My Home In The Field of Honor by Frances Wilson Huard

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Nor were my fears in vain, for one afternoon we beard a shriek and a
splash, followed by cries of terror, and we knew for certain that some
one had fallen into the moat. The embankment is not eight feet high,
and at that season of the year there is more mud than water in the
river, so I was certain that whoever had fallen in was in no danger of
drowning--but nevertheless I hastened with the others to the spot.

George, who had also heard the noise, reached the scene of action before
we did, and on our arrival we found him knee deep in the mud, preparing
to hoist a little limp body on to the bank.

Johnny Poupard!

"Good heavens!" thought I. "Decidedly that family had no intention of
letting the village rust for want of dramatic situations!"

"He's merely fainted; more frightened than hurt," declared Madame Guix,
who had literally pounced upon him. "Now then, ladies," she said,
turning towards the women who stood gaping at us, "now then, here's a
splendid opportunity to distinguish yourselves."

And so little John Poupard was carried into the infirmary. As first
patient you may be sure that be received every attention. Some ammonia
was held under his nose. This soon brought him around and after
carefully sounding all his bones, Madame Guix decided that there were no
fractures. And the bandaging began!

It makes me smile when I think of it all now--for the only wounds Johnny
possessed were a few scratches on his bands, knees and head, caused by
his sudden contact with a patch of stinging nettles which had sprung up
on the river banks.

Under ordinary circumstances, the child would probably have picked
himself up and walked home, forgetting his woes an hour later. But real
live models who are actually in pain, are few and far between,
especially at "courses" such as ours, and the amount of professional
skill that was expended on that little urchin ought to have cured six of
his kind. But it all made the women so happy!

At the end of half an hour, Johnny Poupard looked more like an Egyptian
mummy than a human being, so much so that when his grandmother arrived
upon the scene of action, she very nearly fainted and all but became
patient number two at Auxiliary Hospital No. 7!

We had some little difficulty reassuring her, but when her prodigal
grandson sat up and asked for bread and jam, she forgot her anxiety and
began scolding him for daring to give her such a fright, and us so much
trouble.

* * * *

Towards the end of the third week in August the mobilization was
considered finished and the Eastern Railroad opened again to the public;
its time tables of course being limited and subject to instant change,
the company refusing to be responsible for delays. To us at the chateau
this meant very little, save that we would receive our mail and the
daily papers more frequently. However, several friends who fancied I
was unsafe alone and so far from the capital, kindly ventured to start
to Villiers to try to persuade me to come up to town. It took them seven
hours to reach Meaux (thirty miles from Paris); they were obliged to
sleep there because it was because it was announced that their train
went no further--and worse than all, they were eighteen hours getting
home.

"Wheren't people furious?" I questioned, when afterwards they told me of
their adventure.

"Not in the slightest. Everyone bore it patiently as part of his
tribute to his country. 'The army first' was their motto."

The first batch of mail brought me any number of stale letters, which
had arrived and been held in Paris over three weeks. Invitations to a
house party in Belgium and things of that kind that seemed so strangely
out of place now. The two most important documents, however, came, one
from my cousin, Marie Huard (Superior at the Convent of the Infant Jesus
at Madrid) and the other from Elizabeth Gauthier.

My cousin had taken upon herself to locate and communicate with every
member of the Huard family called to arms (and they are numerous, when
one considers that H. has no less than twelve married uncles!) and she
enclosed me a sort of map, or family tree, indicating the names, ages,
regiments, etc., of some fifty cousins, begging me to write and
encourage them from time to time.

Elizabeth Gauthier's letter bore a black border--and I trembled as I
opened it. She was in Paris alone, and mourning the loss of her eldest
brother, killed at the battle of Mulhouse, the ninth of August. Her
solitude preyed upon her, and she announced her departure for her
sister's chateau in Burgundy.

That was the first real sadness that the war had brought me so far. It
quite upset me, for Jean Bernard was not only a delightful friend, but
one of the most promising engineers of the younger generation in France.
Both family, friends and country might well deplore such a loss.

Even the making and hoisting of a huge Red Cross flag over the chateau
failed to arouse my enthusiasm all that day. The blow was too cruel and
had stimulated fears which heretofore had lain dormant within me.

The next day, however, I was not permitted to brood over my grief, for
Yvonne (she of the poultry farm) fell ill with a severe attack of
sciatica, which kept her in her bed, every movement producing a scream
of agony.

Of course Madame Guix was there to lend a hand, but that hardly altered
the situation, so I was obliged to ask the boys to give another "pull"
and try to be equal to the work. Lleon accepted with such alacrity
that for the first time it dawned on me that perhaps he had a soft spot
in his heart for my pretty little goose girl, and this unsuspected
romance, interwoven with the joys and anxieties of the moment, seemed
all the more charming.

To cap the climax of misfortune, old Cesar had run a nail into his hoof
and Madame Guix spent most of her time between injections of oxygen on
the first floor, and iodine and flaxseed poultices in the stables. This
of course meant that all errands outside the village must be made on
bicycle, and George was "mustered into service." Towards noon on the
27th he made his first return trip from Charly, bringing the mail and
the papers, and a very excited countenance.

"Madame, I've seen one!" he shouted, as I appeared in the doorway.

"Seen what?"

"_Un casque a' point!_"

"A what!"

"Yes--a pointed helmet. I was standing by the post office in Charly
when a long line of motors passed by on the road to Paris. I recognized
the Belgium uniform, and one of the soldiers leaned out and held up a
German helmet! What a trophy!"

"The Belgians! What on earth are they doing down here?" thought I. And
George guessed my question.

"Oh," he continued, "you see their regiment was cut in two by the
Germans at Charleville and those who escaped managed to get motors and
are on their way home--by a round-about route to Antrwerp via Havre.
The hotel keeper said so. She offered some wine to one motor full that
stopped."

If that were true it was an amazing bit of news! Then things were not
going as well as the now very reticent papers led one to suppose. But
it all seemed so very distant that I refused to worry.

However, I was about to seek out Madame Guix and tell her what George
had reported when an amusing sight caught my eye.

From her open window, towards which she had asked that we push her bed,
Yvonne amused herself by calling her ducklings.

"Bour-ree--bour-ree!"

Then from the farmyard a good two hundred yards distant, would rise the
reply, "Quack! Quack! Quack!"

Big and small recognized the call of their little mistress and hastened
to respond.

"Bouree-bour-ree-bouree!" called Yvonne again and again.

Evidently the ducks decided to hold a consultation and send delegates to
see what on earth prevented their friend from caring for them in person
since they could hear her voice. For as I looked across the lawn
towards the door, imagine my surprise on catching sight of some thirty
or forty Rouenese ducks of all sizes waddling up the steps and into the
vestibule.

"Bour-ree, bouree!" Yvonne continued.

"Quack, quack, quack!" came the reply, and when I reached the entrance
hall, I found them all clustered together at the foot of the staircase,
their beads cocked on one side, awaiting a decision of their drake
before undertaking to mount the marble stairway.

That same afternoon the _cour d'infirmieres_ transported itself to the
lawn in front of the chateau. It was too splendid weather to stay
indoors. The demonstrations were finished and most of the women had
retired, when one of those who remained lifted her finger and asked for
silence. "Listen," she said, "the cannon!" She didn't need to go any
further. In less than a second's time we were straining our ears
towards the east!

"There!" she said, "there it goes again!"

Three of us had heard a sound which strangely resembled the popping of a
cork at a very great distance. Remembering my grandmother's Indian
stories, I stretched out on the grass with my ear to the ground. This
time I heard the rolling so distinctly that my face must have altered,
for two of the woman shuddered and took hasty leave.

In a second I guessed that they were off to tell the news--so I made
light of it by declaring that it must be the trying-out of some heavy
artillery at Chalons; but when Madame Guix and I found ourselves alone,
we looked at each other with interrogation points in our eyes.

We thought of our hospital, of our supplies, of our perfect uselessness
unless Soissons could yet reach us--and I resolved to go down to the
druggist at Charly and see what could be done. The following morning,
Saturday, the twenty-ninth--I betook myself to Charly and there managed
to beg the elements of a rudimentary infirmary from the old pharmacist,
who must have thought me crazy. Absorbent cotton I was able to procure
in small rolled packages from the draper, and promising to send the boys
down in the afternoon with a small band cart, I returned home, without
having observed anything abnormal save the frequent passage of autos
towards Paris--all going top speed and loaded with the queerest
occupants and baggage.

On my return great excitement reigned around our gate, for a private
automobile containing wounded had halted on seeing our Red Cross flag,
and Madame Guix welcomed them in.

They were _petit blesses_, all able to travel, probably suffering more
from heat and privation than from their wounds. They had no orders to
stop, but hoped we would let them rest a bit before going further--and
could we give them something to eat?

All this was very fortunate considering our precarious situation and we
gladly did the best we knew how. There were six poor chaps belonging to
different regiments, but all so tired that it seemed cruel to prevent
their snatching a rest by plying them with questions. We could do that
later on.

The lads were hardly stretched out when another motor drew up before the
gate. This one contained besides three privates a young officer with his
arm in a sling, and he asked if we could give them water. Leon told
them that they would be very welcome if they would care to come in and
rest--there were already a half-dozen wounded asleep in the house. At
these words the lieutenant jumped down and asked for the _medicin-chef_.
He was rather startled when I appeared, and told him that there was no
military authority as yet installed at the chateau.

"Then I must take all the responsibility of the men," he said very
kindly but firmly. "I'm sorry, but they cannot remain here. I must
deliver them safe at some big center outside the zone of operations."

The time had come for questions--and I learned with amazement that Liege
had fallen, Belgium was invaded, and that hard fighting was going on at
St. Quentin, but eighty miles away. "The cannon of yesterday was no
target practice," thought I. The men all seemed so hopeful, though,
that we never felt a qualm.

"As you will, Monsieur," I said, and the weary boys were wakened and
hurried off before we had time to ask names, addresses or any further
details.

All this had transpired so rapidly that we had had no time to call in
our assistants, and presently Madame Guix and I found ourselves alone in
the empty vestibule.

IV

Nothing further happened that afternoon. Madame Guix's course went on
as usual, with perhaps a little more animation in the conversation, and
much speculation as to when and where those who had stopped at the
chateau had been wounded. No one really knew. To tell the truth,
though later Madame Guix and I had asked them, the soldiers themselves
had but a very indistinct idea of time and date or whereabouts.

That night I was awakened by the low rumbling of heavy carts on the road
in front of the chateau. Fancying that perhaps it was artillery on its
way to the front, I put on my dressing gown and went as far as the gate.
There in the pale moonlight I beheld a long stream of carriages and
wagons of every description piled high with household goods, and filled
with women and children. The men walked beside the horses to prevent
collision, for as far as eye could see, the lamentable _cortege_
extended down the hill.

What did this mean?

"Who are you?" I called to one of the men as they passed.

"Belgians--refugees."

Refugees! My mind flew back to descriptions of the French Revolution
and the Reign of Terror, when so many people fled for their lives! What
nonsense! Were we not in the twentieth century? Wasn't there a Peace
Palace at The Hague? My thoughts became muddled.

Opening the gate, I went out and accosted another man.

"Won't you come in and rest?"

"No, we can't. We must make our twenty miles by dawn--and rest during
the heat of the day."

"But why do you leave home?"

"Because the savages burned us out!"

Bah, the man must be dreaming!

I turned back and addressed myself to another:

"What's your hurry?" I queried

"They're on our heels!" came the reply.

Surely this one was madder than the other!

A third did not deign to reply, sturdily marching on ahead, his eyes
fixed on the road in front of him.

On top of a farm cart half filled with bay I saw the prostrate form of a
woman with two others kneeling beside her ministering to her wants. In
the trap that followed was the most sorrowful group of old men and
middle-aged women I ever hope to see. All were sobbing. Besides them
rode two big boys on bicycles. I stopped one of these.

"What's the matter with her?" I questioned, pointing to the woman on the
cart.

"She's crazy."

"?"

"Yes, lost her mind."

"How, when, where?"

"Two days ago, when we left X. (Try as I may, I cannot recall the name
of the little Belgian town be mentioned.) She was ill in bed with a
fever when the Germans set fire to the place--barely giving us time to
hoist her into the cart. Her husband lingered behind to scrape a few
belongings together. In spite of our efforts, she would stand up on the
cart, and suddenly we heard an explosion and she saw her house burst
into flame. She fainted. Outside in the woods we waited an hour, but
her husband never came. Perhaps it's just as well, for when she woke up
her mind was a blank!"

Ye gods! I rubbed my eyes. It couldn't be possible that all this was
true! I was asleep! It was merely a horrible nightmare. But no--the
carts rolled on in the pale moonlight carrying their heavy burdens of
human misery.

It was more than I could stand. All thought of sleep had vanished, so I
went and woke Madame Guix. We dressed and descended to the kitchen,
where with a few smoldering embers, we soon managed to light a good
fire. Water was set to boil and in half an hour's time we carried out
to the bridge two huge pails of hot coffee, a pail of cold water, and
one of wine. No one refused our offerings, and the hearty "God bless
you's" of those kindly souls brought tears to our eyes more than once.

Dawn, Monday, August 31st, found us still at our posts. I rang the farm
bell, assembled my servants, and told them we would abandon all but the
most necessary farm work and minister to the wants of the refugees. By
eight o'clock they had peeled and prepared vegetables enough to fill two
huge copper pots, and the soup was set to boil. And still the long line
of heavy vehicles followed one another down the road: moving vans,
delivery wagons, huge drays, and even little three-wheeled carts drawn
by dogs, rolled on towards the south.

When asked where they were going, most of the people replied, "Straight
ahead of us, _a' la grace de Dieu_."

By the morning the heat had grown intolerable and a splendid looking man
got down from a cart and came towards me. Might he turn his party into
the drive and rest a bit in the shade?

I was only too willing, and gladly offered hot soup and stewed fruit to
any who would accept.

Two long heavy drays each drawn by a pair of the handsomest big bay
horses with creamy manes that I have ever seen, pulled up in the
courtyard. Impromptu seats had been arranged in the wagons and from
these climbed down some twenty or thirty old women, children and men,
worn out by the fatigue, anxiety, and want of sleep. My heart went out
to them, and in a generous moment I was about to offer them my beds so
they could get a good rest before starting off again, but on second
thought it dawned on me that I must keep them for the army! What a
pretty thing it would be if another auto full of wounded suddenly
appeared and found all my wards occupied!

I explained my position. They grasped it at once. It was too good of
me. They were all well and needed no beds--would I let them sleep in
the bay for a few hours?

But better still, I suggested, if the boys would carry a dozen or so
extra mattresses I possessed into the harness room, the women might lie
there, and the men could take to the hay.

They had food, plenty of it, bought on the way from village dealers who
had not yet been seized with panic and shut up shop. So I told them
that instead of building individual fires they might cook their noonday
meal on my huge range. They might also use my kitchen utensils and china
if they would wash up, and thus save unpacking their own. Apparently
this was unheard of generosity and I cannot tell you how many times that
morning my soul was recommended to the tender protection of the Blessed
Virgin.

While the women prepared the meal, George had taken the men to the
wash-house, where soap and water worked miracles on their dusty faces;
one by one all the members of the group disappeared in that direction
and when they gathered around the long table in the refectory, it was
altogether a different company to that of an hour before.

As they sat down it came over me that none of us had eaten since the
night before, and dropping onto a chair, I suddenly realized that I was
tired. Berthe and Nini, however, wanted to know where I would lunch,
and were rather startled when I informed them to lay a cloth on the
kitchen table and to bring out all the cold meat, cheese, bread, butter
and jam in the larder. It would be a stand-up picnic lunch for everyone
to-day, and what was more, it was very likely to be picnic dinner; so
Julie was ordered to put two chickens to roast and some potatoes to
boil--both needed but little attention and would always be ready when we
might need them.

The meal passed in silence in both rooms, and the "washing up" was done
in no time. Then as they all retired to take their naps, the man who
had first asked me if they might turn into the chateau, and who seemed
to be the leader of the party, came into the kitchen and, hat in hand,
begged a word or so with me.

He had come not only to express the gratitude of his compatriots, but
also his astonishment that I should welcome strangers so cordially. I
tried to side-track the conversation which was very embarrassing, but he
would hear none of it.

"We are not gypsies, you know, Madame." I smiled and told him that that
was more than evident. "Look at our horses and our dogs!" And the good
fellow proceeded to inform me that he was the keeper of a big estate
that belonged to Madame Pyrme (sister of the senator of that name),
situated in the little village of Hanzinell, Belgium. He even offered
to show his papers, but I shook my head. His open-hearted sincerity
and frank countenance were sufficient.

But why had they come away? That was what interested me.

Because their country was invaded and one by one the towns and villages
had been bombarded, looted and burned until little or nothing remained.
Because all men under fifty were carried away as hostages or prisoners;
because he had seen little children slain, and young girls tortured;
because anything was better than falling helpless into the hands of such
an enemy.

"Madame, at Charleroi I've seen the blood running in the gutters like
rain after a storm and that not a week ago!"

It was impossible not to believe him. His eye was not that of a coward.
He told his story simply; he was almost reticent, and I had even to
encourage him at times to make him finish a phrase. Finally I asked him
where he intended going, and why so far away. Didn't he think he was
safe here?

No--_jamais!_ Yesterday in the night they had heard the cannon growing
closer and closer. They knew the sound. The Germans were advancing. It
was Paris they wanted and nothing would stop them till they reached
their goal.

"Except the French army," I said, with pride.

"God grant you speak the truth, Madame!" But in the meantime he seemed
to consider that one was far safer in the way of some gigantic
mowing-machine than on the path of the German army. He had come to tell
me the truth and to warn me that I ought to make ready to leave.

"You are helpless here, Madame. Three women, three little girls, and
two boys! It's tempting fate."

I couldn't seem to see it his way, however. The papers though very
mysterious, had given us no cause for alarm. As yet we had not seen a
single trooper. If it were true that the French were retreating we
would leave when the army appeared. That would be time enough.

"Why, my good fellow," I said reassuringly, "if the Germans ever reach
here Paris is doomed--and the war will be over!"

"Perhaps--"

"Besides, I can't go. I've got a hospital on my hands, though the
wounded are lacking. Haven't you seen our Red Cross flag? And if that
isn't sufficient, I can prove that I'm an American born. That ought to
be protection enough for anyone!"

I must admit that the incredulous smile that rose to his lips rather
angered me, and I sought still another excuse.

"Furthermore, one of my little maids is too ill to move, and I don't see
us walking off with folded arms, and that's what would happen if I
followed your advice, for the only horse the Army has left me is over
twenty and so lame that he can't walk two steps. If he could I'd have
had to present him for the second inspection at Chateau Thierry on
Wednesday."

The poor fellow shook his head at my apparent foolhardiness, but was too
polite to argue further. He said that his party would be off in an hour
and asked me if I possessed a road-map that he might consult. I gladly
showed him the one we had bought with H. the day of our hasty trip from
Paris, since then pinned to the wall of the refectory. I noticed that
he studied it very carefully, noting all the little sidetracks where he
thought his drays could pass, and thus avoid following in line behind
the thousands of other vehicles that encumbered the main roads.

Again he thanked me for all I had done, caressed my beautiful
greyhounds, and left me his card so that we might meet when all was
over. Afterwards when I went into the court, I heard someone in the
stable with George, and looking in, I saw my friend of a few moments
before examining my horse's hoof and telling my boy what would make the
sore heal quickly. He was bound to do his best for me!

By five o'clock the stables and grounds were empty, and our friends
gone. Hanzinell had joined the column which had slackened a bit during
the heat of the day, but had redoubled in volume since the sun had gone
behind the hills.

We had a moment's breathing space, during which we gave our entire
attention to Yvonne, who was writhing with agony on her bed next my
room. For three days now Madame Guix had administered mild doses of
morphine, but that treatment could not continue very long. Water bags,
friction and massage had proved fruitless against sciatica, so we
resolved to try a warm bath, with the result that our patient was almost
immediately eased but too weak to support the heat. She fainted in the
tub and had to be carried back to bed. We were still working over her
when Nini appeared and said I was wanted below. When Yvonne's eyelashes
began to flutter, I left Madame Guix and regained the kitchen, now
become the head-quarters.

More refugees! Would I let them come in? They were traveling without a
map or guide and dared not venture along the roads at night.

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