In the Field (1914-1915) | Page 6

woman,
fair and pale. She seemed somewhat uneasy, and yet had no idea of
quitting her post. She was talking in a low voice to the engine driver
and stoker of our train. I tried to get some information from her. "Mon
Dieu, monsieur," she said, "I know nothing, except that the guns have
been firing all day long since yesterday, and even at times during the
night. The sound comes chiefly from the direction of G. Some soldiers,

who went by just now with carts, told me the Prussians got into the
town yesterday, but that it was to be retaken to-day; and that there were
a great many dead and wounded."
My hopes revived a little. I saw at once in my mind the German attack
stopped on the river Oise, our armies recovering, drawing together and
driving the enemy back across the frontier. Our engine-driver explained
to me that we had come quite close to the terminus, but that we should
have to wait some time before we could get in. Other trains had to be
unloaded and shunted to make room.
I went back to my van. Night had fallen, and it must have been about
nine o'clock. The guns had suddenly ceased firing. Our lantern had
burnt itself out, and the rest of our wait was made more tedious by
darkness. An empty train passed us, and then silence fell once more
upon the spot where we waited anxiously to be allowed to go forward
towards our brothers-in-arms. Oh! how I longed to join them, even if it
were only in the middle of a bloody and difficult retreat; how I longed
to be delivered from my solitude!
At last, at about eleven o'clock, the train set off again without whistling,
and very slowly. It went along timidly, so to speak, and as though it
was afraid of coming into some unknown region which might be full of
mysteries and ambuscades. In the distance I saw some signal lamps
waved, and suddenly we stopped. What I then saw astounded me. I had
thought we should draw up at a large platform where gangs of men
would be waiting, in perfect order, to unload the train, sort out the
packages, and pile them up in their appointed places for the carts to
take them quietly away.
Instead of this the train stopped at some little distance from a small
station standing by itself in the open country. I could make out some
buildings, badly lighted, and around them a crowd of shadowy forms
moving about. And drawn up alongside of our train were countless
vehicles of all sorts and kinds in indescribable disorder, made all the
more confusing by the darkness. Some of them were drawn up in some
sort of a line. Others tried to edge themselves in and get a vacant place
among the entanglement of wheels and horses. The drivers were

abusing each other in forcible language. Every now and again there was
an outburst of laughter interspersed with oaths.
All this time officials were running down the platform with papers in
their hands, trying to read what was chalked on the vans. Enquiries and
shouts were heard:
"Where is the bread?"
"Over here."
"No, it's not."
"Where is the officer in charge?"
Matches were struck. The few lighted lanterns there were were
snatched from one hand by another. And in spite of all this apparent
disorder the work went rapidly forward. Men climbed in through the
open doors. Sacks and heavy cases were passed along. Porters, bending
under their loads, slipped through the maze of vans and carts to the one
they wanted and deposited their burdens.
After giving Wattrelot orders to prevent any one from invading our
horse-box I slipped out and went towards the station office to look for
the military commissary. I had great difficulty in making my way
through the crowd of men who seemed to be rushing to take the train
by assault in the darkness. Then I had to avoid breaking my neck in
getting across the maze of rails, the signal wires, and the open ditches.
I got to the station. A number of wounded were there lying on the
platforms; about a hundred of them, with their clothes torn, and
covered with dust. They presented a sad picture. They were, it is true,
only slightly wounded; but it cuts one to the heart to see soldiers in that
plight, hauled out upon the ground without straw to lie upon or any
doctor to attend to them. However, they had all had first-aid dressings.
Below the bandages that bound their heads their feverish eyes gleamed
in the light of the lanterns. Their bandaged arms were supported by
pieces of linen tied behind their necks. Several of them