The Broken Soldier and the Maid of France | Page 5

horizon. But that General
Petain, he knew it all. Ah, that is a wise man, I can tell you! He sent us
to this place or that place where the defense was most needed. We went
gladly, without fear or holding back. We were resolute that those mad
dogs should not get through. 'They shall not pass!' And they did not
pass!"
"Glorious!" cried the priest, drinking the story in. "And you, Pierre?
Where were you, what were you doing?"
"I was at Douaumont, that fort on the highest hill of all. The Germans
took it. It cost them ten thousand men. The ground around it was like a
wood-yard piled with logs. The big shell-holes were full of corpses.
There were a few of us that got away. Then our company was sent to
hold the third redoubt on the slope in front of Fort de Vaux. Perhaps
you have heard of that redoubt. That was a bitter job. But we held it
many days and nights. The Bodies pounded us from Douaumont and
from the village of Vaux. They sent wave after wave up the slope to
drive us out. But we stuck to it. That ravine of La Cail-lette was a
boiling caldron of men. It bubbled over with smoke and 'fire. Once,
when their second wave had broken just in front of us, we went out to
hurry the fragments down the hill. Then the guns from Douaumont and
the village of Vaux hammered us. Our men fell like nine-pins. Our

lieutenant called to us to turn back. Just then a shell tore away his right
leg at the knee. It hung by the skin and tendons. He was a brave lad. I
could not leave him to die there. So I hoisted him on my back. Three
shots struck me. They felt just like hard blows from a heavy fist. One of
them made my left arm powerless. I sank my teeth in the sleeve of my
lieutenant's coat as it hung over my shoulder. I must not let him fall off
my back. Somehow--God knows how--I gritted through to our redoubt.
They took my lieutenant from my shoulders. And then the light went
out."
The priest leaned forward, his hands stretched out around the soldier.
"But you are a hero," he cried. "Let me embrace you!"
The soldier drew back, shaking his head sadly. "No," he said, his voice
breaking--"no, my father, you must not embrace me now. I may have
been a brave man once. But now I am a coward. Let me tell you
everything. My wounds were bad, but not desperate. The brancardiers
carried me down to Verdun, at night, I suppose, but I was unconscious;
and so to the hospital at Vaudelaincourt. There were days and nights of
blankness mixed with pain. Then I came to my senses and had rest. It
was wonderful. I thought that I had died and gone to heaven. Would
God it had been so! Then I should have been with my lieutenant. They
told me he had passed away in the redoubt. But that hospital was
beautiful, so clean and quiet and friendly. Those white nurses were
angels. They handled me like a baby. I would have liked to stay there. I
had no desire to get better. But I did. One day several officers visited
the hospital. They came to my cot, where I was sitting up. The highest
of them brought out a Cross of War and pinned it on the breast of my
nightshirt. 'There,' he said, 'you are decorated, Pierre Duval! You are
one of the heroes of France. You are soon going to be perfectly well
and to fight again bravely for your country.' I thanked him, but I knew
better. My body might get perfectly well, but something in my soul was
broken. It was worn out. The thin spring had snapped. I could never
fight again. Any loud noise made me shake all over. I knew that I could
never face a battle--impossible! I should certainly lose my nerve and
run away. It is a damned feeling, that broken something inside of one. I
can't describe it."

Pierre stopped for a moment and moistened his dry lips with the tip of
his tongue.
"I know," said Father Courcy. "I understand perfectly what you want to
say. It was like being lost and thinking that nothing could save you; a
feeling that is piercing and dull at the same time, like a heavy weight
pressing on you with sharp stabs in it. It was what they call shellshock,
a terrible thing. Sometimes it drives men crazy for a while. But the
doctors know what to do for that malady. It passes. You got over it."
"No," answered Pierre, "the doctors