CHAPTER II

THE MARCH TO THE TRENCHES _February 23._ At last! I have just been admitted to the sacred ranks of the _poilu_; I have just had a magnificent baptism of fire, and really the Boches have done me honor. But since this journal is to be a faithful record of my campaign, I must go back a little, and follow in order the events of the last few days. Three days ago, then, we came to the trenches. Orders arrived in the morning. The captain called us together and showed us our respective positions on a map of our line of defenses. Our section extended to the east of the Perthes-Hurlus line facing the north. Then after we section commanders had received final instructions, the company assembled and the captain made a short speech. Most of us were youngsters who had not yet been under fire, or else men who were wounded at the beginning of the war. “Our introduction to the first-line trenches would not give us a very complete notion of what war is really like. Our trench will be clean and well built, we shall not have to attack, and the Germans will certainly have the good taste not to bother us too much.” It remains to be seen whether these predictions were destined to be fulfilled by the events that followed. We were to start at 5 P.M. Troops are always relieved and moved at night in order to escape being seen by the enemy and avoid inopportune bombardments. The day was spent in preparations. All the men took baths; then stocked up their haversacks and filled their canteens. They bought great quantities of canned goods; also chocolate, condensed milk, and cigarettes. Any superfluous articles were taken out of the knapsacks and left in one of the rooms of the encampment. As the cold was sharp, mufflers were given out, and warm helmets, knitted by the devoted hands of the women of France or of America. The men then rigged themselves out after the true _poilu_ fashion—greatcoats with the flaps let down, double leggings, cartridge boxes full to bursting, canteens and haversacks bulging at their hips, and above them the fringe of a long muffler ready to be wrapped three times around their necks and over mouths from which protruded the ever-present pipe. Last of all, the stick, fantastically carved, to aid in walking through the mud. We ate early. At four o’clock I called the roll and made sure that everything was complete—food, tools, equipment—and that the guns were clean. I gave parting instructions to the cooks who were to remain at the hillock of Hurlus. Everything was in good shape. The company assembled on the road. There was a general roll-call. Beside us, the three other companies of the battalion were occupied in the same way. At a whistle from the major the companies began to move. While we were going through the village we kept at attention and shouldered arms, but as soon as we got by the cemetery the command was given, “Route step! March!”—and then began our climb toward the enemy. The road was appalling. It was broken up by endless convoys and covered with an abominable, sticky mud which made every step an effort, besides being very slippery. We envied the sappers of the engineering corps who, with their barbed wire and heavy tools, were sent to the front in the little Decauville railroad that runs along beside the road, and is used for carrying provisions and wounded. We marched a long time. At the end of the first hour we made the regulation halt, on the edge of a little wood, where there was a very pretty view of the plain, dotted here and there with ruined villages. Suddenly a terrific report right beside us gave us a disagreeable start. The captain told me it was a piece of heavy artillery twenty metres away. I looked, but could see nothing. What is more, not once during our whole march did I succeed in making out a single piece of artillery. Inasmuch as those who pass right beside our guns cannot see them, all the more reason to hope that enemy aviators will not be able to ferret them out! But if the big guns were not visible, it was easy enough to see the gunners, or at least such of them as were not busy with their pieces. They sat smoking their pipes at their front doors, for these gentlemen, mind you, have houses. Nicely hidden under the trees are mud huts, all covered with sod and branches. They look like the giant ant-hills depicted in natural history books, or the habitations of a Hottentot village. Stairs lead down, seemingly deep into the earth, and a peep inside that I managed to get as I passed, convinced me that this primitive form of architecture shelters a comfortable and modern interior. We kept on marching, ever and always in the mud that plastered our shoes and flecked the bottoms of our coats with a border of gray spots that made them look like altar cloths adorned with precious embroidery. Above our heads shrieked our shells, outstripping us on our way to the Boches; and very near at hand our cannon thundered. This seemed to displease our friends the Teutons, for suddenly a great humming, as of a monster insect, grew louder and louder and came straight toward us, making everybody duck, before it finally burst two hundred metres farther on. The first impression is not at all pleasant. The conviction is crystal clear that this snarling mass is headed straight upon you, and there flash through your mind all the tales of horrible wounds you have ever read or heard of—men blown to bits or disembowelled or what not—none of them things one is anxious to experience at first hand. Another, then another shell whistles by. Every head bobs down, while we all try in vain to hide our qualms under a smile; our nerves are not yet hardened to the fray. “Column of files!” commands the captain, and the column marching four abreast melts into four long lines, very far apart, advancing without speaking. A few harmless shells still went by, but just as the French seemed to be getting angry, and the detonations barked louder and louder, the Germans decided that the joke was stale, and nothing more came to make our hearts beat pitapat. However, we kept on ducking every time a shell came too near,—whether French or German it made no difference,—and we began to laugh every time we got a scare for nothing. We climbed over a whole series of trenches, four or five lines, one behind the other, perfectly constructed, ready to be used in case it is necessary to fall back. The men in command are taking no chances. After a fresh halt, the battalion formed once more by sections, four abreast, and stacked arms. We had reached the kitchens, hidden in a little ravine, and buried deep underground. Pots and pans came out of their places and were handed to the cooks. Then bread was given out, and preserves and wine. We were not to have coffee until morning in the trenches. We set out again about 9 P.M. One more hill to climb and we should be in the communication trenches. The battalion had been broken up and two companies only were to follow this sector, the two others going more to the east. Suddenly, down a slight incline we slid into the communication trench one by one and began to march between two walls of earth where we were entirely sheltered; it was hard to believe that we had arrived near the enemy. The night was dark and silent; no noise of cannon, only a few stray bullets that went over our heads with a sound like the swish of silk. A fine rain began to fall. After a march of about five hundred metres, the command to halt was given. We were at our destination. “The commander of the second section,” said a voice in the darkness. I stepped forward. It was the guide attached to the troops we were about to relieve who was to conduct me to my position. I received from my predecessor instructions with regard to the sector: two half-sections in separate salients, two listening-patrols, the enemy one hundred and fifty metres away, sector quiet, no casualties during the days he had spent there. But the Germans are continually on the watch, and we must be careful not to show our heads above the edge. When I had gained this information I asked the sergeant who was with me to go bring up the men. As my section came up on the right, the men we were replacing filed by on the left. Soon I was sole master of the field. One squad was quickly detailed for guard duty; double listening-patrols, relieved every hour, posted in shell holes in front of the trenches in the midst of the wire entanglement. The night was very quiet, but I did not attempt to sleep. Besides, no one had any great desire to sleep without knowing the place a little better, and then the nearness of the silent enemy is a bit awe-inspiring. Just before dawn it is necessary to be doubly vigilant, for that is the critical moment; many surprise attacks, it seems, take place then. At four in the morning a messenger came from the captain to ask for a report of the events of the night. I was obliged to answer that nothing had happened. Coffee arrived shortly, comforting and a little warm even yet. Then the day broke, cold, gray, and foggy. At last I was able to look around me.