In the Field (1914-1915): The Impressions of an Officer of Light CavalryDupont, Marcel
History
In the Field (1914-1915): The Impressions of an Officer of Light Cavalry
Dupont, Marcel
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, French
Leaning against the trees, my Chasseurs took breath after their race.
I passed swiftly along the line to make sure that all my men were
safe. They were all there, and I was relieved to find that I had no
losses to deplore. The joys and sorrows of war had forged a bond
between us that nothing could break. I had soon learnt to know each
one of them, with his virtues and his faults, and I felt them to be,
without exception, worthy fellows and brave soldiers. Each time death
struck down one of them, I suffered as at the loss of a beloved
brother, and I believe they repaid my affection for them by perfect
trust.
The Major had now rejoined us. We were not to lose a moment in
responding to our Colonel's summons, and we were to remember that our
comrades of the second squadron were bearing the brunt of the enemy's
attack alone.
"Forward!"
We resumed our headlong advance. It was more difficult in the darkness
of the wood than on the soft earth of the fields. We stumbled over
roots, and got entangled in brambles; men fell, picked themselves up
again, and went on with an oath. There was no more chaff; all minds
were strung up to fever pitch, and strength was giving out, while the
storm of shrapnel continued overhead, cropping the branches, and
lighting up the tangle of leafless trees and bushes at intervals as if
with fireworks.
Suddenly I heard on my right, not far behind me, screams and calls for
help, rising above the turmoil of battle. I saw my men stop for a
moment, looking round. But they hurried on again at my orders without
a word.
"Forward!"
Time was precious. Every minute might be fatal to our brothers in
arms. We could now hear the familiar sound of our cavalry carbines
quite close to us. We were approaching the trenches where the second
squadron was making its heroic stand.
"Forward! Forward!"
We were all breathless from our frantic rush. But no one thought of
slackening speed. I turned round to some one who was trotting behind
me. It was my non-commissioned officer. Without a moment's loss of
time he had run to see what had caused the cries we had heard, and now
he had come back at the double to report to me.
"Sir, in the third troop, Sergeant Lagaraldi...."
"Well?"
"He's killed, ... and Corporal Durand too!"
"Ah!"
"And there are many wounded."
I made no answer. Oh! it was horrible! Two poor fellows so full of
life and spirits not an hour ago! In spite of myself I could not help
thinking for a few minutes of the two shattered, quivering bodies
lying among the grasses of the forest. But I thrust away the gruesome
vision resolutely. We could only think of doing our duty at this
supreme moment. Later we would remember the dead, weep for them, and
pray for them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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