Paths of Glory: Impressions of War Written at and Near the FrontCobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
History
Paths of Glory: Impressions of War Written at and Near the Front
Cobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- Western Front; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
It dawned on us that, having accidentally slipped through a hole in the
German rear guard, we had reached a point close to the front of
operations. We felt uncomfortable.
It was not at all likely that a Herr Over-Commander would expedite us
with the graciousness that had marked his underlings back along the line
of communication. We remarked as much to one another; and it was a true
prophecy. A staff officer--a colonel who spoke good English--received
us at the door of the villa and examined our papers in the light which
streamed over his shoulder from a fine big hallway behind him. In
everything, both then and thereafter, he was most polite.
"I do not understand how you came here, you gentlemen," he said at
length. "We have no correspondents with our army."
"You have now," said one of us, seeking to brighten the growing
embarrassment of the situation with a small jape.
Perhaps he did not understand. Perhaps it was against the regulations
for a colonel, in full caparison of sword and shoulder straps, to laugh
at a joke from a dusty, wayworn, shabby stranger in a dented straw hat
and a wrinkled Yankee-made coat. At any rate this colonel did not
laugh.
"You did quite right to report yourselves here and explain your
purposes," he continued gravely; "but it is impossible that you may
proceed. To-morrow morning we shall give you escort and transportation
back to Brussels. I anticipate"--here he glanced quizzically at our
aged mare, drooping knee-sprung between the shafts of the lopsided
dogcart--"I anticipate that you will return more speedily than you
arrived.
"You will kindly report to me here in the morning at eleven. Meantime
remember, gentlemen, that you are not prisoners--by no means, not. You
may consider yourselves for the time being as--shall we say?--guests of
the German Army, temporarily detained. You are at perfect liberty to
come and go--only I should advise you not to go too far, because if you
should try to leave town tonight our soldiers would certainly shoot you
quite dead. It is not agreeable to be shot; and, besides, your great
Government might object. So, then, I shall have the pleasure of seeing
you in the morning, shall I not? Yes? Good night, gentlemen!"
He clicked his neat heels so that his spurs jangled, and bowed us out
into the dark. The question of securing lodgings loomed large and
imminent before us. Officers filled the few small inns and hotels;
soldiers, as we could see, were quartered thickly in all the houses in
sight; and already the inhabitants were locking their doors and dousing
their lights in accordance with an order from a source that was not to
be disobeyed. Nine out of ten houses about the square were now but
black oblongs rising against the gray sky. We had nowhere to go; and yet
if we did not go somewhere, and that pretty soon, the patrols would
undoubtedly take unpleasant cognizance of our presence. Besides, the
searching chill of a Belgian night was making us stiff.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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