CHAPTERXVI

chapterxvi

thelifeofamiensendedforawhile,andthecitywasdesertedbyallitspeople,afterthenightofmarch30,1918,whichwillberememberedforevertotheage-longhistoryofamiensasitsnightofgreatesttragedy.foraweektheenemyhadbeenadvancingacrosstheoldbattlefieldsafterthefirstonslaughtinthemorningofmarch21st,whenourlineswerestormedandbrokenbyhismen'soddsagainstourdefendingtroops.wewarcorrespondentshadsufferedmentalagonieslikeallwhoknewwhathadhappenedbetterthanthetroopsthemselves.everydayafterthefirstbreak-throughwepushedoutindifferentdirections—hamiltonfyfeandiwenttogethersometimesuntilwecameupwiththebackwashofthegreatretreat,ebbingbackandback,dayafterday,withincreasingspeed,untilitdrewveryclosetoamiens.itwasakindoforderedchaos,terribletosee.itwasachaoslikethatofupturnedant-heaps,butwitheachanttryingtorescueitseggsandsticksinapersistent,orderlyway,directedbysomecontrollingorcommunalintelligence,onlyinsteadofeggsandsticksthesesoldier-antsofours,inthewholeworldbehindourfront-lines,weretryingtorescueheavyguns,motor-lorries,tanks,ambulances,hospitalstores,ordnancestores,steam-rollers,agriculturalimplements,transportwagons,railwayengines,y.m.c.a.tents,gun-horseandmulecolumns,whilerear-guardactionswerebeingfoughtwithingunfireofthemandwalkingwoundedwerehobblingbackalongtheroadsinthisuproaroftraffic,andwordcamethatafurtherretreatwashappeningandthattheenemyhadbrokenthroughagain...

amiensseemedthreatenedonthemorningwhen,tothenorth,albertwasheldbyamixedcrowdofscottishandenglishtroops,toothin,asicouldseewhenipassedthroughthem,tofightanybigaction,withanenemyadvancingrapidlyfromcourcelletteandoutflankingourlinebymontaubanandfricourt.isawourmenmarchinghastilyinretreattoescapethattighteningnet,andwhilethesouthernsideofamienswasheldbyacrowdoflerswithcyclistbattalions,clerksfromheadquartersstaffs,anddismountedcavalry,commandedbybrigadier-generalcarey,sentdownhurriedlytolinkthemtogetherandstopawideninggapuntilthefrenchcouldgettoourreliefontherightanduntiltheaustralianshadcomedownfromflanders.therewasnothingonthatdaytopreventthegermansbreakingthroughtoamiensexceptthecourageofexhaustedboysthinlystrungout,andtheingfootstepsofthegermansthemselves,whohadsufferedheavylossesallthewayandwerespentforawhilebytheirprogressoverthewildgroundoftheoldfighting-fields.theirheavygunswerefarbehind,unabletokeeppacewiththestormtroops,andtheenemywasrelyingentirelyonmachine-gunsandafewfield-guns,butmostofourgunswerealsooutofaction,capturedorfallingbacktonewlines,anduponthespeedwithwhichtheenemycouldmasshismenforanewassaultdependedthesafetyofamiensandtheroadtoabbevilleandthecoast.ifhecouldhurlfreshdivisionsofmenagainstourlineonthatlastnightofmarch,orbringupstrongforcesofcavalry,orarmoredcars,ourlinewouldbreakandamienswouldbelost,andallourworkwouldbeinjeopardy.thatwascertain.itwasvisible.itcouldnotbeconcealedbyanycamouflageofhopeorcourage.

itwasafteradayonthesommebattlefields,passingthroughourretiringtroops,thatisatdown,withotherwarcorrespondentsandseveralofficers,toadinnerintheoldhoteldurhininamiens.itwasadismalmeal,inaroomwheretherehadbeenmuchlaughterand,throughoutthebattlesofthesomme,in1916,acomingandgoingofgeneralsandstaffsandofficersofallgrades,cheeryandhigh-spiritedattheselittletableswherethereweregoodwineandnotbadfood,andputtingawayfromtheirmindsforthetimebeingthethoughtoftragiclossesorforlornbattlesinwhichtheymightfall.inthequietudeofthehotelgarden,alittlesquareplotofgrassborderedbyflower-beds,ihadhadstrangeconversationswithboyswhohadrevealedtheirsoulsalittle,afterdinnerinthedarkness,theirfacesbarednowandthenbythelightofcigarettesortheflareofamatch.

“deathisnothing,”saidoneyoungofficerjustdownfromthesommefieldsforaweek'srest-cureforjanglednerves.“idon'tcareadamnfordeath;butit'sthewaitingforit,thedevilishnessofitsuncertainty,thesightofone'spalsblowntobitsaboutone,andtheanimalfearundershell-fire,thatbreakone'spluck...mynervesarelikefiddle-strings.”

inthatgarden,othermen,withaqueerlaughnowandthenbetweentheirstories,hadtoldmetheirexperiencesinshell-cratersandditchesunderfrightfulfirewhichhad“wipedout”theirplatoonsorcompanies.aledstork,theinseparablecompanionofawaddlinggull,usedtolistentotheconferences,withonelegtuckedunderhiswing,anditsheadononeside,withonewatchful,beadyeyefixedonthefiguresinkhaki—untilsuddenlyitwouldclapitslongbillrapidlyinawonderfulimitationofmachine-gunfire—“cursethebloodybird!”saidofficersstartledbythisevilandreminiscentnoise—andcaperwithridiculousposturesroundtheimperturbablegull...beyondthelines,fromthedining-room,wouldcomethebabbleofmanytonguesandthelaughterofofficerstellingstoriesagainstoneanotherovertheirbottlesofwine,servedbygastonthehead-waiter,betweenourdiscussionsonstrategy—hewasastrategistbyvirtueofserviceinthetrenchesandseveralwounds—orby“vontirpitz,”anolder,whiskeredman,orbyjoseph,whohadahigh,cacklinglaughandstrongviewsagainstthefairsex,andtheinevitablecry,“c'estlaguerre!”whenofficerscomplainedoftheservice...therehadbeenmerrypartiesinthisroom,crowdedwiththeghostsofmanyheroicfellows,butitwasagloomygatheringonthateveningattheendofmarchwhenwesatthereforthelasttime.therewerethereofficerswhohadlosttheirtowns,and“dadoses”(deputyassistantdirectorofordnancesupplies)whosestoreshadgoneupinsmokeandflame,andafewcavalryofficersbackfromspecialleaveandappalledbywhathadhappenedintheirabsence,andagroupofy.m.c.a.officialswhohadescapedbytheskinoftheirteethfromhutsnowfarbehindthegermanlines,andcensorswhoknewthatnobluepencilcouldhidethetruthoftheretreat,andwarcorrespondentswhohadtowritethetruthandhatedit.

gastonwhisperedgloomilybehindmychair:“monpetitcaporal”—hecalledmethatbecauseofafanciedlikenesstotheyoungnapoleon—“ditesdonc.vouscroyexquilsvontpasserparamiens?non,cen'estpaspossible,ca!pourladeuxiemefois?non.jerefusealecroire.maisc'estmauvais,c'estaffreux,aprestantdesacrifice!”

madame,ofthecash-desk,satinthedining-room,forcompany'ssake,fixingupaccountsasthoughthelastdayofreckoninghadcome...asithad.herhair,withitslittlecurls,wasstillinperfectorder.shehadtwodabsofcoloronhercheeks,asusual,butunderneathawaxenpallor.shewasworkingoutaccountswithayoungofficer,whosmokedinnumerablecigarettestosteadyhisnerves.“vontirpitz”wasgoingroundinanabsent-mindedway,pullingathislongwhiskers.

thewarcorrespondentstalkedtogether.wespokegloomily,inlowvoices,sothatthewaitersshouldnothear.

“iftheybreakthroughtoabbevilleweshalllosethecoast.”

“willthatbeawinforthegermans,eventhen?”

“itwillmakeithellinthechannel.”

“weshalltransferourbasetost.-nazaire.”

“francewon'tgiveinnow,whateverhappens.andenglandnevergivesin.”

“we'reexhausted,allthesame.it'saquestionofman-power.”

“they'reboundtotakealbertto-nightorto-morrow.”

“idon'tseethatatall.there'sstillaline...”

“aline!ahandfuloftiredmen.”

“itwillbethedeviliftheygetintovillers-bretonneuxto-night.itcommandsamiens.theycouldblowtheplaceoffthemap.”

“theywon't.”

“wekeeponsaying,'theywon't.'wesaid,'theywon'tgetthesommecrossings!'buttheydid.let'sfaceitsquarely,withoutanydamnedfalseoptimism.thathasbeenourcurseallthrough.”

“betterthanyourdamnedpessimism.”

“it'squitepossiblethattheywillbeinthiscitytonight.whatistokeepthemback?there'snothinguptheroad.”

“itwouldlooksillyifwewereallcapturedto-night.howtheywouldlaugh!”

“weshouldn'tlaugh,though.ithinkweoughttokeepaneyeonthings.”

“howarewetoknow?weareutterlywithoutmeansofcommunication.anythingmayhappeninthenight.”

somethinghappenedthen.itwashalfpastsevenintheevening.thereweretwoenormouscrashesoutsidethewindowsofthehoteldurhin.allthewindowsshookandthewholehouseseemedtorock.therewasanoiseofrendingwood,manyfallsofbricks,andacascadeoffallingglass.instinctivelyandinstantlyanumberofofficersthrewthemselvesonthefloortoescapeflyingbitsofsteelandglasssplintersblownsideways.thensomeonelaughed.

“notthistime!”

theofficersrosefromthefloorandtooktheirplacesatthetable,andlitcigarettesagain.buttheywerelistening.welistenedtotheloudhumofairplanes,thewellknown“zooz-zooz”ofthegothas'doublefuselage.morebombsweredroppedfartherintothetown,withthesamesoundofexplosivesandfallingmasonry.theanti—aircraftgunsgottoworkandtherewastheshrillchorusofshrapnelshellswingingovertheroofs.

“bang!...crash!”

thatwasneareragain.

someoftheofficersstrolledoutofthediningroom.

“they'remakingamessoutside.perhapswe'dbettergetawaybeforeitgetstoohot.”

madamefromthecash-deskturnedtoheraccountsagain.inoticedtheincreasingpallorofherskinbeneaththetwodabsofred.butshecontrolledhernervespluckily;evensmiled,too,attheyoungofficerwhowassettlingupforagroupofothers.

themoonhadrisenoverthehousesofamiens.itwasastoundinglybrightandbeautifulinaclearskyandstillair,andthestreetswerefloodedwithwhitelight,andtheroofsglitteredlikesilveraboveintenseblackshadowsunderthegables,wheretherayswerebarredbyprojectingwalls.

“cursethemoon!”saidoneofficer.“howihateitsdamnedlight.”

butthemoon,coldandsmiling,lookeddownupontheworldatwarandintothisoldcityofamiens,inwhichbombswerebursting.womenwererunningclosetothewalls.groupsofsoldiersmadeadashfromonedoorwaytoanother.horsesgallopedwithheavywagonsupthestreetofthethreepebbles,whileshrapnelflickeredintheskyabovethemandpaving-stoneswerehurledupinburstsofredfireandexplosions.manyhorseswerekilledbyflyingchunksofsteel.theylaybleedingmonstrouslysothattherewerelargepoolsofbloodaroundthem.

anofficercameintothesidedoorofthehoteldurhin.hewaswhiteunderhissteelhat,whichhepushedbackwhilehewipedhisforehead.

“afellowwaskilledjustbymyside.”hesaid.“wewerestandinginadoorwaytogetherandsomethingcaughthimintheface.hefelllikealog,withoutasound,asdeadasadoor-nail.”

therewasaflightofmidgesinthesky,droningwiththatdoublenotewhichvibratedlike'cellostrings,veryloudly,andwiththatsinisternoiseicouldseethemquiteclearlynowandthenastheypassedacrossthefaceofthemoon,black,flittingthings,withaglitterofshrapnelbelowthem.fromtimetotimetheywentawayuntiltheywerespecksofsilverandblack;butalwaystheycamebackagain,orotherscame,withnewstoresofbombswhichtheyunloadedoveramiens.soitwentonallthroughthenight.

iwentuptoabedroomandlayonabed,tryingtosleep.butitwasimpossible.mywill-powerwasnotstrongenoughtodisregardthosecrashesinthestreetsoutside,whenhousescollapsedwithfrightfulfallingnoisesafterbombexplosions.myinnervisionforesawtheceilingabovemepiercedbyoneofthosebombs,andtheroominwhichilayengulfedinthechaosofthiswingofthehoteldurhin.manytimesisaid,“tohellwithitall...i'mgoingtosleep,”andthensatupinthedarknessattherenewalofthattumultandswitchedontheelectriclight.no,impossibletosleep!outsideinthecorridortherewasastampedeofheavyboots.officerswererunningtogetintothecellarsbeforethenextcrash,whichmightflingthemintothedismalgulfs.thethoughtofthatcellarpulledmedownlikethelawofgravity.iwalkedalongthecorridor,nowdeserted,andsawastairwaylitteredwithbrokenglass,whichmyfeetscrunched.therewerenolightsinthebasementofthehotel,butihadaflash-lamp,goingdim,andbyitspaleeyefumbledmywaytoastonepassageleadingtothecellar.thatflightofstonestepswaslitteredalsowithbrokenglass.inthecellaritselfwasamixedcompanyofmenwhohadbeendiningearlierintheevening,joinedbyotherswhohadcomeinfromthestreetsforshelter.someofthemhadeddownmattressesfromthebedroomsandwerelyingthereintheirtrench-coats,withtheirsteelhatsbesidethem.othersweresittingonwoodencases,wearingtheirsteelhats,whiletherewereothersontheirknees,andtheirfacesintheirhands,tryingtosleep.thereweresomeofthetownmajorswhohadlosttheirtowns,andsomecanadiancavalryofficers,andtwoorthreeprivatesoldiers,andsomemotor-driversandorderlies,andtwoyoungcooksofthehotellyingtogetherondirtystraw.byoneofthestonepillarsofthevaultedroomtwoamericanwarcorrespondents—simsandmackenzie—weresittingonapacking-caseplayingcardsonaboardbetweenthem.theyhadstuckcandlesinemptywine-bottles,andtheflickeringlightplayedontheirfacesandcastdeepshadowsundertheireyes.istoodwatchingthesemeninthatcellarandthoughtwhatagoodsubjectitwouldbeforthepencilofmuirheadbone.iwantedtogetacomfortableplace.therewasonlyoneplaceonthebarestones,andwhenilaydowntheremybonesachedabominably,anditwasverycold.throughanapertureinthewindowcameakeendraftandicouldseeinasquareofmoonlitskyaglintingstar.itwasnotmuchofacellar.adirecthitonthehoteldurhinwouldmakeanastymessinthisvaultedroomandendagameofcards.afterfifteenminutesibecamerestless,anddecidedthattheroomupstairs,afterall,wasinfinitelypreferabletothisdampcellarandthesehardstones.ireturnedtoitandlaydownonthebedagainandswitchedoffthelight.butthenoisesoutside,thelonelinessoftheroom,thesenseofsuddendeathflukingoverhead,mademesitupagainandlistenintently.thegothasweredroningoveramiensagain.manyhousesroundaboutwerebeingtornandshattered.whatawreckagewasbeingmadeofthedearoldcity!ipacedupanddowntheroom,smokingcigarettes,oneafteranother,untilamightyexplosion,veryclose,madeallmynervesquiver.no,decidedly,thatcellarwasthebestplace.ifonehadtodieitwasbettertobeinthecompanyoffriends.downiwentagain,meetinganofficerwhomiknewwell.he,too,wasawandererbetweenthecellarandtheabandonedbedrooms.

“iamgettingboredwiththis,”hesaid.“it'sabsurdtothinkthatthisfilthycellarisanysaferthanupstairs.butthedugoutsensecallsonedown.anyhow,ican'tsleep.”

westoodlookingintothecellar.therewassomethingcomicalaswellassinisterinthesightofthecompanytheresprawledonthemattresses,vainlytryingtoextractcomfortoutofpacking-casesforpillows,orgas-bagsonsteelhats.onefriendofours,acavalryofficeroftheoldschool,lookedacrossbetweencharliechaplinandol'bill,withafiercefrownabovehisblackmustache.simsandmackenziestillplayedtheirgameofcards,silently,betweenthegutteringcandles.

ithinkiwentfromthecellartothebedroom,andfromthebedroomtothecellar,sixtimesthatnight.therewasnevertenminutes'relieffromthedroneofgothas,whoweremakingacompletejobofamiens.itwasatfourinthemorningthatimetthesameofficerwhosawmewanderingbefore.

“letusgoforawalk,”hesaid.“thebirdswillbeawaybydawn.”

itwasnothinglikedawnwhenwewentoutofthesidedoorofthehoteldurhinandstrolledintothestreetofthethreepebbles.therewasstillthesamewhitemoonlight,intenseandglittering,butwithapalersky.itshonedownupondarkpoolsofbloodandthecarcassesofhorsesandfragmentsofflesh,fromwhichasicklysmellrose.theroadwaywaslitteredwithbitsoftimberandheapsofmasonry.manyhouseshadcollapsedintowildchaos,andothers,thoughstillstanding,hadbeenstrippedoftheirwoodenfrontagesandtheirwallswerescarredbybomb-splinters.everypartoftheoldcity,asweexploreditlater,hadbeenbadlymauled,andhundredsofhouseswereutterlydestroyed.theairraidceasedat4.30a.m.,whenthefirstlightofdawncameintothesky....

thatdayamienswasevacuated,bycommandofthefrenchmilitaryauthorities,andtheinhabitantstrailedoutofthecity,leavingeverythingbehindthem.isawthewomenlockinguptheirshops—wheretherewereanydoorstoshutortheirshopstillstanding.manypeoplemusthavebeenkilledandburiedinthenightbeneaththeirownhouses—ineverknewhowmany.thefugitivesescapedthenextphaseofthetragedyinamienswhen,withinafewhours,theenemysentoverthefirsthighvelocities,andformanyweeksafterwardscatteredthemaboutthecity,destroyingmanyotherhouses.afirestartedbytheseshellsformedagreatgapbetweentheruedesjacobinsandtheruedestroiscailloux,wheretherehadbeenanarcadeandmanygoodshopsandhouses.isawthefiressmolderingaboutcharredbeamsandtwistedironworkwheniwentthroughthecityafterthedayofexodus.