The Ordeal by Fire: By a Sergeant in the French ArmyBerger, Marcel
General
The Ordeal by Fire: By a Sergeant in the French Army
Berger, Marcel
Soldiers -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- France -- Fiction
Would it be a surprise to hear that not for one instant during that
time did I experience the faintest shadow of discouragement? And
yet I did not shut my eyes to the truth. I did not in the least
disregard the desperately critical element in our position. My
steadfastness arose, I believe, from the deep-rooted conviction that
if, in such circumstances, the nation abandoned the least iota of her
self-confidence, all would be up with her and with us. I was conscious
of being a molecule participating in the whole. The slightest faltering
on my part would have diminished the strength of my platoon, of my
company, of the whole regiment. In the same way, I thought, my energy
must raise it and reinforce it. And besides, my will did not need
stiffening, I was steeped in serene faith, infinitely more convinced
of our final success, all through this retreat, which resembled a
disaster, than I had been a few days before, when I kept watch at the
outposts of a victorious army. "Just wait a little," I repeated to
myself obstinately. Our adversary was gaining an advantage, driving us
in front of him. Very well! We were suffering, and we should suffer
endless ills,--especially when autumn came on,--desertions, partial
mutinies might occur. Everyone counted on some terrible epidemic. There
would be nothing surprising in new and still more serious defeats.
Yes, but afterwards, afterwards? Afterwards, I conceived a limit to our
misfortunes, but not to our resources. I discerned in myself, in us,
a capacity for resistance against which the effort of the enemy would
spend itself in vain however tenacious it might be.
To what must I attribute the expansion of my strength of mind? I asked
myself then, and have considered it since.
To the boon, first of all, of being descended from that sturdy stock.
I remembered the vitality my mother had always shown. Had she not
nursed me at night during my long illnesses for three weeks at a time,
without neglecting one of her duties during the day? And my father, and
his behaviour from one end to the other of the preceding war! Taken
prisoner once, wounded twice, he considered the armistice shamefully
premature after six months of incessant fighting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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