Part 9 (2/2)
”Of course, we'll all of us make the same sort of promises,” laughed Stuart, as he gripped their hands at parting. ”We'll swear to look one another up, to meet again shortly, and possibly, if we are rash, to write to one another; and just as certainly we shall find it awfully hard to meet, and, in fact, are more likely to knock across each other by pure accident than by design. It's always like that in warfare, and more than ever now in this conflict. Well, an revoir! That's the word, isn't it, Henri? Au revoir! Here's wis.h.i.+ng that we may meet again soon; and, better than all, hoping that we shall rapidly whop the Germans. Au revoir! We have had splendid times together.”
They had had a wonderful adventure indeed, and that escape from Germany was one which, almost at once, gave interest of quite considerable degree to the public, both British and French. For journalists ferreted out the fact that Jules and Henri were fresh from Germany, and though the two young fellows were modest enough they did not hesitate to tell their story. Thus, as they sat in the express train which took them to the sea-coast on the following day, they read a full account of their own doings. A few hours later they were in Paris, and at once reported at the Ministry of War.
”Bravo! So you are back from Ruhleben, mes enfants. Welcome, welcome!” cried the officer who interviewed them. ”And now, of course, like good sons of France, you have returned at once, at the very earliest moment indeed, to fight France's enemies--the Boche, the Hun, the despicable ruffian whom the Kaiser and his war lords have sent in our direction to wreck the country. Now, tell me; you have had some training?”
”Yes, mon Colonel, we have both done our course, and were on holiday in Germany when war broke out and prevented us from returning. We are very anxious, mon Colonel, to join in the fighting.”
The old Colonel's eyes sparkled as he listened to Henri's rejoinder, and, with Gallic enthusiasm, he smacked both young fellows heartily on the back.
”Bon! It is fine to hear you, mes enfants. It is grand to know that two of France's sons have gone through such adventures in order to return to the country. And you wish to join in the fighting as soon as possible? Bien! If I can contrive to arrange it, it shall be so.
But, first of all, you must go to an instruction-camp, from which you will be drafted to regiments, and where, of course, your uniform will be issued, as well as your kit. Au revoir! Good luck go with you!”
It was a case of incessant movement for Henri and Jules, and, indeed, for weeks now they seemed to have been travelling; first those few miles on foot in the neighbourhood of the camp at Ruhleben, and then in the empty pa.s.senger train which had conveyed them from that dangerous area. Later came their trip on the supply train, and here, once more, they were packed in a French supply train running out of Paris en route for one of the big army camps inst.i.tuted by the French. By the following morning, in fact, they had discarded plain clothes, and were looking critically at one another in uniform.
Jules gave vent to a light whistle, indicative of surprise, astonishment, and amus.e.m.e.nt--if, indeed, a whistle can indicate the latter. Certainly it was not one which displayed any sort of tendency to admiration; while the grin which followed it made Henri quite sure that his appearance was a source almost of ridicule to his comrade.
”What's wrong?” he demanded rather shortly. For when you criticized Henri's get-up--the cut of his coat and of his trousers, and in particular the hang of the latter, the colour of his socks, and his particular fancy in boots and hats--he was apt to become quite angry.
And it made no difference now that the smart clothes which he was wont to wear had been changed for the peculiar blue uniform of France's fighting forces, supported by a pair of army boots of st.u.r.dy pattern, and capped by a steel helmet of distinctive style and of the same peculiar blue colour. Yet, withal, putting cut aside, allowing the fact that Henri, dressed as he was now, looked tall and strong and active and upright, and quite martial too, armed with a rifle, one had to admit that there was a huge difference between the Henri of that moment and the dapper, elegant, well-groomed Henri of twenty months before--a Henri who in London or Paris might quite fairly have been termed a ”knut”.
”Well, you do look a 'one-er'!”
”And what about you?” demanded Henri a little warmly. ”Now that compliments are flying, what about you, mon ami? With that pack on your back you look like a donkey laden for the market.”
At that Jules grimaced, and jerked his pack higher; and, indeed, Henri had not described him altogether unfairly. For your French _poilu_--the gallant, st.u.r.dy French infantry soldier--is, when on the line of march, if not actually overloaded, certainly apt to have the appearance of being so. What with his pack, his mess tins, the camp-kettle which one man among a certain number carries, his entrenching-tools, and the little bundle of f.a.ggots for the camp-fire, a French infantryman does indeed seem to have a vast quant.i.ty of personal impedimenta.
A sounding bugle called the two, and in a little while they were parading with a number of other men, some of whom had already seen service, while others were new to warfare altogether--men who possibly had been delayed from joining the colours by illness, who had contrived to reach France from abroad, or who belonged to a younger cla.s.sification. A smart sergeant threw a knowing eye along the line, and, striding down it, seemed to take in the appearance of every man within a few seconds. Halting here for a moment to adjust a belt, and there to tuck in the tag of a buckle, he soon reached the end of the line, and, pa.s.sing down behind it, adjusting packs, putting kettles in the correct position, arranging helmets at the regulation angle, he presently appeared in front again, and treated the squad to a smile of commendation.
”Very good indeed, lads. Very good,” he said. ”Stand easy for a moment.”
Striding across the ground came a dapper officer--one of those smart, tall, well-turned-out Frenchmen, who appear to be the essence of soldierly composure. Halting in front of the squad, which was drawn up at attention once more, he, too, ran his eye over the men, pa.s.sed a remark to the Sergeant which was essentially complimentary, and then advanced a few paces nearer.
”Mes enfants,” he said, ”there are some among you, who are but new recruits, who may have done your musketry course already, who doubtless know something of soldiering, and yet who must needs undergo further training; to you my remarks do not apply. But there are others among you who have seen service, who have engaged the Boche, and who may doubtless desire to return to the front at the earliest moment. Let such men step a pace forward.”
Henri did not even glance at Jules, seeing that, being on parade, he must keep his eyes directly forward; while Jules, some files to his left, did not dare to cast a look in Henri's direction. It was strange, therefore, and yet not strange, when one remembers the spirit which animated these two young fellows, that, without agreement, without waiting to see what the other would do, each instantly took a pace forward, and with them perhaps a dozen of their comrades.
”Bien! Very good! And now we will ask you all about it,” said the officer, smiling pleasantly. ”Mon camarade, you who look so strong, tell us of your experience.”
He halted in front of a broad-shouldered, burly man, who was well past thirty-five years of age, and whose chin was deeply scarred by a wound, now healed completely.
”What experience, mon Capitaine?” the gallant fellow repeated. ”Well, at Ypres, in 1915, and before that, at Charleroi, in the great retreat past Chateau Thierry, and so to the south of the Grand Morin.”
”And afterwards, mon ami?” asked the officer, patting him in paternal manner on the shoulder; for, though discipline is strict in the French army, indeed stricter in no other, there is yet the best of feeling between officers and men, a species of _camaraderie_ which unites them closely. ”You have seen much service, my friend. What then, after the Grand Morin?”
”What, then? Mon Dieu! There was the Battle of the Marne, mon Capitaine, when we drove the Boche before us; and there followed the fight about the Aisne, when the British were just to the left of us; and, later, yes later, for I have seen a great deal, mon Capitaine, there was fighting near Arras, fighting to the north of the line later, between Ypres and Nieuport, when the Germans a.s.sailed the British at Ypres, and lost the flower of their Prussian Guard Corps. This is the full tale, monsieur, for I have already mentioned the Second Battle of Ypres, in which those Huns first nearly stifled me with asphyxiating gas, and then took this chip out of my chin with a bullet.”
”And you would repay that same chip, my friend?”, laughed the officer.
”Bien! You may say that, Monsieur le Capitaine--repay it a hundredfold if I am able.”
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