Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871 -- Fiction; War stories
Gaude’s bugle rang out in imperious accents. Then everywhere was
consternation; dumb, deep rage was depicted on every countenance. What,
march on an empty stomach! Could they not wait a little hour until the
soup was ready! The squad resolved that their bouillon should not go to
waste, but it was only so much hot water, and the uncooked meat was
like leather to their teeth. Chouteau growled and grumbled, almost
mutinously. Jean had to exert all his authority to make the men hasten
their preparations. What was the great urgency that made it necessary
for them to hurry off like that? What good was there in hazing people
about in that style, without giving them time to regain their strength?
And Maurice shrugged his shoulders incredulously when someone said in
his hearing that they were about to march against the Prussians and
settle old scores with them. In less than fifteen minutes the tents
were struck, folded, and strapped upon the knapsacks, the stacks were
broken, and all that remained of the camp was the dying embers of the
fires on the bare ground.
There were reasons, of importance that had induced General Douay’s
determination to retreat immediately. The despatch from the
_sous-préfet_ at Schelestadt, now three days old, was confirmed; there
were telegrams that the fires of the Prussians, threatening
Markolsheim, had again been seen, and again, another telegram informed
them that one of the enemy’s army corps was crossing the Rhine at
Huningue: the intelligence was definite and abundant; cavalry and
artillery had been sighted in force, infantry had been seen, hastening
from every direction to their point of concentration. Should they wait
an hour the enemy would surely be in their rear and retreat on Belfort
would be impossible. And now, in the shock consequent on defeat, after
Wissembourg and Froeschwiller, the general, feeling himself unsupported
in his exposed position at the front, had nothing left to do but fall
back in haste, and the more so that what news he had received that
morning made the situation look even worse than it had appeared the
night before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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