Part 6

In single file we went quickly down towards the plain by the stony, slippery path. We soon reached the high-road, and then turned to the left and came upon the long causeway bordered by poplars which led to the bridge. Quite close to the bank I saw a small group of dismounted cavalrymen, and soon recognised our Colonel with his Brigade Staff. He was giving his orders to the Lieutenant-Colonel commanding the _Chasseurs d'Afrique_. I went up to him to report, and learnt that the first squadron had already crossed the river and occupied the village on the other side. Some parties of German cavalry had been seen on the neighbouring heights.

I got ready to rejoin my comrades at once. But patience was required if the Marne was to be crossed. The bridge appeared to be a delicate sort of toy hovering over the water. How could they dream of sending thousands of men, horses, and guns over a thing so slender that it looked as though it were supported by the fragile meshes of a spider's web? Captain D. gave me the Colonel's precise orders: not to pass more than four troopers at a time, and these at walking pace.

Taking the initiative in the movement, I started with my first four Chasseurs. The bridge rang strangely under our horses' hoofs, and seemed to me to oscillate in an alarming manner. Fortunately the enemy was not on the other side; if he had been, our passage would have cost us dear.

As I was making these reflections a violent fusillade burst out from the edge of the woods overlooking Jaulgonne to the east. It must have been directed upon the village, for no bullets whistled around us, so it was probably our first squadron engaging the German cavalry. When I got to the other end of the bridge my impatience increased. It was torture to think of the time it would take to collect my thirty men and hurry forward to help the others; and I noticed the same impatience in my men's looks. Those who were on the bridge, walking slowly and gently across, seemed to implore me to let them trot; but I pretended not to understand, and the horses' feet continued to trample heavily over the echoing bridge. At last all my men were over.

We fell in and reached Jaulgonne at a trot. On passing through it we found several of the inhabitants on their doorsteps:

"_Monsieur l'Officier_, ... _Monsieur l'Officier_, will they come back again?"

"Never!" I shouted, with conviction.

I stopped an orderly, who told me that the German cavalry were firing on the exit from the town. How many of them he could not say, as they were hidden in the woods. He told me, too, that the first squadron was holding all the entrances to the north and east of the village except the one on the river bank on the road to Marcilly, where my comrade F. had posted his troop. I decided then to put myself at the disposal of the party defending the chief exit from the village, the one that opened into the road to Fismes. It was the most important one, for it was in that direction that the Germans were retiring.

The village had been prevented from spreading further to the north by the heights, which formed an abrupt barrier. It is built astride the road to Fismes, which thus becomes its principal, if not its only, street. I had then to go right through Jaulgonne before I could get out of it in the direction of the firing. I soon did this, and found the horses of the first squadron massed in the short alleys leading out of the main street. I ordered my troop to dismount in a yard much too small and very inconvenient. But the first thing to do was to clear the causeway and shelter our horses from bullets, which might enfilade the street if the fighting bore away towards the left. Then, whilst a non-commissioned officer collected the squads for the action on foot, I ran as far as the furthest houses of the village to reconnoitre the ground and get orders.

I spied Major P. in a sheltered nook, still mounted, and he told me of his anxiety about the situation. The enemy riflemen were invisible, and were riddling the outskirts of the village, while we were unable to reply; and some guns had been seen which were being got into position. He advised me to go and see the captain of the first squadron, who had been ordered to defend that entrance of the village, and to place myself at his disposal in case of need.

Whilst we were talking, my troop, led by its non-commissioned officer, came to the place where we were, edging along by the walls. The men, calm and smiling, with their carbines ready, waited in silence for the signal to advance. I signed to them to wait a little longer, and then going round the wall I found myself suddenly in the thick of the fray. I must say the reception I got startled me. The bullets came rattling in hundreds, chipping the walls and cutting branches from the trees. On our side there was absolute silence. Our men, on their knees or lying flat behind any cover they could find, did not reply, as they could see nothing, and waited stoically under the shower of bullets until their adversaries chose to advance.

I looked for Captain de L., who commanded the first squadron. There he was, standing with his face to the enemy, and his hands in his pockets, quietly giving his orders to a non-commissioned officer. On my asking him if he wanted me, he explained the situation: the enemy, numbers unknown, was occupying the woods overlooking Jaulgonne to the east. It was impossible for us to debouch just yet. The essential thing was to hold the village, and consequently the bridge, until our infantry could come up. He told me that the first troop of my squadron, led by Lieutenant d'A., had just advanced, in extended order, into the vineyards, orchards, and fields stretching between the road and the river. He was going to reconnoitre the woods and see what kind of force was holding it.

"You see, dear fellow, for the present I don't want the help of your carbines; I have my whole squadron here, and they can't get a shot. So long as the enemy sticks to the wood all we can do is to wait and keep our powder dry."

I put my troop under shelter in a small yard, and directed my non-commissioned officer to keep in touch with me, in case I might want him. Then I went back to the outskirts of the village to examine the ground. I then joined my friend S. behind a large heap of faggots: he commanded the nearest troop of the first squadron, and we could not help laughing at the curious situation--being formed up for battle, fronting the enemy, under a hail of bullets, and not able to see anything.

During the campaign S. had become a philosopher, and he deserved some credit for it; for the great moral and physical sufferings we had endured must have been even still more insupportable to him than to any of us. In the regiment, S. was considered preeminently the Society officer. He went to all the receptions, all the afternoon teas, all the bridge parties, all the dinners. He was an adept at tennis and golf and a first-rate shot. His elegance was proverbial, and the beautiful cut of his tunics, breeches, jackets, and coats was universally admired. The way his harness was kept and the shape of his high boots were a marvel. To say all this is to give some idea of the change he suddenly experienced in his habits and his tastes during those demoralising days of retreat and merciless hours of pursuit. But, in spite of all, he had kept his good humour and never lost his gay spirits. He still accompanied his talk with elaborate gestures, and seemed to be just as much at ease behind his heap of wood, bombarded with bullets, as in the best appointed drawing-room. His clothes were stained and patched, his beard had begun to grow, and yet under this rough exterior the polished man of the world could always be divined.

He explained the beginnings of the affair with perfect clearness and self-possession; how the scouts sent up to the ridge by d'A. and driven off by the Germans had fallen back upon Jaulgonne; how the first squadron had come to barricade and defend the village, and in what anxiety they were waiting to know what had become of d'A.'s troop, which had started out to reconnoitre the wood.

We hoisted ourselves to the top of the faggot-stack and peeped over carefully. The glaring white road wound up the flank of the slope between fields dotted with apple trees. At a distance of 800 yards in front of us stretched the dark border of the wood, from which the fusillade was coming. To our right, at the edge of the water, on the road leading to Marcilly, F. must have been able to see the enemy, for we could distinctly hear the crackle of his carbines.

Our attention was drawn to a man of F.'s troop running along under the wall, bending almost double to escape the attention of the sniper, and endeavouring to screen himself behind the high grass. As soon as he came near enough we called out:

"What is it?"

"The Lieutenant has sent me to say that the enemy has just placed some guns in position up there, in the opening of the wood."

Saying which, he pointed vaguely in a direction where we could see nothing. However, we knew that F. would not have warned us if he had not been quite certain of the fact, so for some unpleasant minutes we wondered what the enemy's objective was. We longed to know, at once, where the projectiles were going to burst. Would it be on F.'s troop, or on the bridge, or on the infantry, which, perhaps, were beginning to debouch, or, perhaps, on that portion of the brigade that had remained dismounted on the left bank, drawn up for action? The uncertainty was worse than the danger itself. But we were not long in doubt. Two shrieks of flying shells! Two explosions about 300 yards in front of us! Two puffs of white smoke rising above the green fields! This showed they had an objective we had not considered, namely, d'A.'s troop, for the shrapnel had burst in the direction he had just taken with his men.

Our anxiety did not last long. We soon made out our Chasseurs, coming back quietly, not running, and in good order. They took to the ditch, a fairly deep one, which ran along on the left side of the road, and covered them up to the middle. The German shells were badly aimed, and exploded either in front of them or higher up on the hillside. But our anxiety became more intense every minute. Had a shell fallen on the road or in the ditch, we should have seen those brave fellows knocked over, mown down, cut to pieces, by the hail of bullets. When we are fighting ourselves we hardly have time to think about our neighbours in this way. We have our own cares, and our first thought is the safety of the men who form our little family, the troop. But when one is safe, or fairly so, it is torture to watch comrades advancing under the enemy's fire without any protection. At that moment the Germans were concentrating their fire upon that small line of men we were looking at, 200 yards away from us. The shells succeeded one another uninterruptedly, but without any greater precision. We watched our friends coming nearer until they had almost reached our barricade, and noticed that two of the Chasseurs were being supported by their comrades. In our anxiety, we got up out of shelter, but d'A. shouted: "It's nothing; only scratches...."

At last they got in, and whilst our good and indefatigable Assistant-Surgeon P. took charge of the wounded men we pressed round the officer and questioned him as to what he had seen. "Are there many of them?" "Was there any infantry?" we asked. But his daring reconnaissance had not been very fruitful. He had had to stop when the artillery had opened fire on him, and had not been able to see how many adversaries we had to deal with.

Acting on the advice of Major P., our Captain, who had just rejoined us with the third troop, gave orders to mount. We were only in the way here, where there were too many defenders already, so recrossed the bridge to put ourselves at the Colonel's disposal. I led with my troop, and we passed through Jaulgonne by the main street. The inhabitants thought we were beating a retreat and became uneasy. Some women uttered cries, begging us not to leave them at the mercy of the enemy. We had to calm them by saying that they need not fear, that we were still holding the Germans, that our infantry would soon arrive, and that in an hour the foe would have decamped.

To tell the truth, we were not quite so sure of it ourselves. The enemy was in some force, and he had guns. Our infantry had at least 15 kilometres to march before their advance guard even could debouch on the bridge at Jaulgonne. If they had not started before dawn they would not arrive before eleven o'clock, and it was then barely nine. The German artillery was already beginning to fire upon the village.

Suddenly, as we reached the market-place, we saw a group of three dismounted Chasseurs emerging from an alley that ran down steeply to the Marne. They belonged to F.'s troop. Two of them were supporting the third, whom we at once recognised. It was Laurent, a fine fellow, and a favourite with the whole squadron. It went to our hearts to see him. His left eye was nothing but a red patch, from which blood was flowing freely, drenching his clothing. He was moaning softly and, blinded by the blood, allowed himself to be led like a child. The corporal with him explained: "A bullet went in just over his eye. I don't know if the eye itself was hit."

The Captain sprang off his horse. "Cheer up, Laurent, it shall be attended to at once. Perhaps it will be nothing, my man. Come with me, we will take you to the Red Cross ambulance close by."

Then between his groans the wounded man said a thing I shall not easily forget: "_Mon Capitaine_, ... haven't they taken away their guns yet?"

He still took an interest in the battle. I heard afterwards that F. had sighted the German guns, and that the fire of his troop had been directed upon them. Laurent would have liked to hear that they had been driven away. He was carried off to the ambulance. I went on towards the bridge; the cannon and rifle fire still raged fiercely, but none of the shots reached the bank where we were. We had to repeat the trying process of crossing the swaying bridge by fours at walking pace. I led off with four troopers. It was not so tedious this time, as my eyes were distracted by the view of the green meadows on the opposite side.

The Colonel had disposed the brigade in such a way that he could concentrate his fire upon the bridge and the opposite bank in case we could not maintain our position there. A squadron on our left, concealed in a sand quarry, was directing its fire upon the heights where the German artillery was posted. Both up and down stream the _Chasseurs d'Afrique_ lined the river banks, making use of every scrap of cover. Peeping out over trunks of fallen trees, banks, and ditches inquisitive heads could be seen wearing the khaki _taconnet_. But my troubles were not yet over. Just as I was going to step ashore from the bridge, Captain D. brought me the Colonel's orders to recross the river with my whole squadron and occupy a clump of houses to the left of the bridge. It was evidently a wise precaution. Although no firing had come from this direction, it was quite possible that some of the enemy might have slipped through the woods that come half-way down the slopes. But I did not expect such a bad time as I was going to have.

At the very moment when I was turning back, and was beginning the hateful passage for the third time, the enemy gunners, changing their objective, aimed at the bridge, and the shrapnel bullets began their disturbing music once more. Could any situation be more execrable than ours--to be upon a bridge as thin as a thread, hanging as by a miracle over a deep river, to see this bridge enfiladed by heavy musketry fire and to be obliged to walk our horses over the 200 yards which separated one bank from the other? If we had been on foot, so that we could have run and expended our strength in getting under cover--since we could not use it to defend ourselves--we should not have complained. But to be mounted on good horses, which in a few galloping strides could have carried us behind the rampart of houses, and to be obliged to hold them back instead of spurring them on, was very unpleasant, and made us feel foolish.

I looked at the four brave Chasseurs in front of me. They instinctively put up their shoulders as high as they could as if to hide their heads between them. But not one of them increased his pace. Not one of them looked round at me to beg me to give orders for a quicker advance. And what a concert was going on all the time! Whilst the horses' hoofs were beating out low and muffled notes, the bullets flew above us and around us, with shrill cracklings and whistlings which were anything but harmonious. Happily the firing was distant and disgracefully bad, for at the pace we were travelling we must have offered a very convenient mark. Another 20 yards! Ten more! At last we were safely under cover!

I communicated the Colonel's orders to the Captain, who came to join us, and directed us to occupy the little garden of a fair-sized house situated just on the edge of the Marne and the most advanced of the small group of buildings on the left-hand side of the bridge. After lodging the horses in an alley between the house and an adjoining shanty I went to reconnoitre my ground. The house was a rustic restaurant, which in the summer no doubt afforded the inhabitants an object for a walk. On passing along the terrace leading to the river I found the disorder usual in places that have been occupied by the Germans; tables overturned, bottles broken, the musty smell of empty casks, and broken crockery.

The little garden did not offer much protection for my men. However, crouching behind a kind of breastwork of earth, which shut it off from the woods, they were able, at least, to hide themselves from view. I at once posted my sharpshooters, sent out a patrol on foot as far as the entrance to the wood, and then turned my attention to what was happening near the bridge.

Whilst I was busy carrying out the Captain's orders I had not noticed that the situation had undergone a decided change, and that our chances of being able to complete our task thoroughly had increased considerably. The German guns were no longer aiming at the village. Their fire had become more rapid, and their shrapnel flew hissing over the brigade. We could see them bursting much further off, on the other side of the water, in the direction of the woods crowning the heights whence, in the morning, I had admired the smiling landscape. I inferred then that the advance guard of our corps was debouching. In half an hour it would be there, and the German cavalry, we felt sure, would not hold out much longer.

But our fine infantry had done more than this. They had, no doubt, found good roads, or perhaps the German gunners, hypnotised by the village, had not spied them. For I had now the pleasure of witnessing one of the most exhilarating spectacles I had seen since the opening of the campaign.

From where I stood on the bank I could see the thin line of the bridge above. I did not think that any one would risk crossing it now that it was known to be a mark for the enemy's fire, but suddenly I saw five men appear and begin to cross it. I could distinguish them perfectly; they were infantry soldiers, an officer and four men. The officer walked first, calmly, with a stick under his right arm, and in his left hand a map which formed a white patch on his blue coat, and behind him the men, in single file, bending slightly under their knapsacks, their caps pushed back and holding their rifles, marched firmly and steadily. They might have been on parade. Their legs could be distinguished for a moment against the blue sky. Their step was so regular that I could not help counting: one, two; one, two, as their feet struck the bridge. But just at the moment when the little group had got half-way across, a hiss, followed by a deafening explosion, made our hearts beat, and we heard the curious noise made by innumerable bullets and pieces of shell striking the water. The Germans had seen our infantry beginning to cross the river, and they were now pouring their fire upon the bridge. I looked again at the men, and saw they were there, all five of them, still marching with the same cool, resolute step: one, two; one, two. Ah! the brave fellows! How I wanted to cheer them, to shout "Bravo!" But they were too far off, and the noise of the fusillade would have prevented them from hearing me.

No sooner had they reached the bank than another little group stepped on to the narrow bridge, and then, after them, another; and each was saluted by one or two shells, with the same heavy rain of bullets falling into the water. But Providence protected our soldiers. The outline of the bridge was very slight, and the gunners of the German cavalry divisions were sorry marksmen. Their projectiles always burst either too far or too near, too high or too low. And as soon as a hundred men had got across, and the first sharpshooters had clambered up the heights that rise sheer from the river and begun to debouch upon the plateau, there was a sudden silence. The enemy's cavalry had given way, and our _corps d'armée_ was free to pass the Marne by the bridge of Jaulgonne.

The entire battalion of the advance guard then began to pour over the bridge on their way to the plateau. Our brigade was quickly got together, and our Chasseurs hastened to water their horses. Out came the nosebags from the saddlebags. A few minutes later no one would have suspected that fighting had taken place at this spot. The men hurriedly got their snack, for we knew the halt would not last long, and that the pursuit had to be pushed till daylight failed. Our troop was in good heart and thankful that the squadron's losses had been so small. F. had just seen Laurent, the one wounded Chasseur of his troop, and said the doctors hoped to save his eye; so we had no reason to grumble.

Saddlebags were now being buckled and horses rebridled. I was to go forward to replace the troop that had led the advance guard. The Colonel sent for me and ordered me to proceed at once along the road to Fismes, search the outskirts of the village carefully, and take up a position on the heights overlooking the valley.

My troop got away quickly, and I rejoiced again at the sight of my fellows, radiant at the thought of having a dash at the enemy. We had to hasten and get ahead of the foremost parties of infantry, which also halted now for a meal. I detached my advance scouts. Their eager little horses set off at a gallop along the white road, and I was delighted to see the ease and decision with which my Chasseurs flashed out their swords. They seemed to say, "Come along, come along ...; we are ready." As for me, I rode on in quiet confidence, knowing that I had in front of me eyes keen enough to prevent any surprise.