My Home In The Field of Honor by Frances Wilson Huard
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Frances Wilson Huard >> My Home In The Field of Honor
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At Changis-St. Jean I put my head out of the window and there witnessed
a most touching sight. A youngish man in a well-fitting captain's
uniform, accompanied by his wife and two pretty babies, was preparing to
take his leave. He was evidently well known and esteemed in his little
village, for the curate, the mayor, the municipal council and numerous
friends had come to see him off. The couple bore up bravely until the
whistle blew-then, clasping each other in an almost brutal embrace, they
parted, he to jump into the moving train mid the shouts of well-wishers,
and she, her shoulders shaking with emotion, to return to her empty
home.
Four months later, almost to a day, I again put my head out of the car
window as we stopped at Changis. Imagine my surprise on seeing almost
the same group! I recognized the mayor, the curate and the others, and
a little shiver went down my back as I caught sight of the pretty
captain's wife--her eyes red and swollen beneath the long widow's veil
that covered her face. That same hopeful little assembly of August
first had once again gathered on the station platform to take possession
of and to conduct to their last resting place the mortal remains of
their heroic defunct.
Naturally, as they did not expect us before six at the chateau, there
was no carriage to meet us.
"We'll take the hotel taxi as far as Charly, and from there we'll
telephone home," said H. as we got down from the train.
But there was neither hotel trap nor vehicle of any description at the
station. True it was that our train was nearly two hours late! The idea
of walking some four miles in the broiling sun was anything but amusing,
but there seemed to be nothing else to do. So after a quarter of an
hour uselessly spent in trying to get a carriage about our lonesome
station, we started off on foot. We had scarcely gone two hundred yards
when we caught sight of a PARISIAN taxi! H. hailed him!
"What are you doing down _here?_"
"I brought down a gentleman who was in a hurry. You see there are no
more trains out of Paris on this line since noon! And there are not
likely to be any for some time to come."
"Will you take us as far as Charly?"
"If it's on the way to Paris--yes! I'm in a hurry to get back. I've
got to join my regiment at the Gaxe du Nord before midnight, but I'd
like to ring in another job like this before that. It's worth while at
150 per trip!"
"You've got to cross Charly--there's no other way to Paris."
So we made our price and were whisked into our little market-town.
The inhabitants were on their doorsteps or chatting in little groups,
and we created quite a sensation in our Parisian vehicle. H. went to
the Gendarmerie at once to see if there was any official news by wire
since we had left town.
"You're the one who ought to bring us news, Monsieur," said the
_brigadier_. "What do they say in Paris?"
"The mobilization will be posted at four o'clock."
A hearty peal of laughter, that was most refreshing in the tension of
the moment, burst from all three gendarmes.
"Well, it's five minutes of four now. And if what you say is so, I
should think we'd know something about it by this time! Don't worry.
It's not so bad as you fancy--"
H. shook hands and we left. At the hotel we got the chateau on the wire
and asked for the victoria at once. As the horse had to be harnessed and
there is a two-mile drive down to Charley, we stopped a moment and spoke
to the proprietress of the hotel.
"How does it happen that your motor was not at the station?" said H.
"Oh," she replied, "our officers hired it early this morning and my
husband bad to drive them post-haste to Soissons. He hasn't got back
yet!"
Before going farther in my narrative I shall say here, lest I forget it,
that two of the supposed officers were caught within the fortnight and
shot at Meaux as German spies--the third managed to make his escape.
Hearing the carriage coming down the hill, we walked towards the
doorway. At that same moment we saw the white-trousered _gendarme_
hastening towards the town hall. Catching might of H., he held up the
sealed envelope he held in his band, and shouted, "You were right,
Monsieur. It has come!"
We jumped into the victoria, but as we crossed the square the
_garde-champetre_ caught the bridle and stopped our turnout.
"One moment, Monsieur."
Then the town-crier appeared, instantly causing the staggering groups to
cluster into one. He had no need to ring his bell. He merely lifted
his hand and obtained instant silence, and then slowly read out in deep,
solemn, measured tones, which I shall never forget until my dying day.
"_Extrme urgence. Ordre de mobilisation generale. Le premier jour de
la mobilization est le dimanche deux aout!_"
That was all! It was enough! The tension of those last two days was
broken. No matter what the news, it was a relief. And we drove away
'mid the rising hum of hundreds of tongues, loosened after the agonizing
suspense.
The news had not yet reached Villiers when we drove through the village
street. We turned into the chateau and found Elizabeth Gauthier, her
children and almost all the servants, grouped near the entrance ball.
They looked towards us with an appealing gaze.
As H. opened his mouth to answer, the sharp pealing of the _tocsin_,
such as it rings only in cases of great emergency, followed by the
rolling of the drum, told them better than we could that the worst bad
come.
The servants retired in silence and still the bell rang on. Presently
we could hear the clicking of the sabots on the bard road as the
peasants hurried from the fields towards the _Mairie_.
I can see us all now, standing there in the brilliant afternoon
sunlight--Elizabeth murmuring between her sobs, "O God, don't take my
husband!" little Jules clinging to her skirts, amazed at her distress,
and happy, lighthearted, curly-headed baby Colette, chasing butterflies
on the lawn in front of us!
II
_August first._
The _tocsin_ ceased, but the drum rolled on.
In a moment we had recovered from the first shock, and all went out to
the highroad to hear the declaration. To H. and me it was already a
thing of the past, but we wanted to see how the peasants would take it.
At Villiers as at Charly, it was the _garde champetre_ who was charged
with this solemn mission, and the old man made a most pathetic figure as
he stood there with his drumsticks in his hand, his spectacles pushed
back, and the perspiration rolling down his tanned and withered cheeks.
"What have you got to say?" queried one woman, who was too impatient to
wait until all had assembled.
"_Bien de bon--_" was the philosophic reply, and our friend proceeded to
clear his throat and make his announcement.
It was received in dead silence. Not a murmur, not a comment rose from
the crowd, as the groups dispersed, and each one returned to his
lodgings.
We followed suit, and I went with H. towards the servants' hall.
"Give me the keys to the wine cellar," said he. "And, Nini," he
continued, addressing my youngest maid, aged ten, "Nini, lay a cloth and
bring out the champagne glasses. The boys shan't go without a last
joyful toast."
There were four of them; four of them whose military books ordered them
to reach the nearest railway station, with two days' rations, as soon as
possible after the declaration of mobilization. H. had hardly time to
bring up the champagne before we could bear the men clattering down the
stairs from their rooms. Their luggage was quickly packed--a change of
underclothes and a second pair of shoes composed their trousseaux--and
Julie came hurrying forward with bread, sausages and chocolate! "Put
this into your bags," she said. Though no one had told them, all those
who remained seemed to have guessed what to do, for in like manner
George, one of the younger gardeners, had hitched the horses to the farm
cart and drove up to the kitchen entrance.
A moment later Catherine called me aside and tearfully begged permission
to accompany husband and brother as far as Paris. The circumstances
were too serious to refuse such a request and I nodded my assent.
"Come on, boys," shouted H. "Ring the farm-bell, Nini, and call the
others in."
Their faces radiant with excitement, they gathered around the long
table. H. filled up the glasses and then raising his--
"Here's to France, and to your safe return!" said he.
"To France, and our safe return!" they echoed.
We all touched glasses and the frothy amber liquid disappeared as by
magic. Then followed a hearty handshaking and they all piled into the
little cart. George cracked the whip and in a moment they had turned the
comer and were gone.
Gone--gone forever--for in the long months that followed how often did I
recall that joyful toast, and now, a year later, as I write these lines,
I know for certain that none of them will ever make that "safe return."
Elizabeth Gauthier bore up wonderfully under the strain. She was the
first to admit that after all it would have been too trying to say
good-bye to her husband. H. and I then decided that it was best for her
to bring her children and maid and come over to the chateau where we
would share our lot in common. There was no time for lamenting--for the
sudden disappearance of cook, butler, and the three most important
farm-hands, left a very large breach which had to be filled at once.
There was nothing to do but to "double up," and the girls and women
willingly offered to do their best.
Julie, the only person over thirty, offered to take over the kitchen. To
George and Leon fell the gardens, the stables, the horses, dogs, pigs
and cattle. Yvonne, aged seventeen, offered to milk the cows, make
butter and cheese, look after the chickens and my duck farm, while
Berthe and Nini, aged fourteen and ten, were left to take care of the
chateau! Not a very brilliant equipment to run as large an
establishment as ours, but all so willing and so full of good humour
that things were less neglected than one might imagine.
The excitement of the day had been such that after a very hasty meal we
retired exhausted at an early hour. The night was still--so still that
though four miles from the station we could hear the roar of the trains
as they passed along the river front.
"Hark!" said H. "How close together they are running!"
We timed them. Scarcely a minute between each. Then, our ears becoming
accustomed, we were soon able to distinguish the passenger from the
freight trains, as well as the empty ones returning to Paris.
"Listen! Those last two were for the troops! That one is for the
ammunition. Oh, what a heavy one! It must be for the artillery!" And
we fell asleep before the noise ceased. Indeed for three long weeks
there was no end to it, as night and day the Eastern Railway rushed its
human freight towards the Eastern frontier.
Sunday morning, August second, found us all at our posts as the sun
rose. Elizabeth and I drove down to Charly for eight o'clock mass, and
all along the road met men and boys on their way to the station. The
church was full, but there were only women and elderly men in the
assembly; why, we knew but too well, and many wives and mothers had come
there to hide their grief. Our curate was a very old man, and the news
had given him such a shock that he was unable to say a word after
reaching the pulpit and stood there, tongue-tied, with the tears
streaming down his face for nearly five minutes--finally retiring
without uttering a sound. Not exactly the most fortunate thing that
could have happened, for his attitude encouraged others to give way to
their emotions, and there was a most impressive silence followed by much
sniffling and nose-blowing! All seemed better, though, after the shower,
and the congregation disbanded with a certain sense of relief.
Before leaving home H. told me to seek out the grocer, and to lay in a
stock of everything she dispensed.
"You see," said he, "we're now cut off from all resources. There are no
big cities where we can get supplies, within driving reach, and our
grocers will have nothing to sell once their stock is exhausted. We're
living in the hope that the mobilization will last three weeks. That
will you do if it lasts longer? It never hurts to have a supply on
hand!"
"All my salt, sugar and gasoline has been put aside for the army. I was
ordered to do that this morning--but come around to the back door and
I'll see what I can do for you," said my amiable grocery-woman.
"That's pleasant," thought I. "No gasoline--no motor--no electricity!
Privation is beginning early. But why grumble! We'll go to bed with
the chickens and won't miss it!"
Madame Leger and I made out a long list of groceries and household
necessities, and she set to work weighing and packing, and finally began
piling the bundles into the trap drawn up close to her side door.
Our dear old Cesar must have been surprised by the load he had to carry
home, but Elizabeth and I decided that a "bird in the hand is worth two
in the bush," and one never could tell what astonishing "order"
to-morrow might bring forth.
How H. laughed when he saw us driving up the avenue.
"I didn't think you'd take me so literally," said he. "Why, war isn't
even declared, and here we are preparing for a siege!"
"Never mind," I returned, "you must remember that there are twelve
persons to feed, and we'll soon get away with all I've got here."
The afternoon was spent in arranging our apartments. For convenience
sake, we decided to close part of the chateau and all live as near
together as possible in one wing. The children and younger servants
seemed to consider the whole as a huge joke--or rather, a prolonged
picnic party, and the house rang with peals of jolly laughter.
Monday, the third, Elizabeth and I tackled the provisions which were
piled high on the table in the servants' hall. A visit to the storeroom
and a little calculation showed that there were sufficient groceries
already on hand to last the month out.
"Very good," said I. "Now, the rest we'll divide into three even parts
--that makes September, October and November assured. By that time
we'll know what precautions to take!"
"Well, I should hope so!" came the smiling reply. And we set to work.
It all recalled the days of my childhood when I used to play at
housekeeping and would measure out on the scales of my dolls' house so
much rice, so much flour, so much macaroni, etc. I could hardly believe
I was in earnest.
We were right in the midst of our task when our gardeners appeared
bearing between them a clothes basket full of plums.
"Madame, they can't wait a day longer. They're ready to cook now."
It was almost a disagreeable surprise, for we were already as busy as we
could be. But there was no way of waiting, or the fruit would be
spoiled.
"Is that all the plums?"
"Ah, no, Madame, there are fully two baskets more. And in a day or two
the blackberries and black currants must be picked or they'll rot on the
vines."
"Heaven preserve us!" thought I. "Will we ever come to the end of it
all!" But by four o'clock the first basket of plums was stoned, the
sugar weighed, and a huge copper basin of _confiture_ was merrily
boiling on the stove.
"Where are you going to hide your provisions now you've got them so
beautifully tied up?" enquired H., his eyes twinkling.
"Hide them?"
"Yes!"
"What for?"
"In case of invasion."
We all simply shook with laughter.
"Well, if the Germans ever reach here there won't be much hope for us
all," I returned.
"No, but joking aside; suppose we suddenly get the French troops
quartered on us, are you calmly going to produce your stock, let it be
devoured in a day or so, and remain empty-handed when they depart? You
see, it isn't the little fellows who'll suffer. A big place like this
with all its rooms and its stables is just the spot for a camp!"
That idea had never dawned upon us, and we set to thinking where we
could securely hide our groceries in three different places. Finally it
was agreed that one part should be put back of the piles of sheets in
the linen closet; the second part hidden on the top shelf of a very high
cupboard in my dressing-room with toilet articles grouped in front of
it; while the third was carried up a tiny flight of stairs to the attic
and there pushed through a small opening into the dark space that leads
to the beams and rafters. It was all so infantile that we clapped our
hands and were as happy as kings when we had discovered such a good
cachette.
Night was coming on as I stood pouring the last of the plum jam into the
glasses lined up along the kitchen table. Berthe had counted nearly a
hundred, and I was seriously thinking of adopting jam-making as a
profession, when with much noise and trumpeting, a closed auto whisked
up the avenue and stopped before the entrance. I hurried to the kitchen
door, untying my apron as I ran, arriving just as an officer jumped from
the motor, and before I had time to recognize him in his new uniform,
Captain Gauthier rushed forward, exclaiming:
"I've come to fetch Elizabeth and the children!"
The others, too, had heard the motor, and in an instant there was quite
an assembly in the courtyard.
"I had great difficulty leaving Paris at all. My passport is only good
until midnight," the captain was explaining as his wife and H. appeared,
and almost without time for greeting. "Make haste," he continued,
turning to Madame Gauthier. "We must be off in a quarter of an hour, or
our machine will never reach town on time."
I hurried with Elizabeth to her apartment, where we woke and dressed two
very astonished children, while the little maid literally threw the
toilet necessities and a few clothes into a huge Gladstone bag.
"Leon evidently doesn't think us safe down here! You'd better come,
too," murmured Elizabeth as we went downstairs.
In the meantime, H. had questioned our friend as to what had transpired
in Paris within the last twenty-four hours.
"England will probably join us--and there is every possibility of
Italy's remaining neutral," he announced, as we made our appearance. And
then--"You must come to Paris. You're too near the front here," he
continued, as he piled wife, babies and servant into the taxi.
And so, with hardly time for an adieu, the motor whisked away as it had
come, leaving H. and me looking beyond it into the night.
When I returned to the pantry, I found Nini weeping copiously. Imagining
she had become frightened by the sudden departure of our friends, I was
collecting my wits to console and reassure her, when she burst forth,
"Oh, Madame--Madame--the _pates--_"
"Well?"
"The lovely _pates!_--all burned to cinders! Such a waste!"
In our excitement we had forgotten to take from the oven two handsome
_Pates de lievre_ of which I was more than duly proud. And as Nini
expressed it, they were burned to cinders. How H. chuckled at our first
domestic mishap.
"Fine cooks, you are," said he, turning to Berthe and Nini, who hung
their heads and blushed crimson. "And it's to you that I'm going to
entrust Madame when I leave!"
Tuesday, the fourth, the drum rolled at an early hour and the
_garde-champetre_ announced the declaration of war. It was not news to
anyone, for all had considered the mobilization as the real thing.
We were breakfasting when we heard a strange rumbling up the road. It
was such a funny noise--midway between that of a steam roller and a
threshing machine--that we both went out towards the lodge to see what
was passing by. We were not a little surprised on perceiving our
gendarmes sitting in an antiquated motor, whose puffing and wheezing
betokened its age. They stopped when they saw us, and after exchanging
greetings, laughingly poked fun at their vehicle--far less imposing than
their well-groomed horses, but the only thing that could cover between
seventy and eighty miles a day! From them we learned that the
mobilization was being carried out in perfection, and in all their tours
to outlying villages and hamlets not a single delinquent had been found
--not a single man was missing! All had willingly answered the call to
arms!
Between the excitement and all the work that had to be done at Villiers,
time passed with phenomenal rapidity. As yet we had had no occasion to
perceive the lack of mail and daily papers, and though I had always had
a sub-conscious feeling that H. would eventually receive his marching
orders, it was rather a shock when they came. Being in a frontier
department he was called out earlier than expected. And instead of
being sent around-circuit way to reach his regiment south of Paris, he
was ordered to gain _Chateau Thierry_ at once, and there await
instructions.
Of course I packed and unpacked his bag for the twentieth time since
Sunday, in the hope of finding a tiny space to squeeze in one more
useful article--and then descending, I jumped into the cart and waited
for him to join me. In spite of the solemnity of the moment, I couldn't
help laughing when he appeared, for disdaining the immaculate costume I
had carefully laid out, he had put on a most disreputable-looking pair
of trousers, and an old paint-stained Norfolk jacket. A faded flannel
shirt and a silk bandanna tied about his throat completed this weird
accoutrement, which was topped by a long-vizored cap and a dilapidated
canvas gunny sack, the latter but half full and slung lightly over one
shoulder. Anticipating my question, he explained that it was useless to
throw away a perfectly new suit of clothes. When he should receive his
uniform, his civilian outfit ought to be put in safe keeping for his
return. This was customary in time of peace, but who could tell?--he
might never even get a uniform, let alone hoping to see the clothes
again.
And then, when I began examining the paltry contents of his sack, he
made light of my disappointment, saying that his father, who had served
in the campaign of 1870, had always told him that a ball of strong
string and a jackknife were sufficient baggage for any soldier. I
supposed he ought to know, and was just going to ask another question,
when--
"Listen," he said, as he put his foot on the step. "Listen--before I
forget. My will is at my notary's in Paris, and on your table is a
letter to your father--if anything happens to me you know what to do."
We drove away in silence.
I let the horses walk almost all the way home and my thoughts were busy,
very busy along the way. Here I was alone--husband and friends had
vanished as by magic. My nearest relatives over five thousand miles
away--and communication with the outside world entirely cut off, for
Heaven knew how long. Evidently there was nothing to do but to face the
situation, especially as all those in my employ save Julie were under
twenty, and looked to me for moral support. This was no time to
collapse. If I broke down anarchy would reign at once.
But what to do? Go on living like a hermit on that great big estate?
The idea appalled me. It seemed such a useless existence--and in a few
moments' time I had decided to turn the place into a hospital. But how
and to whom should I offer it?
I stopped at the _Gendarmerie_, where our friends were able to give me
information.
"The nearest sanitary formation was Soissons--the Red Cross Society. The
president would probably be able to help me--" So I thanked the
_gendarme_ and left there, having decided to drive thence on the morrow.
Soissons is but twenty miles as a bird flies, but almost double that by
the winding roadway, and I was calculating what time I should start and
where I would rest the span, as I entered the yard.
"Anything new, George?" I said, as he took the bridle.
"Nothing, Madame, save that we have received orders that all the horses
must be presented at Chateau Thierry for the revision to-morrow before
ten."
"All the horses?"
"Yes, Madame, with full harnessing, halters and the farm carts."
That was a surprise! Suppose they are all taken, thought I, I shall be
almost a prisoner. And my trip to Soissons?
"Don't unharness!" I called, as George drove towards the stable. "I'm
going back to Charly."
In our little township I managed to buy a lady's bicycle. "It may come
in handy," I thought. It was the last machine that was left. From the
shop I went to the hotel.
"Where's your husband?" I said to the proprietress.
"Why, he's gone with the chauffeur to take our motorbuses and taxi to
the requisition committee."
"What?"
"Yes, Madame."
"But I wanted him to motor me over to Soissons to-morrow!"
"Well, if he gets back to-night and they leave him a single machine,
I'll let you know, Madame."
In the afternoon the drum beat anew and I learned that all the bakers in
the village (there were three of them) having been called to the front,
we were likely to be without the staff of life. In the presence,
therefore, of the impending calamity, the village government had decided
to take over the bakery--it had found an old man and a very young
apprentice who would do the work, but each citizen was requested to
declare the number of persons composing his household and in order to
economize flour, so much bread would be allowed per bead and each family
must come and fetch his supply at the town hall between eleven and
twelve o'clock!
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