That march without halt or respite had led us to the neighbourhood of St. Mihiel. There was some talk of our being told off for the active defence of Toul. But the next day found us reascending toward the north-east. All the same ground to cover again. We made the best of a bad job.
We passed close to Génicourt for the second time. Henriot made no more requests, but his gaze lingered sadly on those roofs separated from us by the river; and from that day a secret spring seemed to have snapped in him.
After another hard day's march we again reached the Meuse which we had left behind the day before, in order to cut south of Verdun.
The river was not very broad at this point, only twenty yards or so, nor very deep, and there were numerous fords. The night was falling. The liquid sheet seemed heavier and darker than usual. Guillaumin who was the first to go down to the bank shouted to me:
"I say, the water's red!"
I was loath to believe it; and yet ... I joined him and plunged my hand into it, and then drew it out. These dark stains—must be a bloody deposit! How horrible! I hurriedly wiped my hand on the grass. The rushes washed by the current were soiled in a like manner. Those shapeless masses floating below the surface, if one looked hard, turned out to be corpses!
Had there been fighting on these banks? No, up-stream, we learnt. Furious attempts on the part of the Germans to force this important piece of line. They had sustained terrible losses. Their bodies, we were told, obstructed the course of the river; it could be crossed dry-shod.
We stayed there that night and the next morning—a repulsive halting place. An acrid odour rose from this charnel stream.
We luckily had a tale of victory to lull us to sleep: the enemy shattering themselves against the obstacle; artillerymen filing off mad with joy caressing their guns. One of their captains boasted that he had demolished more than six thousand Bosches with his four batteries. How could we question such feats of prowess while a never-ending stream of human relics floated past on the stream at our feet? The best proof of our success arrived in the shape of an order to recross the Meuse and advance again.
A few miles recovered! I greeted with a friendly glance the lovely hills and valleys that saw us again so soon, as victors.