Chapter 2

We were not yet really on the "White Road" to Verdun, and there was still much to be seen that delighted the eyes. In one yellow cornfield there appeared to be enormous poppies. On approaching we discovered a detachment of Tirailleurs from Algiers, sitting in groups, and the "poppies" were the red fezes of the men--a gorgeous blending of crimson and gold. We threw a large box of cigarettes to them and were greeted with shouts of joy and thanks. The Tirailleurs are the enfants terribles of the French Army. One noble son of Africa who was being treated in one of the hospitals once presented me with an aluminium ring made from a piece of German shell. I asked him to make one for one of my comrades who was working at home, and he informed me that nothing would have given greater pleasure, but unfortunately he had no more aluminium. Later in the day, passing through the ward, I saw him surrounded by five or six Parisian ladies who were showering sweets, cigarettes and flowers on him, whilst he was responding by presenting each of them with an aluminium ring. When they had left I went to him and told him "Mahmud, that was not kind. I asked you for a ring and you said you had not got any more aluminium." He smiled and his nurse, who was passing, added, "No, he had not got any more aluminium, but when he is better he will get forty-eight hours' punishment; he has been into the kitchen, stolen one of our best aluminium saucepans, and has been making souvenirs for the ladies." He made no attempt to justify his action beyond stating: "Moi, pas si mauvais, toi pas faux souvenir" ("I am not so bad, I did not try to give you a fake souvenir").

Another of our chocolate coloured patients found in the grounds of the hospital an old umbrella. Its ribs stuck out and it was full of holes, but it gave him the idea of royalty and daily he sat up in bed in the ward with the umbrella unfurled whilst he laid down the law to his comrades. The nurses endeavoured to persuade him to hand it over at night. He obstinately refused, insisting that "he knew his comrades," and he feared that one of them would certainly steal the treasure, so he preferred to keep it in the bed with him.

At Villers-le-Sec we came upon the headquarters of the cooks for that section of the Front. The cook is one of the most important men in a French regiment; he serves many ends. When carrying the food through the communicating trenches to the front line trenches he is always supposed to bring to the men the latest news, the latest tale which is going the round of the camp, and anything that may happen to interest them. If he has not got any news he must manufacture and produce some kind of story. It is really necessary for him to be not only a cook but also an author.

There is a tale going the round of the French Army how one section of the Cooks, although unarmed, managed to take some twenty German prisoners. As they went on their way, they saw the Germans in the distance approaching them; the Head Cook quietly drew the field kitchens behind a clump of trees and bushes, placed his men in a row, each with a cooking utensil in his hand, and as the Germans passed shouted to them to surrender. The sun fell on the handles of the saucepans, causing them to shine like bayonets, and the Germans, taken unawares, laid down their arms. The Head Cook then stepped out and one by one took the rifles from the enemy and handed them to his men. It was only when he had disarmed the Germans and armed his comrades that he gave the signal for them to step out, and the Germans saw that they had been taken by a ruse. One can imagine the joy of the French troops in the next village when, with a soup ladle in his hand, his assistants armed with German rifles, followed by the soup kitchen and twenty prisoners--he marched in to report.

An Instance Of Quick Wit

It is curious how near humour is to tragedy in war, how quick wit may serve a useful purpose, and even save life. A young French medical student told me that he owed his life to the quick wit of the women of a village and the sense of humour of a Saxon officer. Whilst passing from one hospital to another he was captured by a small German patrol, and in spite of his papers proving that he was attached to the Red Cross Service, he was tried as a spy and condemned to be shot. At the opening of his trial the women had been interested spectators, towards the end all of them had vanished. He was placed against a barn door, the firing squad lined up, when from behind the hedge bordering a wood, the women began to bombard the soldiers with eggs. The aim was excellent, not one man escaped; the German officer laughed at the plight of his men and, in the brief respite accorded, the young man dashed towards the hedge and vanished in the undergrowth. The Germans fired a few shots but there was no organised attempt to follow him, probably because their own position was not too secure. He was loth to leave the women to face the music, but they insisted that it was pour la patrie and that they were quite capable of taking care of themselves. Later he again visited the village and the women told him that beyond obliging them to clean the soldiers' clothes thoroughly, the German officer had inflicted no other punishment upon them.

A certain number of inhabitants are still living in the village of Revigny. You see everywhere placards announcing "Caves pour 25," "Caves pour 100," and each person knows to which cellar he is to go if a Taube should start bombing the village. I saw one cellar marked "120 persons, specially safe, reserved for the children." Children are one of the most valuable assets of France, and a good old Territorial "Pe-Pere" (Daddy), as they are nicknamed, told me that it was his special but difficult duty to muster the children directly a Taube was signalled and chase them down into the cellar. Mopping his brow he assured me that it was not easy to catch the little beggars, who hid in the ruins, behind the army wagons, anywhere to escape the "parental" eye, even standing in rain barrels up to their necks in water. It is needless to add they consider it a grave infringement of their personal liberty and think that they should be allowed to remain in the open and see all that goes on, just as the little Londoners beg and coax to be allowed to stay up "to see the Zepps."

Passing the railway station we stopped to make some enquiries, and promptly ascertained all we wished to know from the Chef de Gare. In the days of peace there is in France no one more officious than the station master of a small but prosperous village. Now he is the meekest of men. Braided cap in hand he goes along the train from carriage door to carriage door humbly requesting newspapers for the wounded in the local hospitals: "Nous avons cent vingt cinq blesses ici, cela les fait tant de plaisir d'avoir des nouvelles." (We have 125 wounded here and they love to hear the news.)

In addition to levying a toll on printed matter, he casts a covetous and meaning glance on any fruit or chocolate that may be visible. Before the train is out of the station, you can see the once busy, and in his own opinion, all-important railway official, vanishing down the road to carry his spoils to his suffering comrades. Railway travelling is indeed expensive in France. No matter what time of day or night, wet or fine, the trains are met at each station by devoted women who extract contributions for the Red Cross Funds from the pockets of willing givers. It is only fair to state, however, that in most instances the station master gets there first.

At The Headquarters Of General Petain

From the time we left Revigny until we had passed into the Champagne country, upon the return journey from Verdun, we no longer saw a green tree or a blade of green grass; we were now indeed upon the "White Road which leads unto Verdun." Owing to an exceptionally trying and dry summer the roads are thick with white dust. The continual passing of the camions, the splendid transport wagons of the French Army, carrying either food, munitions, or troops, has stirred up the dust and coated the fields, trees and hedges with a thick layer of white. It is almost as painful to the eyes as the snow-fields of the Alps.

I saw one horse that looked exactly like a plaster statuette. His master had scrubbed him down, but before he dried the white dust had settled on him everywhere. Naturally humans do not escape. By the time our party reached the Headquarters of General Petain we had joined the White Brigade. I excused myself to the General, who smilingly replied: "Why complain, Mademoiselle, you are charming; your hair is powdered like that of a Marquise." The contrast with what had been a black fur cap on what was now perfectly white hair justified his compliment. I have never been renowned in my life for fear of any individual, but I must admit that I passed into the presence of General Petain with a great deal of respect amounting almost to awe. The defence of Verdun through the bitter months of February and March by General Petain, a defence which is now under the immediate control of his able lieutenants General Nivelle and General Dubois, has earned the respect and admiration of the whole world. It is impossible not to feel the deepest admiration for these men who have earned such undying glory, not only for themselves, but for their Motherland.

No one could have been more gracious and kind than General Petain, and in his presence one realised the strength and power of France. Throughout all the French Headquarters one is impressed by the perfect calm; no excitement; everything perfectly organised.

General Petain asked me at once to tell him what I desired. I asked his permission to go to Rheims. He at once took up a paper which permitted me to enter the war zone and endorsed it with the request to General Debeney in Rheims to allow me to penetrate with my companions into the city. He then turned to me again and asked me, with a knowing smile, if that was all I required--for his Headquarters were hardly on the direct road to Rheims! I hesitated to express my real wish, when my good counsellor and friend, with whom I was making the journey, the Commandant Jean de Pulligny, answered for me: "I feel sure it would be a great happiness and honour if you would allow us, General, to go to Verdun." General Petain appeared slightly surprised, and turning to me asked: "Do you thoroughly realise the danger? You have crossed the Atlantic and faced submarines, but you will risk more in five minutes in Verdun than in crossing the Atlantic a thousand times." However, seeing that I was really anxious to go, and that it might be of great service to me in my future work to have seen personally the defence of Verdun, he added smilingly: "Well then, you can go if you wish at your own risk and peril." He then telephoned to General Nivelle the necessary permission for us to enter Verdun.

I doubt whether General Petain realises the respect in which he is held in all the civilised countries of the world. Probably he does not yet understand that people would come thousands of miles to have five minutes' audience with him, for he enquired if we were in any hurry to continue our journey, and added with charming simplicity--"Because if not, and you do not mind waiting an hour, I shall be glad if you will lunch with me."

A Meeting With "Forain"

We lunched with General Petain and his Etat Major. A charming and most interesting addition to the party was M. Forain, the famous French caricaturist, and now one of the Chief Instructors of the French Army in the art of camouflage--the art of making a thing look like anything in the world except what it is! He has established a series of schools all along the French Front, where the Poilus learn to bedeck their guns and thoroughly disguise them under delicate shades of green and yellow, with odd pink spots, in order to relieve the monotony. Certainly the appearance of the guns of the present time would rejoice the heart and soul of the "Futurists." It was most interesting to hear him describe the work in detail and the rapidity with which his pupils learned the new art. For one real battery there are probably three or four false ones, beautiful wooden guns, etc., etc., and he told us of the Poilus' new version of the song "Rien n'est plus beau que notre Patrie" ("Nothing is more beautiful than our country"). They now sing "Rien n'est plus faux que notre batterie" ("Nothing is more false than our battery").

It was M. Forain who coined the famous phrase "that there was no fear for the ultimate success of the Allies, if only the civilians held out!"

I was much amused at M. Forain's statement that he had already heard that a company had been formed for erecting, after the War, wooden hotels on the battlefields of France for the accommodation of sightseers. Not only was it certain that these hotels were to be built, but the rooms were already booked in advance.

Value Of Women's Work

It was strange to find there, within the sound of the guns-- sometimes the glasses on the table danced to the music although no one took any notice of that--surrounded by men directing the operations of the war and of one of the greatest battles in history, how little War was mentioned. Science, Philosophy and the work of women were discussed.

The men of France are taking deep interest in the splendid manner in which the women of all the different nations are responding to the call to service. I described to General Petain the work of the Scottish Women's Hospitals. These magnificent hospitals are organised and staffed entirely by women and started, in the first instance, by the Scottish Branch of the National Union of Women's Suffrage. He was deeply interested to learn that what had been before the War a political society had, with that splendid spirit of patriotism which had from the first day of the war animated every man, woman and child of Great Britain, drawn upon its funds and founded the Hospital Units. I explained to him that it was no longer a question of politics, but simply a case of serving humanity and serving it to the best possible advantage. The National Union had realised that this was a time for organised effort on the part of all women for the benefit of the human race and the alleviation of suffering.

I spoke of the bravery of our girls in Serbia; how many of them had laid down their lives during the typhus epidemic; how cheerfully they had borne hardships, our doctors writing home that their tent hospitals were like "great white birds spreading their wings under the trees," whereas really they had often been up all night hanging on to the tent poles to prevent the tents collapsing over their patients.

A member of the Etat Major asked how we overcame the language difficulty. I pointed out that to diagnose typhus and watch the progress of the patient it was not necessary to speak to him, and that by the magic language of sympathy we managed to establish some form of "understanding" between the patients, the Doctors, and the Nurses. The members of our staff were chosen as far as possible with a knowledge of French or German, and it was possible to find many Serbians speaking either one of these languages. We also found interpreters amongst the Austrian prisoner orderlies. These prisoner orderlies had really proved useful and had done their best to help us. Naturally they had their faults. One of our Lady Doctors had as orderly a Viennese Professor, willing but somewhat absent-minded. One morning she sent for him and asked him: "Herr Karl, can you tell me what was wrong with my bath water this morning?" "I really don't know, Fraulein, but I will endeavour to find out."

Ten minutes later he returned, looking decidedly guilty and stammered out, "I do not know how to tell you what happened to that bath water." "Nonsense, it can't be very terrible," replied Doctor X. "What was wrong?" "Well, Fraulein, when I went into the camp kitchen this morning there were two cauldrons there, one was your bath water, and the other was the camp soup. To you, Fraulein, I brought the camp soup."

We who had worked with the Serbians had learned to respect and admire them for their patriotism, courage and patient endurance. We felt that their outstanding characteristic was their imagination, which, turned into the proper channels and given a chance to develop, should produce for the world not only famous painters and poets but also great inventors. This vivid imagination is found in the highest and lowest of the land. To illustrate it, I told my neighbour at table a tale related to me by my good friend Dr. Popovic. "Two weary, ragged Serbian soldiers were sitting huddled together waiting to be ordered forward to fight. One asked the other, 'Do you know how this War started, Milan? You don't. Well then I'll tell you. The Sultan of Turkey sent our King Peter a sack of rice. King Peter looked at the sack, smiled, then took a very small bag and went into his garden and filled it with red pepper. He sent the bag of red pepper to the Sultan of Turkey. Now, Milan, you can see what that meant. The Sultan of Turkey said to our Peter, 'My army is as numerous as the grains of rice in this sack,' and by sending a small bag of red pepper to the Sultan our Peter replied, 'My Army is not very numerous, but it is mighty hot stuff.'"

Many members of the Units of the Scottish Women's Hospitals who had been driven out of Serbia at the time of the great invasion had asked to be allowed to return to work for the Serbians, and we were now equipping fresh units, entirely staffed by women, to serve with the Serbian Army, besides having at the present time the medical care of six thousand Serbian refugees on the island of Corsica.

General Petain said smiling that before the war he had sometimes thought of women "as those who inspired the most beautiful ideas in men and prevented them from carrying them out," but the war, he added, had certainly proved conclusively the value of women's work.

M. Forain expressed the desire to visit the chief French Hospital of the Scottish Women at the Abbaye de Royaumont. The General laughingly told him, "You do not realise how stern and devoted to duty those ladies are. I wonder if you would be permitted to visit them?"

I consoled M. Forain by pointing out that surely as chief Camoufler (disguiser) of the French Army, he could disguise himself as a model of virtue (de se camoufler en bon garcon). Certainly this son of France, who has turned his brilliant intellect and his art to the saving of men's lives, would be welcome anywhere and everywhere. I hastened to assure him that I was only teasing him, and added that I only teased the people I admired and liked. General Petain immediately turned to the Commandant de Pulligny--"Please remark that she has not yet teased me." "Probably because she fears to do it, and has too much respect for you," replied the Commandant. "Fears! I do not think we need talk of that just now, when she dares to go to Verdun."

Whilst at coffee after lunch the news came of the continued advance of the British troops. General Petain turned to me and said, "You must indeed be proud in England of your new army. Please tell your English people of our admiration of the magnificent effort of England. The raising and equipping of your giant army in such a short time was indeed a colossal task. How well it was carried out all the world now knows and we are reaping the harvest."

The General's Chief of Staff added: "Lord Kitchener was right when he said the war would last three years"--"the first year preparation, the second year defence, and the third year cela sera rigolo (it will be huge sport)." He quoted the phrase as Lord Kitchener's own.

Before we left the General signed for me the menu of the lunch, pointing out to me, however, that if I were at any time to show the menu to the village policeman I must assure him that the hare which figured thereon had been run over at night by a motor car and lost its life owing to an accident, otherwise he might, he feared, be fined for killing game out of season!

I shall always remember the picture of General Petain seeing us into our car with his parting words, "You are about to do the most dangerous thing you have ever done or will ever do in your life. As for Verdun, tell them in England that I am smiling and I am sure that when you see General Nivelle you will find him smiling too. That is the best answer I can give you as to how things are going with us at Verdun." Then with a friendly wave of his hand we passed on our way.

After leaving the Headquarters of General Petain we were held up for some time at a level crossing and watched the busy little train puffing along, carrying towards Verdun stores, munitions and men. This level crossing had been the scene of active fighting; on each side were numerous graves, and the sentinels off duty were passing from one to the other picking a dead leaf or drawing a branch of trailing vine over the resting places of their comrades.

Above our heads circled "les guipes" the wasps of the French Army. They had been aroused by the appearance of a Taube and were preparing to sting had the Taube waited or made any further attempt to proceed over the French lines. However, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, it turned and fled.

It is unwise, however, to stir up the "wasps of France"; they followed it, and later in the day we heard that it had been brought down near Verdun.

We were now in the centre of activity of the army defending Verdun. On every hand we saw artillery parks, ammunition parks, and regiments resting, whilst along the road a long line of camions passed unceasingly. During the whole length of my stay on the French Front I only saw one regiment marching. Everywhere the men are conveyed in the camions, and are thus spared the fatigue which would otherwise be caused by the intense heat and the white dust. There are perhaps only two things that can in any way upset the perfect indifference to difficulties of the French trooper: he hates to walk, and he refuses to be deprived of his "pinard." The men of the French Army have named their red wine "pinard," just as they call water "la flotte," always, however, being careful to add that "la flotte" is excellent "for washing one's feet."

As we passed through the Headquarters of General Nivelle, he sent down word to us not to wait to call on him then, but to proceed at once to Verdun as later the passage would become more difficult. He kindly sent down to us one of the officers of his staff to act as escort. The officer sat by our chauffeur, warning him of the' dangerous spots in the road which the Germans had the habit of "watering" from time to time with "marmites," and ordering him to put on extra speed. Our speed along the road into Verdun averaged well over a mile a minute.

The "Movies" Under Fire

Within range of the German guns, probably not more than four or five kilometres from Verdun, we came on a line of men waiting their turn to go into the cinema. After all there was no reason "de s'en faire," and if they were alive they decided they might as well be happy and amused. Just before entering the gate of Verdun we passed a number of ambulances, some of them driven by the American volunteers. These young Americans have displayed splendid heroism in bringing in the wounded under difficult conditions. Many of them have been mentioned in despatches, and have received from France the Croix de Guerre. I also saw an ambulance marked "Lloyds."