to shriek at them for wasting precious +ammunition that they might want when it was too late. He used words that +he never even knew that he knew. Great bursts of anger, he found, +distracted his attention from the pain, if only for a few moments. To +this end he worked himself into such a transport that the bleeding +re-commenced, and he was forced to cease, exhausted. In another hour +his nervous downfall was completed. He began to cry.</p> + +<p>Each second of the interminable night dragged slowly by, as if it +gloated over his pain. In the end it became too much for him and he +fainted away, peacefully and thankfully.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h3> + +<h4>THE FIELD HOSPITAL</h4> + + +<p>When he came to, it was daylight, and two Stretcher Bearers were tugging +at his feet. The weight of him seemed terrific, but eventually they +hoisted him on to the stretcher.</p> + +<p>Some of his men gathered round, and told him that "they'd soon put him +straight at the hospital."</p> + +<p>He smiled, rather wryly, but still he smiled, and mumbled: "Well, good +luck, No. 5 Platoon."</p> + +<p>And so they carried him away, feet foremost.</p> + +<p>They plunged along the muddy paths. He was convulsed with fear that they +would overturn him. And the jolting sent red-hot pains through his head, +and twisted his back terribly.</p> + +<p>A Company came straggling up the path, led by no other than the Major, +who had been his Company Commander at the beginning of the war.</p> + +<p>"Well, young feller, how are you? You'll be all right in a day or two."</p> + +<p>Reply was impossible for him, and the Major hurried on.</p> + +<p>The men who followed seemed shy of him. They looked at him covertly, and +then turned their eyes quickly away, as if he were some horrible +object. It annoyed him not a little.</p> + +<p>That journey was the most painful thing that happened to him. But each +sickening jolt had the compensation of landing him a yard nearer the +hospital, and the hope of easing his pains buoyed him up somehow.</p> + +<p>When they arrived at the Gunner's Cave, the Stretcher Bearers put him +resolutely down, and intimated that it was not "up to them" to take him +any further. The Ambulance, they said, ought to be there to "take over" +from them. But there was no sign of an Ambulance, and meantime he was +literally thirsting for the attentions and comforts of a hospital. His +natural reserve broke completely down. He begged, and entreated, and +prayed them to take him on.</p> + +<p>After a little hesitation, they set out once more with a little +excusable cursing and grumbling.</p> + +<p>It was about seven o'clock when at last they laid him down in the hall +of the hospital, and departed with unfeigned gladness.</p> + +<p>Two Hospital Orderlies carried him along a passage and into the +identical billiard-room that he had seen from the garden.</p> + +<p>A Doctor undid the soiled bandages with quick, strong fingers, and bent +down to examine the wound with an expression of concentrated ferocity on +his face. An Orderly brought a bowl, and the Doctor began to wash the +place.</p> + +<p>It was a painful business, but nothing to be compared to the pain +produced by the "prober." They even tried to shave the hair from the +affected spot. He bore it as long as he could. But it was too much. His +left side shook and trembled. It was too terrible to begin to describe.</p> + +<p>"It's no good," he said, "it's more than you can expect any one to put +up with. You'll have to stop it."</p> + +<p>So they tied his head up once more, and he was carried upstairs into a +bedroom. They lifted him on to the bed, managed at length to divest him +of his jacket, turned some clothes over him, and left him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In an hour a raging fever had taken hold of him.</p> + +<p>Only intermittently, during the next three or four days, did he so much +as touch the world of realities. The only improvement was his face, +which had to a great extent relaxed. Otherwise the pain and the +paralysis were the same, and all the time the fever raged within him.</p> + +<p>Somehow, when he awoke from his horrible dreams it was always dark. And +the remarkable thing was that the same nightmares seemed to haunt him +with persistent regularity. Always he lay down upon a hillside—nebulous +black, and furry. Always too, he had been "left," and the enemy was +swooping quickly down upon him. He would wake up to find himself once +more inert upon the bed, would curse himself for a fool, and vow that +never again would he allow his mind to drift towards that terrible +thought again.</p> + +<p>J.O. double F.R.E? What was it? A Name? Whose? When and Why? He would +catch himself worrying about this many times. He would awake with a +start, and realise that the solution was a perfectly easy matter. Then +he would straightway fall asleep, to worry once again.</p> + +<p>There was a big vase on a table near the bedside. He took an implacable +dislike to it, and longed to shatter it into atoms. "Horrible +pretentious affair," he would mutter.</p> + +<p>When he awoke from his fever, he would always make frantic efforts to +hang on to consciousness. To this end he would always call the Orderly, +ask the time, demand water or Bovril—anything to keep him a little +longer in touch with the world.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he would see bleared faces looking down upon him out of the +dizzy greyness. He remembers being told that "the Colonel" was coming to +see him. He never knew whether it was his own Colonel or some A.D.M.S.</p> + +<p>The thought did indeed come to him that he was going mad. But he had not +the power to worry about the discovery, and insensibility would claim +him once more before he could realise the terrors of insanity.</p> + +<p>All this time he lay on his back. It was impossible to move him, but he +longed to lie comfortably on his side, as he had always been accustomed +to do. He was sure he could sleep then—ordinary sound sleep, free from +worry, phantomless, refreshing. How he longed for it!</p> + +<p>One evening a Doctor came to him and told him that they were going to +move him away. The news was by no means a relief. He did not feel equal +to the exertion of being carried about. He wanted to be allowed just to +lie quietly where he was, and live or die, just as Fate decreed. For +anything more, he had no energy; and the prospect of another journey +appalled him.</p> + +<p>In the dead of night four silent Orderlies heaved him on to a stretcher, +carried him downstairs, and out of the château. His stretcher was then +slid into an ambulance, and he awaited impatiently the filling of the +others.</p> + +<p>Another stretcher was slipped in by his side. It was too dark to see the +man upon it, but he was apparently suffering from the last stages of +thirst. He had been shot through the roof of the mouth and the throat, +and could not swallow. He was dying of thirst and hunger. He begged and +entreated them for water. He pleaded with them, tried to bribe them, +tried to order them, tried to bully them. It was pitiable to hear a +strong man brought so low. And if they gave him a drop of water in a +teaspoon, he would cough and choke to such a degree that it was obvious +that too frequent doses would be the end of him. He would gurgle, and +moan, and pine. It was awful.</p> + +<p>They were journeying to the Clearing Hospital. The road, bad at the best +of times, was now pitted with shell holes, and was truly abominable. "Is +a country," he said to himself, "that will not allow its wounded +pneumatic tyres to ride upon, worth fighting for?"</p> + +<p>They jolted on through the remaining part of the night. At dawn they +were disembarked, and put to rest in a little farm-house, where they +gave them soup and milk. But there were only mattresses thrown on a +stone floor, and the pain in his spine was so acute that he almost +forgot about his head.</p> + +<p>His companion on the journey was placed in the same room. At the +beginning of the night he had pitied the poor fellow immensely. But his +prayers and entreaties were too pitiful to bear. What he must have been +suffering! It added an extra weight to his own burden. Thank God, he had +never been very thirsty!</p> + +<p>"Just a little water! Just a drop. I won't swallow it. I won't! I swear +before Heaven I won't! Just a teaspoonful! Please!... Oh! I'm dying of +thirst.... Only a drop.... I won't swallow it this time.... There's five +pounds in my pocket." He would gurgle and groan pitifully for a moment. +Then in a voice, astoundingly loud, but thick with blood, he would +shout, quaveringly: "Orderly, blast you, you ——, give me some water, or +I'll—"</p> + +<p>Sad to say, there came a time when the Subaltern could bear it no +longer. His own troubles and the entreaties of the other unnerved him.</p> + +<p>"Give him water! Chuck it at him! In a bucket!" he shouted in a frenzy. +"Let the poor wretch die happy, anyway."</p> + +<p>The Corporal in charge came over to him.</p> + +<p>"You might get me some milk, Corporal," he said.</p> + +<p>"For you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no! You ——, to water the plants with, of course!"</p> + +<p>"I was only asking, sir."</p> + +<p>"All right, Corp'ral. Can't you see I'm a little upset this morning?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>They carried him on to the Clearing Hospital in a motor Ambulance, and +deposited him in the hall of a little estaminet that had been turned +into an Officer's Hospital.</p> + +<p>A Doctor and Sister were conversing in low tones outside a closed door.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid there are all the symptoms of enteric," she was saying.</p> + +<p>Neither of them took the slightest notice of him. But he was getting +used to being carried about and never spoken to, like a piece of +furniture. And the Sister entranced him. The Clearing Hospitals were the +nearest places to the fighting-line that women could aspire to. He had +not seen an English lady since leaving England. And her waist pleased +him. Such few French peasant women had any waists at all. And her voice +was higher-pitched; more intellectual, if less poetic.</p> + +<p>When the two of them had quite finished discussing their "case" she +called for an Orderly, and without so much as looking at him, said, +"Put that one in there," indicating another door. Another Orderly was +fetched, and the painful business of hauling him off the stretcher on to +a bed began once more.</p> + +<p>The novelty of his surroundings occupied his mind. The bed was soft, and +his spine ceased to ache. A feeling almost akin to contentment stole +over him, as they left him in the clean, cool bed. His companion without +the throat had been put in another room. There was only one more bed in +this one, and the occupant was sleeping peacefully.</p> + +<p>About four o'clock in the afternoon he heard the faint ring of spurred +boots in the hall.</p> + +<p>"This is an Officer's Ward, sir," a voice was saying.</p> + +<p>The Field-Marshal Commanding-in-Chief, followed by another Officer only +less distinguished than himself, came slowly in.</p> + +<p>"Poor boys!" he said. "How are you getting on?"</p> + +<p>"All right, thank you, sir," he answered, smiling with pride.</p> + +<p>"Here's the latest news from England," added the great man, as he +dropped a paper on the bed. The Subaltern's left hand almost shot out of +bed to grasp it. He looked up just in time to see them disappearing +through the doorway.</p> + +<p>He tried to read the paper, but the effort brought the very worst pains +back again to his head, so he concealed it under the coverlet of the +bed. He was determined to keep that paper. It was already growing dark, +when the young Doctor of the Ward came to his bedside, smiling.</p> + +<p>"We are going to operate on you at eight o'clock," he said. "It will be +all right. We'll soon put you straight."</p> + +<p>"Straight?" he echoed. "Yes, I dare say you will!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h3> + +<h4>OPERATION</h4> + + +<p>The news came as a distinct shock to him. He had not even entertained +the possibility of undergoing an operation. Years ago he had had his +adenoids removed, and the memory was by no means pleasant. All along he +had told himself he would recover in time—that was all he wanted. To +have an operation was, he thought, to run another and unnecessary risk.</p> + +<p>Later in the evening the Sister came in with a large phial, and injected +the contents into his arm.</p> + +<p>"Morphine," she explained.</p> + +<p>In a moment or so he felt that he did not care what happened. The +morphine made him gloriously drunk.</p> + +<p>"Sister," he confided. "I'm drunk. It isn't fair to go and kill a fellow +when he's drunk, you know. It isn't playing the game. You ought to +suspend hostilities till I'm sober!"</p> + +<p>He felt ridiculously proud of himself for these inanities.</p> + +<p>"I know you," he strutted with laughter. "After it's all over, you'll +write home to my people and say, 'The operation was successfully +performed, but the patient died soon afterwards!'"</p> + +<p>By this time they had stripped him of all but his shirt.</p> + +<p>"Where's my bier? Where's my bier? Is a gentleman to be kept waiting all +night for his bier?" he exclaimed, with mock impatience.</p> + +<p>They lifted him on to a stretcher, and began to push it through the open +window into the street.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Ophelia!" he cried to the Sister, as his head disappeared.</p> + +<p>He was too drunk to feel afraid.</p> + +<p>They carried him into the room that had been turned into a theatre. He +found that the same young Doctor was to operate on him. He was alarmed +at his youth.</p> + +<p>"I like a fellow to have white hair if he's to operate on me," he said +to himself.</p> + +<p>Another Doctor began to adjust the ether apparatus.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he mumbled, "how do you know my heart's strong enough for +this sort of thing?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool; it's your only chance."</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right. Have it your own way, only don't say I did not warn +you!" he replied.</p> + +<p>"Rather a character," said one of the Doctors, as he placed the sodden +wool firmly over his nose and mouth.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the Sister; "he said just now that the operation would be +unsuccessful and that he would die!"</p> + +<p>Drat the woman, she had spoiled his last joke!</p> + +<p>He strove to explain. But the fumes were clutching at his senses, and he +could not. The white walls of the room swam and bounced before his eyes. +Rivers were pouring into his ears. Everything was grey and vibrating. He +made a frantic effort to turn his thoughts towards God and home, "in +case." But he failed to think of anything.</p> + +<p>With a jerk his senses left him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When he recovered his senses it was still dark, but he realised that he +was in another room.</p> + +<p>And in that room he stayed for nearly a fortnight before the Doctor +would allow him to proceed to the Base.</p> + +<p>As regards the paralysis, there was little or no improvement, although +he thought at one time that he was succeeding in wagging his big toe. +The Doctor would come in and say with mock petulance, "Surely you can +move that finger now. Pull yourself together! Make an effort!"</p> + +<p>He used to make tremendous efforts. Even his left hand used to twitch +with the effort of trying to move the right.</p> + +<p>"No, not your left; the right," the Doctor would say.</p> + +<p>Then he would laugh, and go away saying that it would be all right in +time.</p> + +<p>His chief difficulty, not counting, of course, the perpetual headache, +was his inability to sleep. The nights seemed interminable, and he +dreaded them. The days were only less so because of the excitement of +meals and being talked to by the Sister. They became fast friends, and +she would tell him all about her work, her troubles with the Doctors and +with refractory Orderlies. They used to laugh together over the short +temper of a patient below, whom she used to call "Old Fiddlesticks," and +who seemed to be the most impatient of patients. Then she would wander +on about her home, how she nursed half the year, and spent the remainder +with her married sister in Fondborough Manor.</p> + +<p>One day one of the Orderlies shaved him, and every one was surprised "to +see how much better he looked!"</p> + +<p>They used to give him aspirin, and though it generally failed to bring +sleep, his pains would be relieved almost instantly, and his spirits +would rise to tremendous heights. The only time he was able to sleep +seemed to be between six and ten. He was nearly always awakened by the +lusty voice of a peasant entering the room beneath. He complained to the +Orderly, with the result that the next night the lusty voice was +suddenly silenced.</p> + +<p>"Shut yer mouth, or I'll knock yer blinking face in!" And Lusty Voice +understood.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At last the Doctor gave his consent for removal to the Base Hospital, +and the Subaltern found himself being once more hauled on to a stretcher +and heaved into the Ambulance.</p> + +<p>They dragged him out at the station, and he saw the long train, each +carriage brilliantly lit. The sight seemed so civilised that it cheered +him not a little.</p> + +<p>The carriage was an ordinary "wagon-lit" converted with considerable +ingenuity into a Hospital Train. He shared his compartment with a young +Guardee, "a sitting case."</p> + +<p>He had no sooner settled down than a voice was heard calling for +"Second-Lieutenant Hackett."</p> + +<p>"Here," replied the Guardee, without any enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>A dapper Staff Officer, so tall that he had to stoop to enter the +compartment, drew a paper from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"You?" he asked. "Well, Hackett, this is a great evening in your life, +and I congratulate you." He shook the Guardee's left hand. "You have +been given the D.S.O.," he added hurriedly, for the train had already +begun to move. With that he disappeared.</p> + +<p>It was not until the following morning that the Sister came in to dress +his wound.</p> + +<p>"What strong teeth you've got, boy!" she said.</p> + +<p>Nobody knew better than he did that his teeth were large and tended to +protrude, but it is always annoying to have one's defects admired.</p> + +<p>The Orderly was, in his way, an artist. He was light-handed, quick, +deferential, and soothing—a prince among Orderlies. He produced +wonderful tit-bits—amongst other things tinned chicken, sardines, +chocolate, and, for the Guardee, stout! Three minutes after the Sister +had strictly forbidden him to read, the Orderly smuggled into his hand +the Paris <i>Daily Mail</i> of the day before. Von Moltke had been dismissed. +"The first of the great failures," he said to himself. But the Sister +was right; it was too painful to read.</p> + +<p>"What are we stopping here for?" the Guardee asked once.</p> + +<p>"To unload the dead, sir," replied the Orderly, with serious suavity.</p> + +<p>The journey took over two days. They touched at Versailles and Le Mans, +the Advanced Base, swept slowly down the broad valley of the Loire, past +the busy town of Nantes, followed by the side of the estuary, oddly +mixed up with the shipping, and eventually came to rest in the town of +St. Nazaire, at that time the Base of the British Army.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h3> + +<h4>ST. NAZAIRE</h4> + + +<p>His next home was a comfortable little bed in a white-painted cubicle of +a boys' school that had been turned into a Base Hospital. When at length +he found himself at rest in his new bed, he sighed with contentment. +Everything was so quiet, and clean, and orderly. After the dirty +estaminet, and the feverish hurry of the Clearing Hospital, this was +indeed Peace. They gave him real broth to drink and real chicken to eat. +And that night, as he sank almost for the first time into real sleep, he +felt that heaven had been achieved.</p> + +<p>Life began to creep slowly into his paralysed limbs. With infinite +labour he could force his first finger and thumb to meet and separate +again. His toes wagged freely. The only fly in the ointment was that the +"stuff they did their dressings with" was of a fiercer nature and hurt +more than the previous ones. Also, the dressings became more frequent.</p> + +<p>He made great friends with the Doctor and the Sisters. One of them used +to talk of an old Major in his Regiment with a tenderness that led him +to suspect a veiled romance. He was now growing better daily, and was +assailed with the insatiable hunger that follows fever. No sooner had he +bolted down one meal than he counted the hours to the next.</p> + +<p>One day they left a meal-tray on his chest, and apparently forgot it. At +the end of half-an-hour his patience abandoned him. He deliberately +reached out and threw everything upon the floor. The Sister came running +up to see what was the matter. He maintained a haughty silence. She +picked up the aluminium plates and cups. Her starched dress crinkled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you naughty boy!" she said, smiling entrancingly.</p> + +<p>There was nothing for it: he burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards it occurred to him that, as all he had got to do was to +lie in bed and wait, this could be done just as easily in a London +hospital.</p> + +<p>"As soon as you are well enough to travel, you shall go to England. Your +case can be better treated there," the Doctor promised him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h3> + +<h4>SOMEWHERE IN MAYFAIR</h4> + + +<p>The speed of the train astounded him. Such tremendous things had +happened to him since he had last travelled in an express train. He +loved every English field as it passed, every hedge and tree.</p> + +<p>He was at peace with the world. The only blemish was that the awful war +was still dragging on its awful course—still exacting its awful toll. +He was rushing Londonwards—towards his "people" and everything he +wanted. The pains had gone from his head, except for occasional +headaches. And, wonder of wonders, he could move his whole leg and arm! +Contentment stole over him. He was on perfectly good terms with himself +and the world in general. Life, after all, was delightful.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The voyage had been wonderful. Not for one moment of the forty-eight +hours that it took to reach Southampton did the wavelets upset the +equilibrium of the vessel. Only the faintest vibration showed him that +she was moving at all. The food had been good and plentiful, the +attendance matchless. All things seemed to be "working together for +good."</p> + +<p>While engrossed in this reverie, he awoke to the fact that well-known +landscapes were rolling past his window.</p> + +<p>Tidshot! There was the familiar landmark—the tree-crested hill and the +church. The station flashed by, and then the well-known training areas.</p> + +<p>"Just as if I were going up to town for the week-end!" he told himself.</p> + +<p>The familiar suburbs whizzed past. Clapham Junction, Vauxhall, the +grinding of brakes, and the train was gliding quietly along Waterloo +platform.</p> + +<p>An Officer boarded the train, and, in spite of a great deal of +discussion and requests, succeeded in thrusting scraps of paper into +every one's hand.</p> + +<p>"The Something Hospital, Chester Square," some one read.</p> + +<p>"What? Oh, I thought you said 'The Empire Hospital, Leicester Square!'" +yelled half-a-dozen wits almost simultaneously.</p> + +<p>He was carried out on his stretcher, slid into a St. John Ambulance, and +driven to the address on the piece of paper, which was "not a hundred +miles from Berkeley Square," as the Gossip writers put it.</p> + +<p>The Ambulance Stretcher Bearers carried him into the hall of what was +evidently a private house "turned" into a hospital. A great many ladies +were standing about, all in Red Cross uniform. A man was there, too. +Curiously enough, he was wearing just the coat and hat that his father +would wear. Could it be possible? He turned round; lo and behold, it +<i>was</i> his father!</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Father!" he said.</p> + +<p>The man came up.</p> + +<p>Both of them seemed at a loss for words. It was neither emotion nor +sentimentality; it was just the lack of something to say. Taking +advantage of the pause, the crowd bore down upon him, and by reason of +their superior numbers drove him away, offering promises about "the day +after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>They carried the Subaltern upstairs, and placed him in a room where two +other Officers who had arrived on the same boat were already +established.</p> + +<p>The Hospital was "run" by the Hon. Mrs. Blank, who was placing her +entire house at the disposal of the War Office. She did everything +herself: the feeding, equipping, providing the staff. The expense must +have been huge. She worked night and day as general manageress of the +establishment. There ought to be some special honour and knighthood for +such women on this earth, and a special heaven in the next. The +Subaltern used to feel positively ashamed of himself when he thought of +the money, kindness and care that she was lavishing upon them.</p> + +<p>The whole Hospital was a glorious, pulsating, human organisation. What +was wanted was done, not what was "laid down" in some schedule. Indeed, +their wishes were gratified before they had time to form in the mind. It +was a fairyland, and of course the fairies were the nurses. The +Subaltern and his two companions held a conference on their respective +merits.</p> + +<p>"I like the little pale brown one; she's like a mouse."</p> + +<p>"There's no comparison. Ours is the star turn."</p> + +<p>"Which <i>is</i> ours?"</p> + +<p>"The one who dashes about?"</p> + +<p>"The one who upset the dinner-trays?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Wasn't it funny? I thought I should have died!"</p> + +<p>The Doctors, this time civilians, used to come to him twice a day. They +were quiet, reserved men, positively glowing with efficiency.</p> + +<p>They dressed his wound, tested the reflex actions of his nerves, gazed +through holes in bright mirrors at his eyes, and made him watch +perpendicular pencils moving horizontally across his line of vision.</p> + +<p>But life was racing back into his limbs. Hourly his strength was +returning. He no longer lay staring listlessly in the bottom of the bed. +He liked now to work himself up, to lose nothing of what was going on +around, to share in the talk, and, until the next headache came, to +<i>live</i>.</p> + +<p>He wallowed in the joy of reaching harbour.</p> + +<p>Such rapid progress did he make that they began, in a few days, to treat +him as a rational human being. They allowed him meat, and once, owing +to a mistake on the part of the young Hurrier, a whisky-and-soda. They +allowed him to smoke a restricted number of cigarettes, and to read as +often as he liked. But aspirin they barred.</p> + +<p>He had not many friends in London, so during visiting hours he was left +in comparative peace.</p> + +<p>One morning his mother came. As the door opened and she hurried into the +room with her quick, bird-like grace, he felt that she was a stranger to +him. Somehow their old intimacy seemed dissolved, and would have, piece +by piece, to be built up again. Her round, appealing eyes of palest +brown stirred him as no other eyes—even her own—had ever done before.</p> + +<p>Her slim shoulders delighted him.</p> + +<p>"Waddles!" he said; "you're priceless!"</p> + +<p>He loved to call her "Waddles."</p> + +<p>They asked the Doctor when he would be likely to be able to go home.</p> + +<p>"As soon as the wound is covered over," he replied, "there is no reason +why he should not go home. Providing he could get massage and proper +treatment."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The gas darkly illuminated the sombre red of the walls and glimmered on +the polished mahogany. The fire, too, glowed red. Outside, the wind was +sighing softly in the pine-trees.</p> + +<p>The bed seemed huge and its capacity for comfort enormous. The cool +sheets seemed to caress his legs. His whole nervous system was +delightfully wearied with the achievement of reaching home.</p> + +<p>The local Doctor had promised that he could treat him perfectly well, +and he had been allowed to leave the Hospital.</p> + +<p>He could hear the paws of his spaniel padding softly on the carpet in +the landing. He could hear the voices of his father and sister in the +hall....</p> + +<p>Peace after the storm! The harbour reached at last.</p> + +<p>"It seems to be impossible to believe it's true," he murmured to +himself.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite ready?" asked his mother.</p> + +<p>She was standing beneath the gas-bracket, one hand raised to the handle. +The light silhouetted her impertinent little nose and glimmered in her +dusky hair.</p> + +<p>Then with a jerk she turned out the light.</p> + + +<p>THE END</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Printed in Great Britain by Richard Clay & Sons, Limited brunswick +st., stamford st., s.e., and bungay, suffolk.</span></p> + +<p style="text-align: left;"> +<small>[Transcriber's Note: There are numerous typographical errors and +spelling inconsistencies in the original text which have not been +corrected, e.g., čtiez for étiez, Grand Marmier for Marnier, +Castelnau/Castlenau, Villiers-Cotterets/Villiers Cotterets, fourty +for forty, etc.]</small> +</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of "Contemptible", by "Casualty" + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "CONTEMPTIBLE" *** + +***** This file should be named 18103-h.htm or 18103-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/0/18103/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Graeme Mackreth, Bill Tozier +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + |