My Home in the Field of HonorHuard, Frances Wilson
History
My Home in the Field of Honor
Huard, Frances Wilson
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
"I don't ask that, my good woman. If you can find a bed for me and
happen to have a bay loft or covered shed, the others will be glad
enough to sleep there. As to the meals, we have our own provisions and
will cook outside. It's a little late to-night, however, so if you
could manage to give them a cup of hot soup and an omelet when they
arrive, I'd make it worth your while."
She consented to the compromise, and sent one of her daughters to
prepare my room. I then dispatched George, whose bicycle bell I heard
ringing in the street, to the city gate to await and conduct the
remainder of our party. In the hour that elapsed before their arrival I
gained in the hostess's good graces by lancing a festered finger and
bandaging her small daughter's skinned knee.
When the others arrived, George, who had not been idle during his wait,
told me that Jouy was almost empty of inhabitants, and that most of the
people from Mery-sur-Marne, a village near Villiers, were lodging for
the night on bales of hay in the school house and town hall.
Our meal over, none of us needed persuading to retire and the idea of a
bed lured me early to my room.
Naturally a light sleeper, I was constantly awakened by the coming and
going and the conversation of our proprietress, who kept on packing
right through the night. Another time I was roused by a bell ringing up
and down the street, which passed beneath my window, and a deep
masculine voice that enjoined all the people from Mery to hurry to the
town hall. The wagons were leaving in a quarter of an hour.
"Poor fools," thought I, and rolled over in my bed.
As it grew light, I could gee the interminable stream of refugees
passing up the road, and when I had dressed and hastened to the
courtyard I found the others had already kindled a fire and tea was
awaiting me.
"At what time should we start, Madame?"
"Start where?"
"I haven't the slightest intention of going any farther. Haven't you
all had enough of this kind of traveling?"
The reply was affirmative and unanimous!
"The noise of the cannon is hardly audible this morning, which is a very
encouraging sign, I'm sure, so we'll try to make ourselves comfortable
until it's safe to go home."
And leaving Julie in charge, I set off by myself, glad of a moment's
solitude.
In my wanderings I found the church door open, and entering, rejoiced in
the peace that reigned within. It calmed my anxiety and as I withdrew
my thoughts were clearer, and the burden of my responsibility seemed
lightened.
On my way to the hotel I was accosted by a woman who, with a baby in her
arms, was leading a cow behind her.
"Don't you want some milk?"
"I hardly think so."
"Please take it. You see, I've only saved my baby and my cow, and I
have to milk the latter twice a day. I can't carry all she gives, so I
keep what's necessary and throw the rest away. It seems like such a
waste."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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