The Downfall (La Débâcle): A Story of the Horrors of War

by Émile Zola

'Some more meat for the crows!' said Maurice sorrowfully, remembering the horses that he had already seen in such alarming numbers during the first night of his captivity. 'If we remain here many days longer, we shall all be eating one another. Ah! the poor animals.'

The Tuesday proved, indeed, terrible. Jean, who was getting seriously anxious at Maurice's feverish condition, compelled the young fellow to wrap himself in a shred of a blanket which he had purchased from a Zouave for ten francs: whilst, for his own part, with his overcoat soaked like a sponge, he remained all night exposed to the downpour to which there was no cessation. The position under the poplars became untenable, a river of mud was streaming along on all sides, and the earth was so gorged, so saturated, that it now retained the water on its surface in deep puddles. The worst was that the six men had their stomachs empty, their evening meal having been limited to two beets, which for lack of dry wood they had not even been able to cook. And the sweetish roots, fresh though they were to the palate, had developed an insupportable burning sensation in their stomachs. Moreover, dysentery was now breaking out, caused by fatigue, bad living, and incessant dampness. With his back to the trunk of the same tree as Maurice, and with his legs quite under water, Jean stretched out his hand a dozen times that night to make sure that the young fellow had not uncovered himself in his agitated slumber. Since Maurice had saved him from the Prussians, by carrying him in his arms across the plateau of Illy, the corporal had been paying back his debt a hundredfold. Without reasoning what he did, he freely gave himself to Maurice, entirely forgot himself in his affection for him. It was an unmeasured, ever active attachment on the part of this peasant, who was but slightly removed from the soil, and could not even find words to express his feelings. For Maurice, he had already taken food from his own mouth, as the men of the squad expressed it; and now, had there been need of it, he would have given him his skin as a covering, to protect his shoulders, and warm his feet. And amid all the savage egotism that surrounded them, amid the suffering of appetite, maddened by hunger, he was possibly indebted to his self-abnegation for the unexpected advantage that he reaped in retaining his quiet good-humour, and good health; for he alone still gave proof of strength, and lost but little of his wits.

Thus it happened that, after that fearful night, he put into execution an idea that had been haunting him. 'I say, youngster,' said he to Maurice, 'as we get nothing given us to eat, and are being forgotten, so it seems, in this cursed hole, we must bestir ourselves a bit, if we don't want to die of hunger. Can you walk?'

The sun was fortunately shining again and had made Maurice feel quite warm. 'Oh! yes, I can walk well enough,' said he.

'Then we'll go on a journey of discovery. We have some money, and we shall have to be precious unlucky if we don't find something to buy. And we mustn't burden ourselves with the others, they are not straight enough, let them take care of themselves.'

He was, in fact, disgusted with the crafty egotism of Loubet and Chouteau, who stole whatever they could lay their hands on and never shared anything with their comrades. And in the same way there was nothing to be done with either that brute Lapoulle or that black-beetle Pache.

So Jean and Maurice went off by the road which the latter had already followed, alongside the Meuse. The park and house of Glaire Tower were already devastated and pillaged, the lawns ravined as by a storm, the trees felled, and the buildings invaded. A crowd of ragged, mud-splashed soldiers, with hollow cheeks and eyes that glittered with fever, were camping there in gipsy fashion, living like wolves in the filthy rooms, which they were afraid to leave lest they should lose their places for the night. On the slopes farther on Jean and Maurice passed through the cavalry and artillery, formerly so smart and jaunty, but now sadly down-fallen, disorganised by the torture of hunger which maddened the horses and scattered the men over the fields in plundering bands. Outside the mill, on their right hand, they saw a procession of artillerymen and Chasseurs d'Afrique slowly defiling along: the miller was selling them flour at the rate of a franc for every two handfuls which he emptied into their handkerchiefs. The fear, however, of having to wait too long for any of this, induced Jean and Maurice to proceed farther on; besides they hoped that they might find something better in the village of Iges. And they were in consternation when they had visited the hamlet and found it bare and desolate, just like some Algerian village after a flight of locusts has fallen upon it. Not a crumb remained there, neither bread, nor vegetables, nor meat; it was as though the wretched houses had been scraped bare with the finger nails. It appeared that General Lebrun had taken up his quarters at the mayor's. To facilitate the provisioning of the troops he had vainly endeavoured to organise a system of tickets, the value of which would have been reimbursed by the State after the war; but no provisions were obtainable, money was utterly useless. On the previous day a biscuit had fetched two francs, a bottle of wine seven francs, a small liqueur glass of brandy one franc,[38] and a pipeful of tobacco half a franc. And now officers had to mount guard over the general's quarters and the adjacent hovels, with drawn swords, for frequent bands of prowlers burst open the cottage doors, stealing even the colza oil from the lamps and drinking it!

Three Zouaves called to Maurice and Jean in the idea that if five of them banded together they might bring some enterprise or other to success. 'Come with us!' they cried. 'There are some horses kicking the bucket, and if we could only get some dry wood——'

But Maurice and Jean did not go, and the Zouaves rushed upon a peasant's house, broke open the cupboards and tore the thatch off the roof. Some officers, however, came up at a run, threatening them with their revolvers, and put them to flight.

Finding the few people who had remained at Iges as wretched and as hungry as the soldiers themselves, Jean regretted that he had disdained the flour at the mill: 'We must go back, perhaps there's still some left,' said he.