In the Field (1914-1915) Part 5

I made a sign which was quickly understood. We all turned and galloped off towards the little depression we had emerged from just before. The bullets accompanied us with their hateful hissing, which made us duck our heads instinctively. But inwardly I rejoiced at their eagerness to lay us low, for in their hurry they aimed badly.

We had almost reached our shelter when I suddenly saw to the right of me "Ramier," Lemaitre's horse, fall like a log. As I was trying to stop my mare, who showed an immoderate desire to put herself out of danger, I saw both horse and rider struggling for a moment on the ground, forming a confused mixture of hoofs in the air and waving arms. Then "Ramier" got up and set off alone, neighing sadly, and with a limping trot that did not look very promising.

But Lemaitre was already on his legs, putting his crushed shako straight on his head. A bit stunned, he seemed to collect his ideas for an instant, and then I saw his good-natured ruddy face turned towards me. It lit up with a broad grin.

"Any damage, old fellow?" I asked.

"Nothing broken, sir."

"Hurry up, then."

And there was Lemaitre, striding along with his short legs and heavy boots, jumping ditches and banks with a nimbleness of which I declare I should not have thought him capable. It is curious to note the agility the report of a rifle volley lends to the legs of a dismounted trooper. Lemaitre came in to the shelter in the valley as soon as I did; and almost at the same time Finet, the sapper, brought in his old road-companion "Ramier," which he had been able to catch. It was painful to see the poor animal; his lameness had already become more marked. He could only get along with great difficulty, and his eyes showed he was in pain.

I glanced hurriedly at the spot where the bullet had struck him. The small hole could hardly be seen against the brown skin, just at the point of the left b.u.t.tock.

"Just wait here for us; I shall be back in a moment."

I wanted to see if to the east of the village I could note anything interesting, and I turned round towards my other troopers, whose horses were panting behind us. I was horrified to see Corporal Madelaine's face streaming with blood.

"It is nothing, sir ...; it pa.s.sed in front of my nose."

He wiped his face with the back of his hand. It had indeed been grazed by a bullet. One half-inch more, and the good fellow's nose would have been carried off. Fortunately the skin was hardly broken. Madelaine went on:

"It's nothing; ... but my mare...."

He had dismounted, and with a look of distress showed me his horse's blood-stained thigh. "Attraction" was the name of his pretty and delicate little grey mare, which he loved and cared for pa.s.sionately.

A bullet had pierced her thigh right through, and the blood had flowed down her leg. I calmed him by saying, "Come, come; it will be nothing.

Go on foot behind that wood, and get quietly under cover with Lemaitre. I will soon come and join you."

And I went off with Vercherin, Finet, and Wattrelot. I tried to get round to the right of Courgivault. But now that the first shots had been fired we were not allowed to come nearer. As soon as we appeared a violent fusillade burst from the outskirts of the village, which forced us to beat a rapid retreat. There was no longer any doubt about it; Courgivault was occupied, and occupied in strength.

Under the shelter of a bank I quickly dismounted, and Wattrelot took my horse's bridle. Whilst I knelt on one knee and on the other wrote my report for the Colonel, Vercherin and Finet, at an interval of 100 yards, kept a good look-out on the ridge for the enemy's movements. I handed my message to Wattrelot:

"Take this to the Colonel, and quickly. I will wait here for the brigade."

I then rode slowly to the corner of the wood, where Madelaine and Lemaitre were posted, whilst Wattrelot went off at a trot across the stubble. But a sad sight was awaiting me.

Lemaitre was standing in great grief over poor "Ramier," lying inert on the ground and struggling feebly with death. His eyes were already dull and his legs convulsed. Every now and then he shuddered violently.

I looked at Lemaitre, who felt as if he were losing his best friend.

And, indeed, is not our horse our best friend when we are campaigning--the friend that serves us well to the very last, that saves us time and again from death, and carries us until he can carry us no longer? I dismounted and threw the reins to Lemaitre:

"Don't grieve, my good fellow; it is a fine end for your 'Ramier.' He might, like so many others, have died worn out with work or suffering under some hedgerow. He has a soldier's death. All we can do is to cut short his sufferings and send him quickly to rejoin his many good comrades in the paradise of n.o.ble animals. For they have their paradise, I am sure."

But Lemaitre hardly seemed convinced. He shook his head sadly, and said:

"Oh, _mon Lieutenant_! I shall never be able to replace him. Such a good animal! such a fine creature! He jumped so well.... And his coat was always so beautiful; he was so sleek and so easy to keep.... No, I shall never find another like him."

"Oh! yes, you will."

However, I must confess my hand trembled as I drew my revolver. One horse the less in a troop is somewhat the same as one child the less in a family. And, besides, it means one trooper unmounted and the loss of a sword in battle. Lemaitre was right. "Ramier" was a good old servant, one of the kind that never goes lame, can feed on anything or on nothing, and never hurts anybody. It was hard to put an end to him; but since he was done for....

I put the muzzle of my revolver into his ear. I did not wish him to feel the cold metal; but his whole body shuddered, and his eye, lighting up for a moment, seemed to reproach me. Paff! A short, sharp report, and "Ramier" quivered for a moment. Then his sufferings ceased, and his stiffening carcase added one more to the many that strewed the country.

Whilst Lemaitre slung his heavy package on his shoulders and went off to return to the regiment with Corporal Madelaine, who was leading "Attraction," I went back to my observation post, not far from Finet and Vercherin. Silence and gloom still hung over Courgivault.

Suddenly, behind me, coming out of the wood, I saw a cavalry troop in extended order, riding in our direction. They were _Cha.s.seurs d'Afrique_. I recognised them by the large numbers of white horses, which made light patches upon the dark green of the thicket, and almost at the same moment a dull report resounded in the distance. A curious humming noise was heard above our heads, and a sh.e.l.l fell and burst at the foot of the stacks in the possession of the Prussian infantry. It came from one of our batteries of 75-millimetre guns, which was already getting the range of Courgivault.

My message had reached the Colonel. The battle of the Marne had begun.

Under a superbly clear sky, lit up by myriads of stars, the brigade, in a high state of delight, crossed the battlefield on returning to camp. Above our heads the last sh.e.l.ls sent by the enemy were bursting in bouquets of fire. We paid no attention to them. Meeting some battalions of infantry on their way to reinforce the line, we were asked for news, and shouted: "Courgivault, Montceau ... taken, lost, then retaken with the bayonet by the brave infantry of the M.

Division. Enemy's regiments annihilated by our artillery, which has done magnificently...."

Little by little the firing died away along the whole line. Fires, started by the sh.e.l.ls, lit up the battlefield on every side, like torches set ablaze for our glory. All hearts were filled with joy. It hovered over the blood-stained country, from which arose a kind of intoxication that took possession of our souls.

How splendid is the evening of a first victory!

IV. THE JAULGONNE AFFAIR

On September 9, at about eight o'clock in the evening, our advanced scouts entered Montigny-les-Conde at the moment when the last dragoons of the Prussian Guard were leaving it at full speed. Our pursuit was stopped by the night, which was very dark. Large threatening clouds were moving across the sky, making it impossible to see ten paces ahead. Whilst the captains were hastily posting guards all round the village, whilst the lieutenants were erecting barricades at all the outlets and setting sentries over them, the quartermasters had all the barns and stables thrown open. With the help of the inhabitants they portioned out, as well as they could, the insufficient accommodation among the men and the horses of the squadrons. In each troop camp fires were lighted under shelter of the walls so that the enemy should not see them.

What a dinner we had that evening! It was in a large room with a low open roof supported by small beams. The walls were smoke-blackened and dirty. On a chest placed near the door I can see still a big pile of ration loaves, thrown together anyhow; and leaning over the hearth of the large fireplace, lit up by the wood fire, was an unknown man who was stirring something in a pot. Round the large table a score of hungry and jaded but merry officers were fraternally sharing some pieces of meat which the man took out of the pot.

The Captain and I ate out of the same plate and drank out of the same metal cup, for crockery was scarce. The poor woman of the house ran round the table, consumed by her eagerness to make everybody comfortable. And in the farthest corner, away from the light, a very old peasant, with a dazed look and haggard eyes, was watching the unexpected scene. The company heartily cheered Captain C. for his cleverness in finding and bringing to light, from some nook or other, a large pitcher of rough wine.

For three days we had been pursuing and fighting the German army, and we were tired out; but we had not felt it until the evening on stopping to give our poor horses a little rest. Before the last mouthful had been swallowed several of us were already snoring with their heads on their arms upon the table.

The rest were talking about the situation. The enemy was retreating rapidly on the Marne. He must have crossed it now, leaving as cover for his retreat the division of the Cavalry of the Guard which our brigade had been fighting unceasingly ever since the battle of September 6. Would they have time to blow up all the bridges behind them? Should we be obliged to wait until our sappers had built new ones before we could resume our pursuit?

We were particularly anxious about two fine officers that our Colonel had just sent out that night on a reconnaissance--F., of the _Cha.s.seurs d'Afrique_, and my old friend O., of our squadron. We wondered anxiously whether they would be able to perform their task--to get at all costs as far as the Marne, and let us know by dawn whether the river could be crossed either at Mont Saint Pere, Jaulgonne, Pa.s.sy-sur-Marne, or Dormans. Nothing could have been more hazardous than these expeditions, made on a dark night across a district still occupied by the enemy.

The night was short. Before day dawned the horses were saddled and the men ready to mount. And as soon as the first rays of morning filtered through, my squadron, which had been told off as advance guard of the brigade, rapidly descended the steep slopes which commanded the small town of Conde. A.'s troop led. My business was to reconnoitre the eastern part of the town with mine, whilst F., with his troop, was to see to the western quarters.

With sabres drawn, our Cha.s.seurs distributed themselves briskly, by squads, through the streets of the old city. The horses' hoofs resounded cheerily on the paved streets between the old grey houses.

The inhabitants ventured out upon their doorsteps, in spite of the early hour, with some hesitation at first, but glad indeed when they saw our light-blue uniforms; they cheered, crying: "They are gone!...

they are gone!" But some old folk replied more calmly to my questions: "_Monsieur l'Officier_, have a care. They were here an hour ago with a large number of horses and guns. There was even a general, with his whole staff, lodged at the great house up there.... We would not swear that some of them are not there still."

I collected my troop, and then went quickly to the chateau which stood at the northern entrance of Conde. It was rather a fine building, but I had not time to notice its architectural style. Haste was necessary, for the brigade behind me was due to arrive. As far as I remember, the chateau formed a harmonious whole, and the different parts of it showed up cheerfully against the dark foliage of the park, which was still glittering after the night's rain. The building was in the form of a horseshoe, and in the centre there was a kind of courtyard bordered by two rows of orange trees in tubs.

I at once posted two guards, one on the road to provide against any surprise and the other at the park entrance to prevent egress, in case any fugitive should attempt to pa.s.s. Then, with the rest of my men, I rode through the large gilded iron gates at a trot. In the avenue which led to the house two men were standing motionless. One of them, dressed in black and clean-shaven, appeared to be some old servant of the family, the other must have been one of the gardeners. Their pale faces and red eyes showed that they had had little sleep that night.

"Well, my friend," said I to one of them, "is there anybody left at your place?"