My Home In The Field of Honor by Frances Wilson Huard

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Needless to say, it must be paid for in cash, though the Board reserved
the right to look after the village poor. In like manner, all the salt
had been reserved for the army, and we were to be rationed to
seventy-five grammes a week per person! It all sounded rather terrible,
but when put into practice it was proved that the rations were very
generous and no one had reason to complain.

By four o'clock the next morning there was a perpetual stream of farm
carts down the road leading towards Chateau Thierry. I dressed and went
to the stables where George and Leon were already harnessing. More than
once I had a tight feeling in my throat as I patted the glossy backs of
dear old Cesar and my lovely span.

The girls had decorated the carts with huge bunches of poppies, daisies
and corn-flowers and in addition to these tri-color bouquets, a little
branch of laurel was stuck up over each horse's bridle. There was a
generous distribution of sugar, and each horse was kissed on the tip of
his nose, and then the boys joined the procession on the highroad.

I watched them out of sight. "Shall we ever get through saying
'good-bye'? When will these departures cease?" thought I, as I turned
from the gate. But I was given no time to muse, for a most amazing
clamor arose from a gateway a little higher up the road, and glancing in
that direction, I saw old father Poupard leading his horse and cart into
the open. He was followed by his wife and daughter-in-law, two brawny
peasant women, who were loudly lamenting the departure of their steed!

"No, no!" literally howled mother Poupard.

"This is the last straw! Both sons gone, and now our horse! Who's
going to bring in our crop? The Lord is unjust."

"And brother's babies--poor motherless things--in an orphan asylum at
Epernay! How can we get to them now? Oh, no! Oh, no--" wailed Julia.

"Poupard!" exclaimed his wife, drying her tears on the corner of her
apron and fixing her sharp blue eyes on her husband, "Poupard, no
loitering! If they pay you for your horse, remember, no foolishness.
You bustle back here with the money--we need you to help in the
vineyard."

"This is no time for sprees," wept Julia.

"Father Poupard," admonished his irate mate, brandishing a spade,
"Father Poupard, mind what I say!"

And then in a more moderate tone, but which was distinctly audible some
thirty yards away, "I've put a bottle into your lunch basket. You won't
need to buy anything more."

There was a distinct emphasis on the word _buy_, which told me that
mother Poupard, evidently accustomed to her husband's ways, had provided
plentifully for his journey but had carefully emptied his pockets before
he started.

I went back to my preserves, but as the day wore on the lack of all
communication with the outside world began to prey on me. Towards four
o'clock I took my bicycle and started down to Charly. A quarter of a
mile from our gate, in front of the town hall, a mason had driven two
huge posts, into the ground on either side of the road, and was swinging
a heavy chain between them.

I looked askance at the schoolmaster who stood in the doorway surveying
the work. He explained that he had received instructions to the effect
that all passers-by unknown to this village were to be stopped and asked
for their papers. The men and boys who remained were to take turns
mounting guard, and thus to help to eradicate the circulation of spies.
Two suspicious motors and a man on a bicycle had already been signaled.
Should they appear and fail to produce their papers, immediate arrest
would follow. Should they offer the slightest opposition or attempt
escape, the sentinels had orders to shoot.

I enquired if it would be necessary for we to have a _sauf-conduit,_
being bound for Charly, and possibly the station at Nogent, where I
hoped that the soldiers of a passing train would throw me a newspaper.

Mr. Duguey replied that he would gladly present me with the first
passport, and seemed wonderfully taken with my idea about the papers. He
admitted that living in darkness was beginning to get on his nerves,
too, and asked me, in case my plan should prove successful, if I would
be willing to put it on the public sign board so all could see the news.
I acquiesced willingly, and after he had asked a few questions as to
names, age, characteristics and destination, he stamped the seal on my
paper, and I departed.

At Charly the same preparations had been made, and two elderly men,
leaning on their guns, smiled as I presented my paper for their
inspection.

At the hotel, the proprietor had just returned after having waited
nearly twenty-four hours in line to present his machines. All save one
had been bought for the army. But with his double-seated taxi he
promised to drive me to Soissons the following morning.

I continued my road, and reached Nogent to find that I was not alone in
my idea about begging the papers. Several others from neighboring
villages, so I heard, had already succeeded in obtaining a sheet, and
had driven off hastily with their trophies. My proceeding was very
simple. It consisted of crossing the rails to the up-train platform, to
stand in line with the other women already assembled, there to wait like
birds on a fence until a train coming from Paris passed by. Then as it
whizzed through the station, we shouted in chorus, "_Les journaux! Les
jour-naux!_"

It worked like magic. We had hardly been there two minutes when a train
was signaled.

As it approached, we could see that engine and cars were decorated with
garlands of flowers, and trailing vines, while such inscriptions as,
"_Train de Plaisir pour Berlin,_" and numerous caricatures had been
chalked on the varnished sides of the carriages.

Our appeals were not in vain. With joyful shouts, the boys gladly threw
us the papers which were welcomed like the rain of manna in the desert.
I managed to collect two, _L'Action Franfaise_, and _Le Bonnet Rouge_.

Until others and fresher were procured, the Royalist and the
Revolutionary sheets hung side by side on the public sign board at
Villiers, proving that under the Third Republic, _Liberte', Egalite',
Fraternite_ are not vain words.

The news of the violation of Luxembourg and Belgian territory created
less sensation than one might have expected. In the circumstances news
of any kind seemed a blessing.

There was still quite a gathering in front of the town hall when the
first carts began to return from the revision. They were few and far
between, compared with the double line that had driven past in the
morning. My heart leapt with joy, as I saw George, driving Cesar, turn
into the court.

"Too old, Madame," he said, his eyes shining. "Though still so game
that they nearly kept him. He's reserved for a second call."

"And Florentin and Cognac?"

The boy put his hand into his pocket and held out a slip of paper. I
took it and read, "_Bon pour 1,200 francs, prix de 2 chevaux, etc._"

"Well, thank God, we've got one left anyhow," thought I as I entered the
hall. Just then the gate creaked and I could vaguely distinguish in the
deepening twilight the forms of mother Poupard and Julia hurrying
towards the stables. I followed.

"George! George!" called Julia.

"Well?" came the answer from within.

"George--where's the old man?" queried mother Poupard in excited tones.

"How do I know?"

"Was our horse taken? Can you tell us that?"

"I think so; yes."

"Then why didn't Poupard come back with you and Leon in the cart? Did
you see him?"

"Yes."

"Where was he?"

"In front of a cafe as we drove past."

"Oh, the old villain! The wretch! Oh, _mon Dieu,_ what shall we do!
Oh, the wicked old man--if I had him here, I'd thrash him good!"

And mother Poupard began brandishing a pitch-fork with such violence
that I commenced to fear that failing her delinquent spouse, she would
fall upon George to wreak vengeance.

"Oh, the old devil! Oh--"

"Look here, I'm not his nurse--now clear out, the lot of you!"

The injunction served its purpose, for remembering they were "not at
home," the two women retired in high dudgeon, wailing and lamenting in
such audible tones that their neighbors came out to see what was the
matter, and laughed at mother Poupard's threat of what she would do if
ever she got _le vieux_ into her clutches.

By six A. M. on the Friday I had breakfasted and was ready to leave for
Soissons. The taxi from the Hotel du Balcon made its appearance a few
moments later, and after a visit to the town hall, where we secured the
necessary passports, we set off on our journey.

At the entrance to every little village we were obliged to halt and
exhibit our papers--after which formality the chain would be let down
and we allowed to go our way.

Half an hour later as we crossed Chateau Thierry we could see the rows
of horses that had not yet been examined lined up along the square. The
commissaries had worked all night and their task was still far from
finished.

Until we reached Oulchy-le-Chateau, the chains were the only outward
signs that betokened the belligerent state of the country, and even then
as those who mounted guard were not in uniform, it seemed rather as
though we were passing a series of toll-gates. However, as we ran along
the splendid roads between the great fertile plains, I observed that the
harvesting was being done chiefly by women, and that the roads
themselves were empty of any vehicle. Evidently only those who had an
important errand were allowed on the _routes nationals_, thus kept clear
for the transport of troops or ammunition.

At Oulchy, half-way to Soissons, we halted at a railway crossing to let
a long, lazy train drag out of the station. When at length the bars
were drawn up, much excitement reigned on the little platform which we
had been unable to see from the other side of the rails. Young girls
with pails and dippers in their hands stood chattering with women in
wrappers, whose disheveled appearance told plainly that they had been
hastily awakened and had hurried thence without thinking of their
_toilette_.

"What is it?" I asked of the _garde-barriere_.

"Wounded!"

"Wounded?"

"Yes--the first. Not badly wounded and they are able to travel, but
unable to hold a gun. And they were all so thirsty!"

Poor fellows, thought I, already out of the ranks and the first week is
not yet passed.

More persuaded than ever of the utility of my mission, I did not stop
longer but pushed on towards Soissons. Half a mile further up the road,
an elderly man carrying a package, hailed the motor. We slowed down,
and hat in hand he approached.

"I beg pardon for the liberty I'm taking,"' he said, "but might I ask
where you're bound?"

"Soissons."

"You would be rendering a great service to the municipality if you would
allow me to ride with you in the empty seat. You see, the youngsters
who are left to reap the crops have broken the only machine in the
community, and we can't go on harvesting until it is repaired or
replaced. There are no mechanics left, and moreover, no horses that
could take us to Soissons to find one, so I've offered to go on
foot--but that means at least two full days lost before we can continue
our work."

"Get in at once," I said, and we rolled off.

It was not long before I had drawn his history from this village
alderman, an Alsatian by birth, and his tales of the war of 1870 helped
to wile away the time we were obliged to spend idling along the roadside
while our chauffeur repaired our first puncture. The emergency wheel
clapped on, we were soon en route again. My companion duly uncovered as
we passed the monument to the soldiers of the Franco-Prussian War,
almost hidden in a lovely chestnut grove, in the heart of the forest of
Hartennes.

On the outskirts of Soissons we came upon a squadron of the Ninth
Territorial Regiment, resting after the morning exercises. These
soldiers much resembled the "bushy-bearded" creatures whom I had seen
guarding the Eastern Railway, save that they were even more picturesque,
for most of them wore straw sombreros. As we passed the captain on his
horse, my companion lifted his hat and the officer replied with a
salute.

"A friend of yours?" I ventured.

"No. Never saw him before."

"But you bowed, I thought."

"Certainly. He's an officer on duty in time of war, and all civilians
owe him that courtesy."

I liked that and fancied it were old-time urbanity, though often since I
have seen it proved that the custom is not obsolete.

A little further on we came to a very jolly squadron, the cooks, who
were peeling fresh vegetables and pouring them into immense
wash-boilers, which, when filled, two privates seized by the handles and
carried towards a big barracks some hundred yards distant.

Presently we hit a cobbled road which must have been a joy to all heavy
machines, but which nearly jolted us out of our light vehicle. Patience
and good humor were very rapidly disappearing when we rounded a curve,
struck the good macadam, and I saw the twin spires of St. Jean rising
majestically against the clear blue summer sky.

At our right I noticed the entrance gate to a chateau over which hung a
big Red Cross, such as I coveted for my home, and then in a moment we
were already in a _faubourg_ of Soissons. It was not unlike the
entrance to any other provincial city in ordinary times, save that there
were many red-trousered men mixed in with the other population. There
were no chains across the road, but four soldiers in uniform mounted
guard. We showed _patte blanche_ and proceeded to ask for the Red Cross
headquarters.

"Madame Macherez is the president. You must go to her. Cross the city
and go out east towards St. Paul. Her chateau is there."

Naturally we headed straight for our destination, but were stopped every
other minute by police who side-tracked us into back streets. The big
thoroughfares must be kept clear for the army!

I set down my old friend near the town hall, and told him that I should
be returning about noon. If he were ready, I would be glad to give him
a lift. Would he meet us in front of the _Hotel du Soleil d'Or?_

He was delighted, and promised to be on time.

We crossed the Aisne; I must say rather heedlessly, little dreaming that
in so short a time it would be the object of such desperate and bloody
disputes--nor so historically famous.

The Chateau de St. Paul sits, or rather, sat back from the road,
surrounded by its lovely garden and a high wall. I left my motor and
entered the grounds, preceded by a servant who had opened the gate. In
a small drawing room I presented myself to a very charming young person
already installed behind a desk, though it was scarcely half-past eight,
and explained the object of my visit.

"Madame Macherez will be delighted. I'm her secretary, and I can assure
you she will do all she can to further your plans. Would you mind
waiting just a few moments? She'll be down presently. You see," she
continued, "we have been up all night. We suddenly had part of a
regiment quartered on us, and the officers who slept here were coming
and going most of the time. I beg you will excuse the dust, but they
haven't been gone long enough for us to make things tidy. There were
twenty here, and two hundred men in the outbuildings which makes quite a
_remue menage._"

Just then the president of the _Association des Dames Franpaises_ came
in.

Madame Macherez, a fine looking, elderly woman with iron-gray hair and
clear blue eyes, is the widow of former Senator Macherez. Her keen
understanding and wonderful business ability have won her the respect
and esteem of two entire nations; both friend and enemy are united in
their praises of this wonderful person.

I was not long in explaining my intentions--I could supply sixty beds,
with room for the double; would take all the management of a hospital,
gladly help with the nursing, but must have a doctor and other
professional aid.

Madame Macherez accepted my proposition, knew just the person I needed,
and taking off her badge pinned it on to the lapel of my coat and made
me a member of her society.

"Now, then, let's get through with the formalities at once. Here is
your _carte d'identite_. You must paste your photo on to it. With that
and an armlet stamped from the War Department you will have free access
to all the roads and you won't have to be bothered with other papers.
Let us go at once to the city hall, where they will stamp their seal on
your card, which makes it valid for your identity. From there we must
hunt out the colonel in command and get his seal. That makes it valid
with military authorities."

The president's motor was waiting outside the door.

"How long shall we be?"

"Ah, an hour at least."

I turned to my chauffeur who was tampering with his punctured tire.

"Go and see if you can't find a new inner tube, and meet me at the
_Hotel du Soled d'Or_ where I will lunch, at eleven."

"But I just put in a new inner tube."

"Have you got an extra one?"

"No, but I've my emergency wheel--"

"Never mind. Another inner tube may come in handy."

"Very well, Madame."

Madame Maeberez was waiting, so I jumped in next her and we drove to the
town ball. Though the war was scarcely a week old her office was
already installed in the Hotel de Ville, and several hospitals were well
on the way towards complete organization. In a big room white-capped
women (the first I had seen of the kind) were counting bandages, linen
and underclothing, laying out huge piles for such and such a hospital.

While Madame M. was answering numerous questions which besieged her on
her entrance, her secretary took note of what was lacking in my
ambulance, promised to forward it at once by motor, and gave me an
agreement to sign.

In the meantime, someone had carried my card to the mayor who affixed
his seal, and my armlet appeared as though by magic.

Now, then, for the colonel! And we hastened away again at a moment's
notice.

As we drove through the quaint little city, my eye was attracted more
than once by a splendid bit of Louis XIV architecture. The college, the
convent, the churches and even some private residences were wonderful
examples of that exquisitely decorative period. As it was my first
visit to Soissons I regretted not having brought my kodak, but when I
spoke of this to Madame Macherez she expressed her delight at my
admiration of her native city, but was extremely glad that I had not
ventured out alone with a camera. Unknown persons with photographic
paraphernalia were suspicious these times. It was best to leave such
things at home.

Just then we were winding up a narrow street and the chauffeur was
tooting in vain, trying to persuade a half-dozen soldiers carrying bales
of bay on their backs, to make room for us to get by. With much evident
reluctance the first man drew a bit to the right, the second vociferated
something in a picturesque patois, and just as we passed the third, I
leaned forward and grabbed the driver by the collar.

"Stop, stop a minute!" I gasped.

He must have thought I was mad, and Madame M. probably imagined I had
suddenly lost my wits, when she saw me plunge out of the motor, race
towards one of the bales, tear it from the carrier's back with a
violence that nearly upset the man, and then, throwing my arms about his
neck, embrace him.

"You? Already?" gasped H., and then as we realized that we were making
a public spectacle of ourselves, the color rose to our cheeks.

A hasty explanation followed, in which I told my plans.

"And you, what on earth are you doing here?" I questioned.

"Well--just what you see. All of us from Villiers have been sent to
bring horses to the front, and a fine job it is. I wish you could see
the nags! None of them rideable!"

"But after they're delivered--what?"

"I wish I knew myself."

"And when can we meet?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible. We're off again to-night for God knows
where!"

And H. seeing that he was already far behind his companions, threw me a
hasty adieu and was gone!

The colonel was absent, but would return _tout de suite,_ and Madame
Macberez and I lost nearly an hour waiting. When he appeared, however,
he was most gracious, excused himself very politely and immediately
stamped my card. Then having all the necessary papers, I begged Madame
to drop me at the hotel, and to return to her bureau, where I knew there
was work enough for a half-dozen such as she. She did as I requested,
and we parted--she promising to visit Villiers as soon as she could
dispose of an afternoon.

I was the only woman in the hotel dining room for luncheon. The food
was good, but the service impossible, as there were some forty men,
mostly officers, very hungry, and only one decrepit waiter to do the
work. Good humor prevailed, each diner making allowances, and here for
the first time I heard that expression, destined to become so popular as
an excuse for almost anything: _Cest la guerre!_

My chauffeur kept me waiting, but my friend the alderman was on time.
Finally the motor made its appearance. Something had happened on
leaving St. Paul in the morning and the poor _hotelier_ had searched the
entire city for a mechanic, but to no avail. All were _au service de
l'armee_. Finally he had had to patch up things as best he could. As
to an extra inner tube--such a thing didn't exist. We would have to take
our chances with the wheel he had.

We started, but hadn't gone two hundred yards when a back tire blew off!

Well, thank goodness, we hadn't left town. So I returned to the hotel,
and while Huberson and the alderman were fixing up damages and adjusting
the emergency wheel, I had time to read all the back numbers of
_Illustration,_ which the _Soled d'Or_ possessed, and commence a
conversation with the proprietress, who sat in the court shelling peas
for dinner. She was certain that the war would be over in three months
at the utmost!

At length I went out to see if I couldn't be of some assistance in the
motor business, but Huberson said it would be ready in a few moments. As
far as I could make out, my alderman friend was mostly a decorative
personality, for he stood there with his hat on the back of his head,
gesticulating vehemently, but never deigning to help my chauffeur in the
slightest manner. When I asked him if he knew Soissons well and
inquired if he could direct me to certain grocers where I could perhaps
obtain a few provisions, he insisted on showing me the shops, with an
alacrity which proved his incompetence at motor repairing.

During that short promenade on foot, we encountered the whole Ninth
Territorial Regiment--not under arms but _au repos_. The men were
seated in front of the barracks reading the papers or idly smoking their
pipes, and all yearning for "something to do." Their wish, I fear, has
been more than satisfied.

Start number two proved successful and we sped along very comfortably
until we hit that long cobbled road. The day was exceedingly warm, the
stones sun-baked, and after the first mile or so I saw Huberson looking
nervously at his fore wheel. His anxiety was well founded, for half a
minute later, whizz!--I could feel the rubber splitting!

We stopped and all climbed out.

"It's all up!" he exclaimed. "Not one--but two tires are burst, and the
shoe of the emergency wheel is flapping like an old dirty rag!"

"Now, in my time--" began the alderman.

"Never mind about your time, old man. If you want to get back to Oulchy
and that mowing machine before Christmas, you've got to pitch in and
help," cut in Huberson, whose nerves could no longer stand the strain.
Our friend took the hint and began stripping off his coat. We were
eight miles from Soissons, on the upgrade of a cobbled road, full in the
sun. It was three P. M. on a stifling August day!

The men must have spent an hour trying to make impossible repairs--they
knew it was no use walking back to Soissons where aid had already been
refused, and it was evident from the condition of the tubes that there
was no hope of mending them.

What to do?

"I'll tell you," said I (and I must admit that I spoke for the sake of
saying something), "I'll tell you! Suppose you take out the inner tubes
and stuff the shoes with grass!"

The men looked at me as if I had suddenly gone out of my mind. Their
contempt was so apparent that it wilted me.

"Yes--I'm serious."

And then arose a series of protestations which common sense bade me
heed, but which didn't advance our cause in the slightest. When we had
lost a full half-hour more arguing the question, I once again
proclaimed my original idea.

The driver glanced at me in despair and shrugged his shoulders. "The
least we can do is try."

So saying, we fell to work tearing up grass and weeds. And that is how
I came to ride over thirty miles on three grass-stuffed tires, which,
thanks to the heat, towards the end of the journey began sending forth
little jets of green liquid much to the astonishment of all those who
saw us pass.

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