In the Field (1914-1915) | Page 3

lost, bewildered in the midst of this
entanglement of lines which seemed inextricable. They were asking
each other questions, swearing, laughing, protesting, and then they got
into a train and were promptly hauled out and sent to another. But, with
all this, there was no disorder, no lack of discipline. Everywhere the
same admirable composure reigned that I had already noticed at the
station of my little garrison town.
With Wattrelot's help, I tidied myself up for a visit to the military
authorities of the station. After many difficulties, and after passing
through the hands of a number of sentries and orderlies on duty, I came
into the presence of a kindly captain, to whom I stated my case: "These
are my marching orders, Captain; I am to join the ---- Light Cavalry.
Do you know where it is just now?"
The captain raised his hands to Heaven with a look of despair: "How
am I to know where any regiment is now? You can't expect it. All I can
do for you is to couple your truck on to the commissariat train of your
army corps. It will take you as far as the terminus, and there you must
see what you can do."
I went back to my horses. After various excursions hither and thither
which took up the whole morning I at last managed to get my
horse-box coupled to the train. Wattrelot and I, together with the
Territorial section that served as guard, were the only passengers. The
whole train was composed of vans stuffed with food supplies and
mysterious cases, packed into some separate vans carefully sealed. Our
departure was fixed for two o'clock, and meanwhile I had a chat with
the Territorial lieutenant who commanded our escort. I tried to find out
from him what had happened at the Front. He did not know any more
than I did, and merely told me how sorry he was for his own ill-luck:
"You know, our job is no joke. We start after luncheon, travel all the
rest of the day and part of the night, sleep where we can, and the next
day we go back again in the empty train. It takes still longer to get back.
And the day after we begin all over again."

And the worthy man quietly folded his hands on the "fair roundness" of
his figure. He looked a good sort of fellow. He did his job
conscientiously; put his men into the third-class compartments assigned
to them; saw that they had their cartridges, and gave them some
fatherly counsel; and then he invited me into the second-class
compartment reserved for him. But I declined, as I preferred to travel
with my horses. The train jolted off. The heat was tropical. We had
pushed our sliding-door wide open, and, seated on our packages, we
contemplated the smiling summer landscape as it passed slowly before
us. And I came to the conclusion that we had found out the pleasantest
way of travelling:--to have a railway carriage to yourself, where you
can stand up, walk about and lie down; to go at a pace that allows you
to enjoy the scenery of the countries you pass through; and to be able to
linger and admire such and such a view, such and such a country
mansion or monument of olden days! That is a hundred times better
than the shaking and rush of a train de luxe.
I was delighted and touched by the sympathetic interest shown in us by
the people. Everywhere old men, women and children waved their
handkerchiefs and called out, "Good luck!... Good luck!"
The worthy Territorials answered back as best they could. One felt that
all hearts were possessed with one and the same thought, wish, and
hope,--the hearts of the men who were going slowly up to battle, and
those of the people who watched them pass and sent their good wishes
with them.
At one station where we stopped a group of girls dressed in white were
waiting on the platform under the burning rays of the sun. With
simplicity, grace, and charming smiles they distributed chocolate, bread,
and fruit to all the men. The good fellows were so touched that tears
came to their eyes. One of them, an elderly man with a small grey
pointed beard, could not help saying: "But we aren't going to fight, you
know. We are only here to take care of the train."
"That doesn't matter. That doesn't matter. Take it all the same. You are
soldiers, like the others.... Vive la France!" And all the thirty
Territorials, in deep and solemn tones, repeated "_Vive la France!_"

What a change had come over these men who, people feared, were ripe
for revolt, undisciplined, and reckless! What kindness and grace