Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871 -- Fiction; War stories
Their spirits rose again when they made their midday halt in a field of
stubble, where the men could seat themselves on their unslung knapsacks
and refresh themselves with a bite. The large square biscuits could
only be eaten by crumbling them in the soup, but the little round ones
were quite a delicacy, light and appetizing; the only trouble was that
they left an intolerable thirst behind them. Pache sang a hymn, being
invited thereto, the squad joining in the chorus. Jean smiled
good-naturedly without attempting to check them in their amusement,
while Maurice, at sight of the universal cheerfulness and the good
order with which their first day’s march was conducted, felt a revival
of confidence. The remainder of the allotted task of the day was
performed with the same light-hearted alacrity, although the last five
miles tried their endurance. They had abandoned the high road, leaving
the village of Prosnes to their right, in order to avail themselves of
a short cut across a sandy heath diversified by an occasional thin pine
wood, and the entire division, with its interminable train at its
heels, turned and twisted in and out among the trees, sinking ankle
deep in the yielding sand at every step. It seemed as if the cheerless
waste would never end; all that they met was a flock of very lean
sheep, guarded by a big black dog.
It was about four o’clock when at last the 106th halted for the night
at Dontrien, a small village on the banks of the Suippe. The little
stream winds among some pretty groves of trees; the old church stands
in the middle of the graveyard, which is shaded in its entire extent by
a magnificent chestnut. The regiment pitched its tents on the left
bank, in a meadow that sloped gently down to the margin of the river.
The officers said that all the four corps would bivouac that evening on
the line of the Suippe between Auberive and Hentregiville, occupying
the intervening villages of Dontrien, Betheniville and Pont-Faverger,
making a line of battle nearly five leagues long.
Gaude immediately gave the call for “distribution,” and Jean had to run
for it, for the corporal was steward-in-chief, and it behooved him to
be on the lookout to protect his men’s interests. He had taken Lapoulle
with him, and in a quarter of an hour they returned with some ribs of
beef and a bundle of firewood. In the short space of time succeeding
their arrival three steers of the herd that followed the column had
been knocked in the head under a great oak-tree, skinned, and cut up.
Lapoulle had to return for bread, which the villagers of Dontrien had
been baking all that afternoon in their ovens. There was really no lack
of anything on that first day, setting aside wine and tobacco, with
which the troops were to be obliged to dispense during the remainder of
the campaign.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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