My Home in the Field of Honor. Frances Wilson Huard
on either side of the road, and was swinging a heavy chain between them.
I looked askance at the schoolmaster who stood in the doorway surveying the work. He explained that he had received instructions to the effect that all passers-by unknown to this village were to be stopped and asked for their papers. The men and boys who remained were to take turns mounting guard, and thus to help to eradicate the circulation of spies. Two suspicious motors and a man on a bicycle had already been signaled. Should they appear and fail to produce their papers, immediate arrest would follow. Should they offer the slightest opposition or attempt escape, the sentinels had orders to shoot.
I enquired if it would be necessary for we to have a sauf-conduit, being bound for Charly, and possibly the station at Nogent, where I hoped that the soldiers of a passing train would throw me a newspaper.
Mr. Duguey replied that he would gladly present me with the first passport, and seemed wonderfully taken with my idea about the papers. He admitted that living in darkness was beginning to get on his nerves, too, and asked me, in case my plan should prove successful, if I would be willing to put it on the public sign board so all could see the news. I acquiesced willingly, and after he had asked a few questions as to names, age, characteristics and destination, he stamped the seal on my paper, and I departed.
At Charly the same preparations had been made, and two elderly men, leaning on their guns, smiled as I presented my paper for their inspection.
At the hotel, the proprietor had just returned after having waited nearly twenty-four hours in line to present his machines. All save one had been bought for the army. But with his double-seated taxi he promised to drive me to Soissons the following morning.
I continued my road, and reached Nogent to find that I was not alone in my idea about begging the papers. Several others from neighboring villages, so I heard, had already succeeded in obtaining a sheet, and had driven off hastily with their trophies. My proceeding was very simple. It consisted of crossing the rails to the up-train platform, to stand in line with the other women already assembled, there to wait like birds on a fence until a train coming from Paris passed by. Then as it whizzed through the station, we shouted in chorus, "Les journaux! Les jour-naux!"
It worked like magic. We had hardly been there two minutes when a train was signaled.
As it approached, we could see that engine and cars were decorated with garlands of flowers, and trailing vines, while such inscriptions as, "Train de Plaisir pour Berlin," and numerous caricatures had been chalked on the varnished sides of the carriages.
Our appeals were not in vain. With joyful shouts, the boys gladly threw us the papers which were welcomed like the rain of manna in the desert. I managed to collect two, L'Action Franfaise, and Le Bonnet Rouge.
Until others and fresher were procured, the Royalist and the
Revolutionary sheets hung side by side on the public sign board at
Villiers, proving that under the Third Republic, Liberte', Egalite', Fraternite are not vain words.
The news of the violation of Luxembourg and Belgian territory created less sensation than one might have expected. In the circumstances news of any kind seemed a blessing.
There was still quite a gathering in front of the town hall when the first carts began to return from the revision. They were few and far between, compared with the double line that had driven past in the morning. My heart leapt with joy, as I saw George, driving Cesar, turn into the court.
"Too old, Madame," he said, his eyes shining. "Though still so game that they nearly kept him. He's reserved for a second call."
"And Florentin and Cognac?"
The boy put his hand into his pocket and held out a slip of paper. I took it and read, "Bon pour 1,200 francs, prix de 2 chevaux, etc."
"Well, thank God, we've got one left anyhow," thought I as I entered the hall. Just then the gate creaked and I could vaguely distinguish in the deepening twilight the forms of mother Poupard and Julia hurrying towards the stables. I followed.
"George! George!" called Julia.
"Well?" came the answer from within.
"George—where's the old man?" queried mother Poupard in excited tones.
"How do I know?"
"Was our horse taken? Can you tell us that?"
"I think so; yes."
"Then why didn't Poupard come back with you and Leon in the cart? Did you see him?"
"Yes."
"Where was he?"
"In front of a cafe as we drove past."
"Oh, the old villain! The wretch! Oh, mon Dieu, what shall we do! Oh, the wicked old man—if I had him here, I'd thrash him good!"
And mother Poupard began brandishing a pitch-fork with such violence that I commenced to fear that failing her delinquent spouse, she would fall upon George to wreak vengeance.
"Oh, the old devil! Oh—"
"Look here, I'm not his nurse—now clear out, the lot of you!"
The injunction served its purpose, for remembering they were "not at home," the two women retired in high dudgeon, wailing and lamenting in such audible tones that their neighbors came out to see what was the matter, and laughed at mother Poupard's threat of what she would do if ever she got le vieux into her clutches.
By six A. M. on the Friday I had breakfasted and was ready to leave for Soissons. The taxi from the Hotel du Balcon made its appearance a few moments later, and after a visit to the town hall, where we secured the necessary passports, we set off on our journey.
At the entrance to every little village we were obliged to halt and exhibit our papers—after which formality the chain would be let down and we allowed to go our way.
Half an hour later as we crossed Chateau Thierry we could see the rows of horses that had not yet been examined lined up along the square. The commissaries had worked all night and their task was still far from finished.
Until we reached Oulchy-le-Chateau, the chains were the only outward signs that betokened the belligerent state of the country, and even then as those who mounted guard were not in uniform, it seemed rather as though we were passing a series of toll-gates. However, as we ran along the splendid roads between the great fertile plains, I observed that the harvesting was being done chiefly by women, and that the roads themselves were empty of any vehicle. Evidently only those who had an important errand were allowed on the routes nationals, thus kept clear for the transport of troops or ammunition.
At Oulchy, half-way to Soissons, we halted at a railway crossing to let a long, lazy train drag out of the station. When at length the bars were drawn up, much excitement reigned on the little platform which we had been unable to see from the other side of the rails. Young girls with pails and dippers in their hands stood chattering with women in wrappers, whose disheveled appearance told plainly that they had been hastily awakened and had hurried thence without thinking of their toilette.
"What is it?" I asked of the garde-barriere.
"Wounded!"
"Wounded?"
"Yes—the first. Not badly wounded and they are able to travel, but unable to hold a gun. And they were all so thirsty!"
Poor fellows, thought I, already out of the ranks and the first week is not yet passed.
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