Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871 -- Fiction; War stories
Not a man of them smiled. It was too bad, all the same, to have to
drink their coffee without sugar; and then, too, if they only had some
biscuit! Most of them had devoured what eatables they had in their
knapsacks, to the very last crumb, to while away their time of waiting,
the day before, on the plateau of Quatre-Champs. Among them, however,
the members of the squad managed to collect a dozen potatoes, which
they shared equally.
Maurice, who began to feel a twinging sensation in his stomach, uttered
a regretful cry:
“If I had known of this I would have bought some bread at Chêne.”
Jean listened in silence. He had had a dispute with Chouteau that
morning, who, on being ordered to go for firewood, had insolently
refused, alleging that it was not his turn. Now that everything was so
rapidly going to the dogs, insubordination among the men had increased
to such a point that those in authority no longer ventured to reprimand
them, and Jean, with his sober good sense and pacific disposition, saw
that if he would preserve his influence with his squad he must keep the
corporal in the background as far as possible. For this reason he was
hail-fellow-well-met with his men, who could not fail to see what a
treasure they had in a man of his experience, for if those committed to
his care did not always have all they wanted to eat, they had, at all
events, not suffered from hunger, as had been the case with so many
others. But he was touched by the sight of Maurice’s suffering. He saw
that he was losing strength, and looked at him anxiously, asking
himself how that delicate young man would ever manage to sustain the
privations of that horrible campaign.
When Jean heard Maurice bewail the lack of bread he arose quietly, went
to his knapsack, and, returning, slipped a biscuit into the other’s
hand.
“Here! don’t let the others see it; I have not enough to go round.”
“But what will you do?” asked the young man, deeply affected.
“Oh, don’t be alarmed about me—I have two left.”
It was true; he had carefully put aside three biscuits, in case there
should be a fight, knowing that men are often hungry on the
battlefield. And then, besides, he had just eaten a potato; that would
be sufficient for him. Perhaps something would turn up later on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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