CHAPTERIV

chapteriv

justatfirst—thoughnotforlong—therewasatouchofhostilityagainstusamongdivisionalandbrigadestaffs,oftheregulars,butnotofthenewarmy.they,too,suspectedourmotiveingoingtotheirquarters,wonderedwhyweshouldcome“spyingaround,”tryingto“seethings.”iwasfaintlyconsciousofthisonedayinthoseveryearlytimes,whenwiththeofficerwhohadbeenarulerinindiaiwenttoabrigadeheadquartersofthe1stdivisionnearvermelles.itwasnoteasynorpleasanttogetthere,thoughitwasasummerdaywithfleecycloudsinabluesky.therewasalongstraightroadleadingtothevillageofvermelles,withacrisscrossofcommunicationtrenchesononeside,and,ontheother,fieldswherecornandgrassgrewranklyinabandonedfields.someleansheepwerebrowsingthereasthoughthiswerearcadyindaysofpeace.itwasnot.theredruinsofvermelles,amileorsoaway,weresharplydefined,asthroughstereoscopiclenses,inthequiverofsunlight,andhadthesinisterlookofadeath-hauntedplace.itwaswherethefrenchhadfoughttheirwaythroughgardens,walls,andhousesinmurderousbattle,beforeleavingitforbritishtroopstohold.acrossitnowcamethewhineofshells,andisawthatshrapnelbulletswerekickingupthedustofathousandyardsdownthestraightroad,followingasmallbodyofbrownmenwhosetrampoffeetraisedanothercloudofdust,likesmoke.theyweretheonlyrepresentativesofhumanlife—besidesourselves—inthisloneliness,thoughmanymenmusthavebeeninhidingsomewhere.thenheavy“crumps”burstinthefieldswherethesheepwerebrowsing,acrossthewaywehadtogotothebrigadeheadquarters.

“howaboutit?”askedthecaptainwithme.“idon'tlikecrossingthatfield,inspiteofthebuttercupsanddaisiesandthelittlefriskylambs.”

“ihatetheideaofit,”isaid.

thenwelookeddowntheroadatthelittlebodyofbrownmen.theywerenearernow,andicouldseethefaceoftheofficerleadingthem—aboysubaltern,ratherpalethoughthesunwashot.hehaltedandsalutedmycompanion.

“theenemyseemstohavesightedourdust,sir.hisshrapnelisfollowingupprettyclosely.wouldyouadvisemetoputmymenundercover,orcarryon?”

thecaptainhesitated.thiswasratheroutsidehissphereofinfluence.buttheboyishnessoftheotherofficeraskedforhelp.

“myadviceistoputyourmenintothatditchandkeepthemthereuntilthestrafeisover.”someshrapnelbulletswhippedthesun-bakedroadashespoke.

“verygood,sir.”

themensatintheditch,withtheirpacksagainstthebank,andwipedthesweatofftheirfaces.theylookedtiredanddispirited,butnotalarmed.

inthefieldsbehindthem—ourway—the4.2's(four—point-twos)werebusyingholesinthegrassandflowers,ratherdeepholes,fromwhichwhitesmoke-cloudsroseafterexplosivenoises.

“withalittlecarefulstrategywemightgetthrough,”saidthecaptain.“there'sageneralwaitingforus,andihavenoticedthatgeneralsareimpatientfellows.let'stryourluck.”

wewalkedacrossthewildflowers,pastthesheep,whoonlyraisedtheirheadsinmeeksurprisewhenshellscamewithashrill,intensifyingsnarlandburroweduptheearthaboutthem.inoticedhowloudlyandsweetlythelarksweresingingupintheblue.severalhorseslaydead,newlykilled,withbloodoozingaboutthem,andtheirentrailssmoking.wemadeahalf-looparoundthemandthenstruckstraightforthechateauwhichwasthebrigadeheadquarters.neitherofusspokenow.wewerethoughtful,calculatingthechanceofgettingtothatred-brickhousebetweentheshells.itwasjustdependentonthecoincidenceoftimeandplace.

threemenjumpedupfromaditchbelowabrownwallroundthechateaugardenandranhardforthegateway.ashellhadpitchedquiteclosetothem.onemanlaughedasthoughatagrotesquejoke,andfellashereachedthecourtyard.smokewasrisingfromtheouthouses,andtherewasaclatteroftilesandtimbers,afteranexplosivecrash.

“itratherlooks,”saidmycompanion,“asthoughthegermansknewthereisapartyoninthatcharminghouse.”

itwasasgoodtogoonastogoback,anditwasnevergoodtogobackbeforereachingone'sobjective.thatwasbadforthedisciplineofthecouragethatisjustbeyondfear.

twogunnerswerekilledinthebackyardofthechateau,andaswewentinthroughthegatewayasergeantmadeaquickjumpforabarnasashellburstsomewhereclose.asvisitorswehesitatedbetweentwowaysintothechateau,andchosetheeasier;anditwasthenthatibecamedimlyawareofhostilityagainstmeonthepartofanumberofofficersinthefronthall.thebrigadestaffwasthere,groupedunderthebanisters.iwonderedwhy,andguessed(rightly,asifound)thatthecenterofthehousemighthaveabetterchanceofescapethantheroomsoneitherside,incaseofdirecthitsfromthosethingsfallingoutside.

itwasthebrigademajorwhoaskedourbusiness.hewasatall,handsomeyoungmanofsomethingoverthirty,withthearroganceofachristchurchblood.

“oh,hehascomeouttoseesomethinginvermelles?apleasantplaceforsightseeing!meanwhilethehunisrangingonthishouse,sohemayseemorethanhewants.”

heturnedonhisheelandrejoinedhisgroup.theyallstaredinmydirectionasthoughatacuriousanimal.averyyounggentleman—thegeneral'sa.d.c.—madeafunnyremarkatmyexpenseandtheotherslaughed.thentheyignoredme,andiwasglad,andmadealittlestudyinthepsychologyofmenawaitingaclosecallofdeath.iwasperfectlyconsciousmyselfthatinamomentortwosomeofus,perhapsallofus,mightbeinapulpofmangledfleshbeneaththeruinsofared-brickvilla—theshellswerecrashingamongtheouthousesandinthecourtyard,andtheenemywasmakinggoodshooting—andtheideadidnotpleasemeatall.atthebackofmybrainwasfear,andtherewasacoldsweatinthepalmsofmyhands;butiwasmasterofmyself,andirememberhavingasenseofsatisfactionbecauseihadansweredthebrigademajorinalevelvoice,withatouchofhisownarrogance.isawthattheseofficerswereafraid;thatthey,too,hadfearatthebackofthebrain,andthattheirconversationandlaughterwerethecamouflageofthesoul.thefaceoftheyounga.d.c.wasflushedandhelaughedtoomuchathisownjokes,andhislaughterwasjustatonetooshrill.anofficercameintothehall,carryingtwomillsbombs—newtoysinthosedays—andtheothersfellbackfromhim,andonesaid:

“forchrist'ssakedon'tbringthemhere—inthemiddleofabombardment!”

“where'sthegeneral?”askedthenewcomer.

“downinthecellarwiththeotherbrigadier.theydon'taskusdowntotea,inotice.”

thoselastwordscausedalltheofficerstolaugh—almostexcessively.buttheirlaughterendedsharply,andtheylistenedintentlyastherewasaheavycrashoutside.

anotherofficercameupthestepsandmadearapidentryintothehall.

“iunderstandthereistobeaconferenceofbattalioncommanders,”hesaid,withaqueercatchinhisbreath.“inviewofthis—er—bombardment,ihadbettercomeinlater,perhaps?”

“youhadbetterwait,”saidthebrigademajor,rathergrimly.

“oh,certainly.”

asergeant-majorwaspacingupanddownthepassagebythebackdoor.hewascalmandstolid.ilikedthelookofhimandfoundsomethingcomfortinginhispresence,sothatiwenttohaveafewwordswithhim.

“howlongisthislikelytolast,sergeant-major.”

“there'snosaying,sir.theymaybesearchingforthechateautopassthetime,sotospeak,ortheymaygoontilltheygetit.i'msorrytheycaughtthosegunners.nicelads,bothofthem.”

hedidnotseemtobeworryingabouthisownchance.

thensuddenlytherewassilence.thegermangunshadswitchedoff.iheardthelarkssingingthroughtheopendoorway,andallthelittlesoundsofasummerday.thegroupofofficersinthehallstartedchattingmorequietly.therewasnomoreneedoffindingjokesandlaughter.theyhadbeenreprieved,andcouldbeserious.

“we'dbettergetforwardtovermelles,”saidmycompanion.

aswewalkedawayfromthechateau,thebrigademajorpassedusonhishorse.heleanedoverhissaddletowardmeandsaid,“gooddaytoyou,andihopeyou'lllikevermelles.”

thewordswerecivil,buttherewasanunderlyingmeaninginthem.

“ihopetodoso,sir.”

wewalkeddownthelongstraightroadtowardtheruinsofvermelleswithayoungsoldier-guidewhoontheoutskirtsofthevillageremarkedinacasualway:

“nooneisallowedalongthisroadindaylight,asarule.it'sunderhobservationofthehenemy.”

“thenwhythedevildidyoucomethisway?”askedmycompanion.

“ithoughtyoumightprefertheshortcut,sir.”

weexploredtheruinsofvermelles,wheremanyyoungfrenchmenhadfalleninfightingthroughthewallsandgardens.onecouldseethetrackoftheirstrife,intrampledbushesandbrokenwalls.bitsofredrag—theredpantaloonsofthefirstfrenchsoldiers—werestillfastenedtobramblesandbarbedwire.brokenrifles,cartouches,water-bottles,tornletters,twistedbayonets,andgermanstick-bombslitteredtheditcheswhichhadbeendugastrenchesacrossstreetsofburned-outhouses.