The success of such a speech was instantaneous. A few of our prisoners were thunderstruck; others with difficulty hid their smiles, through fear of what might happen, while the rest could not contain themselves, but frankly burst out laughing.
A new German defeat was thus registered. From that day the mention of the simple expression: “Be sad!” was sufficient to dissipate the “blues” and transform a face of sadness into one of mirth.
CHAPTER IV
HE had been wounded at the beginning of the campaign, at the time when nothing could stop the invading hordes, and much too soon for his liking. Powerless to escape from the field of battle, he soon saw himself a prisoner in the hands of the enemy. He was a sergeant, still young, and on active service when the war broke out. He was taken to a hospital in Westphalia, where he remained too short a time, considering the gravity of his wound. But as the German wounded from Ypres were coming in, in great numbers, he had been turned out and sent to a concentration camp. He arrived there worn out and still suffering from his wounds, but happy to be able at last to hear news of the war—news he had eagerly longed to hear, but which had been jealously kept from him. There he learnt of the battle of the Marne and its happy result for our armies, and his heart rejoiced greatly. If he still remembered the cruel days of the retreat from Belgium, it was to recall pictures which permitted him to imagine the Boches a prey to the sufferings that their too precipitated retreat would bring upon them. Thus the rage he felt in his heart at being made prisoner was slightly calmed. As hope and confidence came back to him our sergeant regained assurance and raised his head. He reasoned in the following manner and found consolation therein: “I am a prisoner, it is certain; but I have done my duty, therefore I need not be ashamed of myself. My countrymen at the present time fight successfully against an enemy superior in numbers and one who has been preparing for a long time to invade; consequently I may be permitted to think of them with pride. I don’t belong to a nation debased by defeat. The French Army guards its rights and prerogatives. Since my soul can never be imprisoned, my thoughts are with those who fight for the good cause, my body alone is captive. And yet, not completely so, since it will never consent to do what my conscience does not approve of.”
So from deduction to deduction he almost persuaded himself that he was free. He was exceedingly proud of being a Frenchman, and, what is more, a French soldier. From this time on, in spite of his wound, he forced himself to walk without limping, holding his head erect. And thus he marched with a noble, almost arrogant air, straight on, without anything being able to stop him, disdainful of the German uniform and its chiefs, for he had sworn to himself never to salute the officers of a nation at war with his country, and one that had permitted such crimes in Belgium.
Orders, however, were strict on this matter, and the heads of the barracks did not fail every day to inflict punishments in the pillory, which punishment certain of our soldiers had incurred for not having saluted a German officer. The punishments imposed for this neglect were announced in huge printed letters in four languages, and revealed to the prisoners the rigours of the German military law.