A Hilltop on the Marne: Being Letters Written June 3-September 8, 1914Aldrich, Mildred
History
A Hilltop on the Marne: Being Letters Written June 3-September 8, 1914
Aldrich, Mildred
Marne, 1st Battle of the, France, 1914; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
He stepped back into the garden, gave a quick look overhead,--I don't
know what for, unless for a Taube. Then he said, "Now, you will please
come out into the road and keep close to the bank at the left, in the
shadow. I shall walk at the extreme right. As soon as I get where I
can see the roads ahead, at the foot of the hill, I shall ask you to
stop, and please stop at once. I don't want you to be seen from the
road below, in case any one is there. Do you understand ?"
I said I did. So we went into the road and walked silently down the
hill. Just before we got to the turn, he motioned me to stop and stood
with his map in hand while I explained that he was to cross the road
that led into Voisins, take the cart track down the hill past the
washhouse on his left, and turn into the wood road on that side. At each
indication he said, "I have it." When I had explained, he simply said,
"Rough road?"
I said it was, very, and wet in the dryest weather.
"Wooded all the way?" he asked.
I told him that it was, and, what was more, so winding that you could
not see ten feet ahead anywhere between here and Conde.
"Humph," he said. "Perfectly clear, thank you very much. Please wait
right there a moment."
He looked up the hill behind him, and made a gesture in the air with his
hand above his head. I turned to look up the hill also. I saw the
corporal at the gate repeat the gesture; then a big bicycle corps, four
abreast, guns on their backs, slid round the corner and came gliding
down the hill. There was not a sound, not the rattle of a chain or a
pedal.
"Thank you very much," said the captain. "Be so kind as to keep close
to the bank."
When I reached my gate I found some of the men of the guard dragging a
big, long log down the road, and I watched them while they attached it
to a tree at my gate, and swung it across to the opposite side of the
road, making in that way a barrier about five feet high. I asked what
that was for? "Captain's orders," was the laconic reply. But when it
was done the corporal took the trouble to explain that it was a
barricade to prevent the Germans from making a dash up the hill.
"However," he added, "don't you get nervous. If we chase them out it
will only be a little rifle practice, and I doubt if they even have any
ammunition."
As I turned to go into the house, he called after me,--
"See here, I notice that you've got doors on all sides of your house.
Better lock all those but this front one."
As all the windows were barred and so could be left open, I didn't mind;
so I went in and locked up. The thing was getting to be funny to
me,--always doing something, and nothing happening. I suppose courage
is a cumulative thing, if only one has time to accumulate, and these
boys in khaki treated even the cannonading as if it were all "in the
day's work."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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