The Note-Book of an Attaché: Seven Months in the War ZoneWood, Eric Fisher
History
The Note-Book of an Attaché: Seven Months in the War Zone
Wood, Eric Fisher
World War, 1914-1918 -- France -- Paris; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
Much of the dismal aftermath of battle seems to be concentrated along
the highways, which are punctuated by dead men and dead horses thrown
into the gutters to be out of the way. Long trains of horse-drawn
wagons plod wearily along toward the front; the towns through which
they pass are battered and nearly deserted; the poplars which line
the roads are broken and gashed by shells, and the fields on either
side are marred by shell craters and by the trenches of the burying
squads.
We entered the shattered town of Montmirail at nightfall. Long lines
of ammunition wagons were encamped for the night just outside and the
town itself was packed with troops. The place had been for eighteen
consecutive hours under a heavy artillery bombardment. The houses were
battered, the streets were pitted by shells, and there remained in the
whole village not a single unbroken window. There had been much
fighting in the streets and the place had been alternately taken and
retaken by Germans and French.
All accommodation in the town had by one blanket order been
requisitioned for the military. We plowed our way through rain and mud
to the office of the Mayor who kindly assigned us to rooms, giving us
written orders on the owners, who turned out to be a quaint old French
shirtmaker and his wife. Hall and I went scouting around through the
place and managed to get hold of a fourteen-sou loaf of bread and two
bottles of wine which served as supper, thus saving our own precious
supplies for future emergencies. Before returning, we visited two
cafés which were jammed with soldiery, from whom we managed to glean a
lot of very interesting information. They all spoke with the greatest
respect, admiration, and affection of their field artillery, "le
soixante-quinze."
* * * * *
Provisions were very scarce. We saw a Turco, who had apparently lost
his regiment and who spoke scarcely any French, vainly trying to find
some food. He walked about through the cafés waving a one hundred
franc note in each hand and ceaselessly demanding something to eat.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account