The Downfall (La Débâcle): A Story of the Horrors of WarZola, Émile
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The Downfall (La Débâcle): A Story of the Horrors of War
Zola, Émile
Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871 -- Fiction
They quietly halted for a minute behind the hedge, but the brandy
burnt their stomachs, instead of quenching their thirst. That burning
taste in their mouths was quite exasperating. And, besides, they felt
famished, and would willingly have devoured the half-loaf which Maurice
still had in his knapsack. But was there any possibility of getting
at it? Other men were each moment coming up behind them, and pushing
them onward. At last, they too bounded over the last slope and found
themselves upon the plateau, at the very foot of the Calvary, the old
stone cross reared between two meagre lime-trees, and eaten away here
and there by the wind and the rain.
'Ah, dash it! here we are at last!' Jean exclaimed; 'but the thing is
to stop here.'
He was right. As Lapoulle, in a plaintive voice, remarked to the
amusement of his comrades, the spot was hardly a pleasant one. And
now, once again, they all stretched themselves among some stubble.
Nevertheless three more men were speedily killed. A perfect hurricane
was raging up there; the projectiles came from St. Menges, Fleigneux,
and Givonne, in such numbers that vapour seemed to issue from the soil,
as happens during a heavy storm of rain. Evidently enough, the position
could not be long retained unless artillery promptly arrived to support
the men who had been so daringly sent to the front. General Douay,
it was said, had given orders to run up a couple of batteries of the
reserve artillery; and the men looked round anxiously every moment,
waiting for these guns which did not arrive.
'It's ridiculous, ridiculous!' repeated Captain Beaudoin, who had again
resumed his jerky promenade. 'A regiment ought not to be sent to an
exposed position like this without being at once supported.' Then,
noticing a dip in the ground on his left, he called out to Rochas: 'I
say, lieutenant, the company might lie down there.'
Rochas, erect and motionless, shrugged his shoulders: 'Oh! captain,
here or there, it's all the same. The best is not to stir.'
Thereupon Beaudoin, who as a rule never swore, flew into a passion.
'But, d---- it, we shall all leave our carcases here,' said he; 'we
can't allow ourselves to be destroyed in this fashion.'
And, getting obstinate, he determined to inspect the position which he
had pointed out as a preferable one. He had not taken a dozen steps,
however, when he disappeared in a sudden explosion. His right leg was
smashed by a splinter of a shell, and he fell upon his back, raising a
shrill cry, like a woman surprised.
'It was a dead certainty,' muttered Rochas; 'so much moving about does
no good. Besides, there's no escape from fate.'
Some of the men raised themselves up on seeing their captain fall; and
as he called for help, begging that they would carry him away, Jean at
last ran to him, immediately followed by Maurice.
'In heaven's name, my friends, don't abandon me; carry me to the
ambulance.'
'Well, sir, it won't be an easy job. However, we'll try.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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