The Downfall (La Débâcle): A Story of the Horrors of WarZola, Émile
General
The Downfall (La Débâcle): A Story of the Horrors of War
Zola, Émile
Franco-Prussian War, 1870-1871 -- Fiction
The _soupe_ had long since been eaten, and the men were still waiting,
when at about half-past two o'clock an increasing agitation spread
through the camp. Orders sped right and left, the meadows were
evacuated, and all the troops climbed and ranged themselves on the
hills between a couple of villages, Chestres and Falaise, lying some
two or three miles apart. The Engineers at once began digging trenches
and raising breast-works, whilst the reserve artillery placed itself
on the left, crowning a hillock there. A rumour spread that General
Bordas had just sent an estafette to say that having encountered
superior forces at Grand-Pré he was forced to fall back on Buzancy,
which made one fear that his line of retreat on Vouziers might soon be
intercepted. The commander of the Seventh Corps, believing an attack
imminent, had therefore decided to place his men in position so that he
might withstand the onslaught until the remainder of the army came up
to support him; and one of his aides-de-camp had already started off
with a letter, informing Marshal MacMahon of the situation, and asking
him for help. Then, fearing the embarrassment which might be occasioned
by that interminable convoy of supplies, which had again joined the
corps during the night, the general set it in motion at once, ordering
it, in haphazard fashion, to proceed in the direction of Chagny. All
this meant fighting.
'So it's serious, sir, this time?' Maurice ventured to ask Lieutenant
Rochas.
'Oh, yes, ---- it!' replied the lieutenant waving his long arm; 'you'll
see how hot it will be by-and-by.'
All the men were delighted. Since the line of battle had been formed
from Chestres to Falaise the animation of the camp had become still
greater, and feverish impatience was seizing hold of the men. At last,
then, they were about to see those Prussians, whom the newspapers
described as being worn out with marching and exhausted by disease, who
were said to be famished and clad in rags; and the hope of overthrowing
them at the first brush raised everybody's courage.
'So we've found one another at last, and a good job too,' said Jean.
'We've been playing at hide and seek quite long enough; ever since we
lost each other near the frontier, after that battle. But are these the
ones who beat MacMahon?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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