The Uncensored Letters of a Canteen GirlMorse, Katharine Duncan
History
The Uncensored Letters of a Canteen Girl
Morse, Katharine Duncan
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
Leaving Conflans, as one passes through the occupied territory, the
predominant impression made upon one’s mind is of signs. German military
signs. These are everywhere, painted in great staring letters on the
sides of buildings, covering bill-boards set at the road’s edge, or hung
suspended from the branches of trees over the truck drivers’ heads. Here
in this German sector behind the lines every movement was timed, ordered
and regulated. No one could possibly go astray, no one could lose a
moment in hesitation as to where he should go, in what manner and at
what rate. Half-way between Conflans and the lines you come upon two
great bill-boards at the highway’s edge, one duplicating the other, in
order that, marching past, what might have been missed on the first
board, could be supplied by the second. They are headed “Under Enemy
Observation!” and give in strict detail the order of procedure from that
point forward, both by day and night, just what strength the marching
groups should be and how many metres should intervene between them. The
German thoroughness, the German system! Everything has been thought of,
everything provided for, everything possible done to reduce the
individual to an automaton, a mere senseless cog in a vast machine. And
yet among all these signs there is one that lacks, a sign that is
notable by its absence; it is the sign that should read _Nach Verdun_.
Once across the lines on the French side you are struck by the startling
difference; here the only signs that one sees are two, poignant in their
simplicity and directness. They are _Poste de Secours_ and _Blessés à
Pied_.
Every time I approach Verdun by this road I thrill when I think of the
enormous energy that poured along it, directed, it must have seemed,
irresistibly, over-poweringly against the city in the hills; a thrill
only surpassed by the emotion that one must feel when he traverses the
_Sacra Via_ on the other side of Verdun, the “Holy Way” over which men
and munitions flowed incessantly to the defense of the beleaguered city.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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