"You'll see!" he said. "You don't realise that all that eats away and undermines.... It is bound to show itself in time!"
It was true enough! What a difference there was in the morale of the two platoons.
In ours, for instance, nobody ever reported sick unless he was suffering tortures. They made it a point of personal pride. In theirs, on the contrary! One morning, Guillaumin, who was sergeant of the day, had put down eight men for medical parade. A mere trifle! He calmly undertook to cure them all by suggestion. His chief argument was that they would have to foot it for about five and a half miles, to reach the Medical Officer. Five of the men had their names scratched; the rest stuck to it. It happened to be one of Bouchut's bad days and he sent them all off with a flea in their ear.
And when we stormed Beauclair, what a tragic exhibition they gave of themselves. When we left the wood in extended order, ready to charge, we looked round for No. 1 platoon, which was to support us on our right. Not a sign of it to be seen. It made a cruel impression on us just as we were starting off with fixed bayonets. At last we saw Lieutenant Delafosse come out leading a handful of men, among them De Valpic and his half-section. Behind, a long way behind, was Humel. We charged and saw no more of them. In the uproar which followed upon the occupation of the village, the incident passed more or less unnoticed. But we learnt that the C.O. had rated Delafosse for it roundly. The latter, throwing off his reserve, frankly laid the blame on some of his N.C.O.'s who lacked go.... That was putting the case very mildly! De Valpic assured me that he had heard Descroix putting the drag on his men's eagerness. "Don't hurry lads! The first lot will be napoohed!"
Here again no penalties were inflicted; they would have been too terrible. The well-known sentence for every weakness in military law is: DEATH.
This leniency was perhaps to be blamed. Who can say what an ill-omened influence our comrades exercised during the days that followed? It was the most gloomy period of all. We abandoned first-rate positions without fighting. It was impossible to rely on any favourable information, however slight. Rumours circulated, and were added to, concerning our reverse in the North. The replenishment of munitions which had up till then been well-organised was failing. We were, as I have said, repeatedly in danger of being cut off, or of getting under fire from the pursuing batteries. Villages blazed behind us, or even on our flank—a palpable danger for our retreat. The ditches too were filled with soldiers, belonging chiefly to the regulars. Who could blame them for it? Boys of twenty, worn out by four weeks' overdriving, sleeping there, by the roadsides, for days and nights on end.
It was a bad example though. The temptation to copy them was so great. There were no more mounted police on the heels of the stragglers. Even they were fighting, so we were told.
That was how our numbers dwindled. We had realised the danger, and our efforts were combined in preventing any men from staying behind. We kept on urging them: "Come along now! Only a few miles more. You surely don't want to fall into the hands of the Huns!" And we laid to their charge abominable atrocities surpassed by reality.
At last we reached our goal. We lost only five men out of the platoon during that week, two of whom were ill, and two wounded. What leakage there was in No. 1 company! We got the exact figures from the quartermaster-sergeant, who had to draw up the numerical returns each evening. Breton stormed, excellent fellow that he was!
"Hang it all! Poilus are too precious to lose!"