The Red Glutton: With the German Army at the FrontCobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
History
The Red Glutton: With the German Army at the Front
Cobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- Western Front; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
This was all very flattering and very indicative of the esteem in
which the military authorities of Beaumont seemed to hold us. But we
were not puffed up with a sense of our new responsibilities. Also we
were as a unit in agreeing that under no provocation would we yield
to temptations to embark on any side-excursions upon the way to the
railroad. Personally I know that I was particularly firm upon this
point. I would defy that column to move so fast that I could not keep
up with it.
In the black gloom we could make out a longish clump of men who stood
four abreast, scuffling their feet upon the miry wet stones of the
square. These were the prisoners--one hundred and fifty Frenchmen and
Turcos, eighty Englishmen and eight Belgians. From them, as we drew
near, an odor of wet, unwashed animals arose. It was as rank and raw
as fumes from crude ammonia. Then, in the town house of the Prince de
Caraman-Chimay just alongside, the double doors opened, and the light
streaming out fell upon the naked bayonets over the shoulders of the
sentries and made them look like slanting lines of rain.
There were eight of us by now in the party of guests, our original
group of five having been swollen by the addition of three others--the
Frenchman Gerbeaux, the American artist Stevens and the Belgian
court-photographer Hennebert, who had been under arrest for five
days. We eight, obeying instructions--no, requests--found places for
ourselves in the double files of guards, four going one side of the
column and four the other. I slipped into a gap on the left flank,
alongside four of the English soldiers. The guard immediately behind
me was a man I knew. He had been on duty the afternoon previous in
the place where we were being kept, and he had been obliging enough
to let me exercise my few words of German upon him. He grinned now in
recognition and humorously patted the stock of his rifle--this last,
I take it, being his effort to convey to my understanding that he was
under orders to shoot me in the event of my seeking to play truant
during the next hour or so. He didn't know me--wild horses could not
have dragged us apart.
A considerable wait ensued. Officers, coming back from the day's
battle lines in automobiles, jumped out of their cars and pressed up,
bedraggled and wet through from the rain which had been falling, to
have a look at the prisoners. Common soldiers appeared also. Of these
latter many, I judged, had newly arrived at the front and had never
seen any captured enemies before. They were particularly interested in
the Englishmen, who as nearly as I could tell endured the scrutinising
pretty well, whereas the Frenchmen grew uneasy and self-conscious under
it. We who were in civilian dress--and pretty shabby civilian dress at
that--came in for our share of examination too. The sentries were kept
busy explaining to newcomers that we were not spies going north for
trial. There was little or no jeering at the prisoners.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account