It was a march that appeared to us to last a century, and certainly Dante's imagination, in his visions of hell, never surpassed the horrors of it. The passage was narrow and skirted the parapet of the Yser. Its access was so difficult and trying, that it was no use thinking of removing the dead which obstructed it. We had to imitate the serpent, the toad, and the mole. In order to pass the guard we were relieving, the men had to lie down flat and we had to crawl over them. No one spoke a word. Shrapnels kept exploding and bullets whizzed along continually, flattening themselves against the parapet. I saw some of them ploughing up the earth scarcely twenty centimetres above the heads of my comrades, and I was afraid each time that, in rebounding, they would wound one or another of them. We were all wedged in as though in a vice. At times, we had to advance quickly, bent nearly double, our backs almost broken, at times we had to crawl along, pushing ourselves onward with our elbows and knees, letting go our shields which encumbered us and which, knocking against the sides, made a sonorous noise. When we came to embattlements, watched as we were by the marksmen posted on the other side of the Yser, we had to rush for our lives. Our faces were bathed in perspiration. Suddenly, we came across a dark, motionless mass on the ground. We thought it might be one of the engineers at work.
"Hi there, what are you doing? Answer!" ordered the Lieutenant. Shaking his arm, we found that it dropped lifeless.
"Forward! over the dead man!" was our order. Shuddering, and gasping for breath, we obeyed. Feeling for him with our feet and slipping over his head, we went on our way. Presently we had reached the spot known as "the house in ruins." The parapet had been torn away by a shell, and this might expose us to view. We had to climb and jump at the same time. Horrors! I fell with my hand on the icy face of a dead man. The German Artillery now came into play. The devilish Schoorbakke battery took the dyke by enfilade and bombarded us. The shells arrived whizzing along and bursting with a frightful noise, making the dyke crumble, and sprinkling us with all kinds of rubbish. There was a second's calm. By the livid light of the fuses, a horrible sight was to be seen, living men swarming along the passage among human fragments in a state of decomposition, the most appalling and terrifying wrecks of humanity imaginable. Horror, repulsion, and disgust were what we felt, but we were compelled to master our feelings. We had to be superhuman. The perspiration ran from our faces on to the dead men, as we climbed over them. And over our heads the bullets never ceased pouring down, whilst the shells whizzed along and the fuses kept lighting us up.
Panting and breathless, with our tongues hanging out and our backs aching so painfully that some of our men were just going to stand upright for a moment's relief when they were stopped by the whizzing of bullets overhead. We pushed on again and it seemed as though we should never be at the end of the passage. At one moment, we lost sight of the file and feared that we had passed the post. My brother headed the little group that had become separated from the others, and I closed the march. Fortunately we were able to join our comrades again. Just at this moment, we came to a number of corpses in a worse state than the others. We had to pass over them, our faces almost touching theirs, our knees on their legs. A terrible putrid odour emanated from them, an odour that will always be an infernal memory. Again we found ourselves knocking against some human bodies. But this time we were crawling over living men. Finally, we arrived at our post. What a relief it was to us! Our end had been accomplished. We had relieved the guard and not one of us had been hit. Our instructions were simple. We had to keep a lookout and defend ourselves in case of attack. We thought we should have nothing to fear from the German Artillery, as their own post was so near. The one thing was to escape bombs and grenades. When the service was organised, we hollowed out some shallow burrows to serve as shelters. The Lieutenant passed me a bottle and told me to disinfect a dead man buried in the trench, whose shoulder was visible.
In order to prevent the Boches from approaching, we fired over the parapet all night without showing ourselves. Towards 4.30, when the dawn was breaking, I started off in search of the body I was to disinfect. A few yards away, just at the entrance of the next trench, I found a shapeless mass covered with linen. Was this the one? After a moment's hesitation, I raised the garment which covered a figure and saw a face. The features had not changed and the man looked as though he were asleep. I sprinkled the body with the liquid which the Lieutenant had given me and covered it again gently. The second corpse, of which the Lieutenant had spoken, was a little farther on. The shoulder was rather above the parapet. We covered it with earth and, towards six o'clock, the stretcher-bearers arrived to take the two dead men away. This was such a dangerous task, however, that the Lieutenant would not allow them to carry it out. They took away the other dead bodies and that made it less difficult to get out of the trench. By means of the periscope, I now looked at the German trenches, and thereupon that instrument became a target for their bullets. Projectiles now began to arrive from behind us. We wondered what this meant, and the Lieutenant sent word to Sergeant Denis, who was at the last post but one. We were informed that Sergeant Denis had just been killed by a bullet in the head. On passing by an embattlement, someone had called out to him to stoop down, but it was too late, a bullet had killed him instantaneously. Poor Sergeant Denis. Yesterday evening, when I crawled over him, he said to me: "Good-bye, I shall see you again soon." I wondered, in spite of myself, whether the fate in store for me might make his words prove true. He had fallen against Corporal G——, without uttering a word, but his eyes had been fixed earnestly on him. We can only hope that the Company will not have to deplore other losses.
I took notes, thanks to the periscope, and I fired from an embattlement through a German embattlement. The enemy was not long in replying with dumdums, destroying our embattlement over which were the upper sacks of the parapet. On the other side of the Yser in the German trench, I could distinguish a Boche periscope, and I was quite amazed to see a soldier's bust above the parapet. He did not stay there long. There was a long, soft, whizzing sound. This was something fresh: floo-oo-floo-oo—. They were grenades, some of which burst over our shelters, and some beyond them. Only a few were thrown and, dismal though their noise was, it did not alarm us.
It was a beautiful, sunshiny day. Our aircraft could be seen against the blue of the sky. Our machines were pursued by the shrapnels of the Boches but these did them no harm. Our Artillery was firing quite near to us and we had to take shelter from the shell fragments. Some of our men had lost their blankets, and some their provisions, during yesterday's march. They were separated from us by an obstacle. We passed them some food and exchanged some amusing notes. The Lieutenant, by way of a souvenir, took the signature of each occupant of the post, in his note-book. Others followed his example. And the day passed by very, very slowly. Whilst keeping watch, we talked with the Lieutenant about the war, about peace and our respective occupations. We talked about our preferences and our tastes, whilst, only a few yards away, myriads of big flies danced a ghastly saraband around the body of our poor comrade. The heat began to be overpowering: whiffs of warm, nauseous air kept rising and took our appetites away. By way of rewarding us, the Lieutenant promised us each a good glass, if everyone of Post I. returned safe and sound. It certainly would not be our fault if we failed to accept this invitation.
At half-past twelve, the observer on the river bank signalled to us that an officer was on his round. We all smiled, thinking it was a joke. Colonel Rademakers[14] of the 3rd Chasseurs suddenly appeared in the corner of our trench. We were amazed and wondered how he had got there. Had he come up from underground or had he fallen from the skies? Considering his size, it is certain that he could not have come through the passage without having been massacred fifty times over. He was there, nevertheless, and very much alive, his fine face expressive of his natural gaiety and of his great courage. He looked through the periscope, wondering whether the Boches would honour him with a bullet. He certainly was an officer of the "right sort."
Night came on and the embattlement that had been discovered had its place changed, and was strengthened by a shield. We kept a still stricter watch. Towards 9.30, the firing became violent. A quantity of explosive shells burst on our parapet and gave us the impression that the Boches were on our trench and were firing point blank at us, so violent was the dry sound of the explosions. In our post, two of our guns would not fire any more. An attack seemed imminent. We prepared our bayonets and then fired without ceasing. One of our comrades who was completely worn out, and could not stand, was seated near us loading the guns for us to fire. It was midnight when the relief guard arrived. The orders were given while we continued firing. "Keep a watch on the bank. Attention at that battlement! On guard! Good luck!"
Our return was safely effected, but not without difficulty. It was easier than our coming had been, as most of the dead men had been evacuated. Finally, we were out of that hell once more. The whole post was safe and sound. Shrapnels were bursting quite near to us and here, in the first line trenches, where we had had to hide and press against the parapet yesterday, we felt that we were almost in security. We wanted to halt in the very midst of the danger zone, to get our breath, but the officers begged us to be prudent and we left the trenches. In the distance, we saw the stretcher-bearers carrying away the body of poor Sergeant Denis to the Lesenburg Cemetery.