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
The quartermaster was already gulping down his emotion, however, and he
carefully replaced the letter on his chest, and then again buttoned up
his uniform. 'Yes,' he said, 'it upsets one. Ah! if I could only have
strangled that bandit! Well, we shall see.'
The bugles were now sounding the signal for raising the camp, and they
both had to run to their tents. The preparations for departure dragged
on, however, and the men had to wait till nearly nine o'clock before
receiving orders to start. Hesitation seemed to have again seized
hold of the commanders: there was no more of that fine resolution
shown during the first two days, when the Seventh Corps had covered
eight-and-thirty miles in a couple of marches. Singular and disquieting
information had been circulating since daybreak; the other three
army corps, it appeared, had been marching northward, the First to
Juniville, and the Fifth and the Twelfth to Rethel, an illogical march
which could only be explained by a need of obtaining supplies. Were
they not to continue their advance upon Verdun? Why was a day lost?
The worst was that the Prussians could not be far off, now, for the
officers had warned their men not to straggle, as any laggards might be
carried off by the reconnoitring parties of the enemy's cavalry.
It was now the 25th of August, and subsequently, on recollecting
Goliath's disappearance, Maurice felt convinced that this scamp was one
of the men who supplied the enemy's staff with the precise information
respecting the march of the army of Châlons, which determined the
sudden change of front carried out by the third German army. The Crown
Prince left Revigny on the very next day, and the necessary evolutions
at once began for that flank attack, that gigantic scheme of encircling
the French troops by dint of forced marches, effected in admirable
order through Champagne and the Ardennes. Whilst the French were
hesitating and oscillating on the spot where they found themselves, as
though suddenly struck with paralysis, the Germans, surrounded by an
immense circle of light cavalry beating the country, marched as many
as twenty-five miles a day, driving the flock of men whom they were
hunting towards the forests on the frontier.[21]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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