In the Field (1914-1915) | Page 8

as
he was getting into the saddle.
At last we started at a quick trot along a white and dusty road which led
straight across fields still bathed in shadow. I went first in the direction
my friend had vaguely indicated the night before. Wattrelot followed,
leading my spare horse. The horses' footsteps resounded strangely in
this unknown country where nothing else could be heard. Were we
really at war? Everything seemed, on the contrary, to breathe perfect
tranquillity. What a change from the feverish bustle of the station the
evening before!
We rode through a rich and fertile countryside. The fields stretched out
one after another without end, covering the rounded flanks of the
undulating ground with their stubble, dotted with stacks and golden
sheaves. A few hedges and some clumps of trees broke the monotony
of the landscape. Here and there farms of imposing proportions
appeared among the foliage. No shots were to be heard, nor any sound
of marching troops. And this made me so uneasy that I began to
wonder whether something had not happened during the night to shift
the scene of the fighting without my knowledge. But I was about to see
something which was to remind me, better than the noise of cannon,
that the scene of the strife was not far off.
As the daylight became gradually brighter we distinguished figures
moving round some straw-stacks--folks who had collected there to pass
the night sheltered as much as possible from the cold and the morning
dew. I thought they were soldiers who had lost touch with their
regiments and had taken their brief night's rest in the open air. But I
soon saw my mistake. As by enchantment, as soon as the first rays of
the sun appeared the sleepers got up, and I saw that they were civilians,
mostly women and children. They were the unfortunate country-folk
who had fled before the barbarian hordes. They had preferred to

forsake their homes, to leave them to the invader, rather than fall into
his hands. They had fled, carrying with them the most precious things
they possessed. They had come away not knowing where they would
stop, nor where they could pass the night. And as soon as the twilight
came and found them exhausted on the interminable roads, they had
dropped down by the stacks grateful for a humble bed of straw. There
they had stretched their aching limbs, the mothers had carefully made
up little beds for their babies, families had nestled closely together, and
often whole villages had gathered in the same fields and around the
same stacks.
And when the daylight appeared they had got up hurriedly and the
roads were already crowded with mournful pilgrims seeking refuge
further and further inland. I must confess that I had not expected to see
such a sight. It made my heart ache. I was seized with a fury and longed
to be able to rush upon the enemy, drive him back across the frontier,
and restore the dwellings forsaken by these poor folks.
What human being, however cold-hearted, could help feeling deep pity
at the sight of those poor, weak and inoffensive creatures fleeing before
invasion? There were pitiable sights on every hand. A mother pushing a
perambulator containing several small children, whilst five or six others
were hanging on to her dress or trotting along around her. Poor invalids,
dragged, pushed, carried by all possible means, sooner than be left in
the hands of the Prussians. Old men helped along by boys; infants
carried by old men. And as they passed they all cast a look of distress at
the officer who rode quickly by, averting his eyes. I thought I saw a
reproach in those glances: they seemed to say to me: "Why haven't you
been able to defend us? Why have you let them come into our country?
See how we are suffering. Look at our little children, who cannot walk
any further. Where are we to go now that, by your fault, we have left
the homes of our childhood, and of our fathers and our fathers' fathers?
Is that what war is?" I urged on my horse to get them out of my sight
and to reach the fighting line as quickly as I could.
Suddenly the report of a gun sounded straight in front of me. Further
off a few rifle shots were audible, and then guns again, accompanied by

concentrated rifle fire. A kind of shiver passed through my whole body.
My first battle! I was going to take part in my first battle! I felt really
mad and intoxicated at the thought of at last realising the dream of my
life. But other feelings were mingled with it. I reflected: "What effect
will it have upon