In the Field (1914-1915) | Page 4

in the
women who stay at home and suffer! An old railwayman said to me: "It
has been like that, Sir, from the first day of the mobilisation. These
girls pass their days and nights at the station. It is really very good of
them, for they won't make anything by it." The old working man was
right: "They won't make anything by it." And yet I am sure that many
soldiers who have passed that station on their way to the Front will
keep the same grateful remembrance that I still have. I shall never
forget the group of girls in white on the sunny platform of the little
station; I shall never forget the simple grace with which they prevailed
upon the men to accept the good things they offered and even forced
upon them. I thanked them as best I could, but awkwardly enough,
trying to interpret the thoughts of all those soldiers. And when the train
had started again on its panting course, I felt sorry I had not been more
eloquent in my speech; that I had already forgotten the name of the
little station, and never thought of asking the names of our
benefactresses.
We were now getting near the fighting zone, and I already felt that
there was a change in the state of mind of the people. They still called
out to us: "Good luck!... Good luck!" But earlier in the day this greeting
had been given with smiles and merry gestures; now it was uttered in a
serious and solemn tone. At the station gates and the level crossings,
the eyes of the women who looked at us were more sad and profound.
They fixed themselves upon ours, and seemed to speak to us. And even
when their lips did not move their eyes still said "Good luck!... Good
luck!"
We saw motor cars rushing along the roads, and could distinguish the
armbands on the men's sleeves, and rifles in the cars or lying in the
hoods. And yet daily life was going on as usual. There were workers in
the fields, tradespeople on the doorsteps of their shops, groups of
peasants just outside the hamlets. But yet a peculiar state of mind was
evident in each one of these people who were going on with their daily
work. And all these accumulated cares, all these stirred imaginations,
produced a strange atmosphere which infected everything, seemed to

impregnate the air we breathed, and quenched the gaiety of the men in
our train. Wattrelot and I were overcome by a kind of religious emotion;
we felt as though we were already breathing the air of battle.
At about six o'clock we arrived at the station of L., where the train
stopped for a few minutes. The platforms were crowded with Staff
officers. A soldier assured me that the chief Headquarters were here. I
wanted to question some one and try to get some authoritative
information as to what was happening at the Front. It seemed to me that
I had a right to know, now that I was on the point of becoming one of
the actors in the tragedy in progress a few leagues off. But directly I
came up to these officers I felt my assurance fail me. They looked
disturbed and anxious. There was none of that merry animation that had
reigned in the interior and that I had expected to find everywhere.
And then a strange and ridiculous fear came over me; the fear of being
looked upon as an intruder by these well-informed men who knew
everything. I imagined that they would spurn me with scorn, or that I
should cause them pain by forcing them to tell me truths people do not
like to repeat. It also occurred to me that I was too insignificant a
person to confront men so high in office, and that I should appear
importunate if I disturbed their reflections. But I was now quite sure
that the official announcements had not told us all. Without having
heard one word, I felt that things were not going so well as we had
hoped, as every day in our little town in the west we tried passionately
to divine the truth, devouring the few newspapers that reached us.
A pang shot through me. I now felt alone and lost amongst these men
who seemed strangers to me. Crossing the rails, I got back to our train,
drawn up at some distance from the platforms. The sun was on the
horizon. In the red sky two monoplanes passed over our heads at no
great height. The noise of their engines made everybody look up. They
were flying north. And I felt a desire to rush upwards and overtake one
of them and take my