In the Field (1914-1915) | Page 5

seat close to the pilot, behind the propeller which
was spinning round and sending the wind of its giddy speed into his
face. I longed to be able to lift myself into the air above the battlefields,
and there, suspended in space, try to make out the movements of the

clashing nations.
I resolved to have a talk with the engine-driver of a train returning to
Paris empty. He told me in a few words that the French army was
retreating rapidly, that it had already recrossed the Belgian frontier, and
that at that moment it was fighting on French soil. He told me this
simply, with a touch of sadness in his voice, shaking his head gently.
He added no comments of his own, and I did not feel equal to any reply.
Full of foreboding, I returned to my train and Wattrelot. He had heard
what the engine-driver had told me, and he said not a word, but looked
out into the distance at the fiery sky. We sat down side by side and said
nothing.
So we were retreating. Then all our calculations and dreams were
shattered. All the fine plans we officers had sketched out together were
folly. We were wasting time when, bending over our maps, we foresaw
a skilful advance on the heels of Belgium's invaders, followed by a
huge victory, dearly bought, perhaps, but one that would upset the
German Colossus at a single blow. The whole thing was an illusion.
And I thought what a fool I had been. I thought of my regiment. How
much of it was there left? How many of those good fellows were lying
dead on foreign soil? How many friends should I never see again? For I
imagined things to be worse than they really were. I felt absolutely
despondent. What my mind conjured up was no longer a retreat in good
order but a rout.
The train had begun to move again. The sun had set, and over the
horizon there was but a streak of pale yellow sky lighting up the
country. I sat down in the open doorway with my legs dangling outside,
and as I breathed the first few whiffs of fresh air I felt somewhat
relieved. The calm around was such as to make one forget that we were
at war. Darkness came on by degrees.
Suddenly my heart began to beat faster, and I rose with a nervous
movement. Wattrelot too had started up from the straw he had been
lying on. We both exclaimed in one breath: "Cannon!" It was a mere
distant growl, hardly audible, and yet it was distinct enough to be a
subdued accompaniment to the thousand noises a train makes as it goes

along. We could not distinguish the shots, but gradually the dull sound
became louder and seemed to be wafted towards us by a gust of air.
Then it seemed to be further off again, and almost to die away, and
again to get louder. There is no other earthly sound like it. A
thunderstorm as it dies away is the only thing that could suggest the
impression we felt. It sends a kind of shiver all over the surface of the
body. Even our horses felt it. Their three heads were raised uneasily,
their eyes shone in the twilight, and they snorted noisily through their
dilated nostrils.
Leaning out, I saw the heads of the Territorials thrust out of the
windows. They, too, had heard the mysterious and stirring music. No
one spoke or joked. Their bodies, stretching out into space, seemed to
be asking questions and imploring to know the truth. We came nearer
to the sounds of the guns and could now distinguish the shots following
one another at short intervals. The air seemed to be shaken, and we
might have thought we were but a few paces off.
The train had pulled up sharply in the open country. It was still light
enough for us to make out the landscape--meadows covered with long
pale grass, bordered by willows and tall poplar trees gently swaying in
the evening breeze. In the background a thick wood shut in the view.
The railway line curved away to the right and was lost to view in the
growing darkness. Now that the train was motionless the impressive
voice of the cannon could be heard more distinctly. The long luminous
trails of the search-lights passed over the sky at intervals.
Impatient at the delay, I got down and walked along the line to the
engine. It had stopped at a level crossing. At the side of the closed
barrier, on the doorstep of her hut, with the light shining upon her, sat
the wife of the gatekeeper, a child in her arms. She was a young