Prisoner-of-war escapes; World War, 1914-1918 -- Prisoners and prisons, German
Flowers, chocolates, sandwiches, cigars, cigarettes continue to be
poured upon them. Impetuously the soldiers scramble up the banks,
catching hold of the grass, pushing each other roughly, and uttering
cries like wild animals when springing on their prey. Nothing holds them
back any longer. It is a heart-breaking sight where the boldness and
folly of the women rival the greed and brutality of the men. With an air
of disdainful pride and mocking smiles on their lips the officers look
at these men, whom to-morrow they will send to their death; at these
women, whom they despise; at the crowd of civilians, good enough only to
give them gold and their sons for the army of the Kaiser, who alone is
worth the whole humanity of the German army.
At last the inn seems to have been cleared of all eatables, drinkables
and tobacco. The soldiers begin to be tired of the game, they are
surfeited, their pockets are crammed with cigars. The girls have almost
broken their arms throwing gifts until, hot and untidy, they struggle
back into their jackets.
Little by little the people grow quiet. Without variation the orchestra,
a veritable instrument of torture, continues its everlasting grind,
soulless, imperturbable.
Then on the platform young girls and women appear carrying baskets and
escorted by well-dressed men. There sandwiches, fruits, chocolate,
tobacco, cigarettes, bottles of lemonade are piled up. Other women
follow with cups and enormous jugs of coffee, glasses and jugs of beer,
and large juicy plum tarts. The distribution is renewed; it is chiefly
intended for the wounded Germans who have stayed in the train. The
guards will not let the women approach the wounded French, who have no
right to kindly treatment. The women, moreover, cannot bear to hear the
name “Franzosen” pronounced. They turn their backs on them, filled with
disgust for their contemptible enemies.
In some places the soldiers give themselves up to shameful pillage,
emptying the baskets, and the young girls emerge, panting and
dishevelled, from a circle which has surrounded them. Disputes take
place among the Marines.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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