My Home In The Field of Honor by Frances Wilson Huard

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While all this had been going on, Madame Guix had taken Julie into her
confidence and asked her if she would follow us if we were obliged to
leave. Julie is a native of Villiers, and her husband and children live
in a little house near by. She had consulted her lord and they were
willing to lend their big dray horse if they could all join our party.
Of course we agreed and while it was light, we decided to put some bags
of oats into the bottom of our hay cart, to cover these with hay, and
then all the servants could pile on, the boys taking turns at walking
since Yvonne must have room to be stretched out.

How I hated all this business! Madame Guix then counted the number of
persons composing our party, and sent Nini to fetch as many blankets and
pillows. These, with a box containing salt, sugar, chocolate, and other
dry provisions, a valise packed with a few bandages and a little
medicine, were put onto a little light farm-cart to which we might
harness Cesar in case of great emergency.

The two vehicles when loaded were run into an empty carriage house,
whose door I locked, rather ashamed of my precautions.

Night had fallen and the incoming stream of refugees demanded our every
attention. Madame Guix was occupied with two women whose physical
condition was such that it was impossible to refuse them beds, come what
might--and as I crossed the vestibule in search of some instruments, the
shadow of a woman and two little girls came up the steps. "Could I give
them lodgings?" begged the poor soul. I looked at her--she was so
frightened that it was most pathetic, and the two curly-beaded children
clung to her skirts and shivered.

"I've never been alone before," she explained, and her teeth fairly
chattered with terror. "I can pay, and pay well--I've thirty thousand
francs in gold on me."

"Then, for Heaven's sake, don't let anyone know it!" I said, very
abruptly. "I don't want money, but there are others who may. Be
careful--a fortune like that may lead to your destruction. Hide it!"

She stared at me in amazement. Evidently the idea that dishonesty
existed never occurred to her. She thanked me for the advice and hoped
she had not offended me, and begged me to take pity on her.

"Did anyone see you come in here?"

She thought not.

"For if they did I fear you will have to share the common lot. I have
no reason to give you preference. The others might protest."

I stuck my head out of the doorway. When I turned around, those three
helpless creatures stood clinging to one another in the big empty
vestibule, making a most pitiable group.

"Go up two flights of stairs--turn to your left and follow the corridor
to the end. The last door on your left opens into a room with a huge
double bed. It was too big for our hospital. That's the only reason we
didn't bring it down. It's at your disposal. Don't thank me.
Good-night."

When I got a moment I went to Yvonne's room. "Did she think she could
get up a little: long enough to take some dinner? Perhaps she might put
on a few clothes and make an effort to walk around her room." Ten days
in bed had made her very weak. She must try to gain a little strength.
She promised and I departed. The idea of carrying her out bodily was
anything but encouraging!

At six-thirty the public distribution of soup recommenced. Who my
guests were I have no idea. There were more than a hundred of them.
That was clear enough from the dishes that were left. Just as the last
round had been served, George came in to say that the village was
beginning to get uneasy--people from Neuilly St. Front and
Lucy-le-Bocage and Essommes had already passed down the road, and the
peasants looked to the chateau for a decision!

I went out to the gate. Yes, true enough, our neighbors from Lucy (five
miles distant) had joined the procession. Then there was a break, and a
lull, such as had not occurred for two days, and in the silence I again
recognized the same clattering sound that had caught my ear on the hill
top the afternoon before. This time it was much more distinct, but was
soon drowned out by the rumbling of heavy wheels on the road.

Surely this time it was artillery!

I wrapped my shawl closer about me and sat down on the low stone wall
that borders the moat, while little groups of peasants, unable to sleep,
clustered together on the roadside.

Nearer and nearer drew the clanking noise and presently a whole regiment
of perambulators, four abreast, swung around the corner into the
moonlight.

Domptin!

Domptin, our neighboring village, one mile up the road, had caught the
fever and was moving out wholesale, transporting its ill and decrepit,
its children and chattels, in heaven knows how many baby carriages!

I had never seen so many in all my life. The effect was altogether
comic, and Madame Guix and I could not resist laughing--much to the
dismay of these poor souls who saw little amusement at being obliged to
leave home scantily clad in night clothes.

They passed on, without further comment, and the last man had hardly
turned the corner when a scream coming from up the road drew us to our
feet, and sent us running in that direction. Almost instantly, the
figure of an old white-capped peasant woman appeared in the distance.
She was wringing her hands and crying aloud. When we were within ear
shot, I caught the word, "Uhlans!"

"Uhlans! Where?"

"_Dans le bois de la Mazure!_" (A half-mile from Villiers.)

"How do you know?"

"Saw their helmets glittering in the moonlight!"

"What rot! They're Frenchmen--dragoons. You don't know your own
countrymen when you see them! Did you approach them?"

"No."

"Then what in the name of common sense sent you flying down here to
scare us like that? You've got no business spreading panic broadcast.
If you don't turn around and scamper home, the way you came, I'll have
you arrested. _Allez!_"

My nerves had stood the strain as long as possible. This false alarm
had roused my anger and in a jiffy I could see how thousands of people
had been deceived, and were now erring homeless along the roads of
France!

"You can do what you like," I said, turning to the others, "but I've had
enough of this for one day--I'm going to bed. Good-night, gentlemen."

"The _chatelaine_ is going to bed, the _chatelaine_ is going to bed!"
"Let all go to bed," and similar phrases were echoed among the groups
and presently we all separated, after many cordial _a demain_.

The clock in the village church was striking midnight when I finally
retired, after calling my greyhounds and Betsy into my room, and
assuring myself that they all had on their collars, and that their
leashes were hanging on my bed post.

Nini, the little traitor, had evidently told Yvonne of my preparations
for departure, and the two girls, whose beds were in the next room to
mine, had been unable to close their eyes, for as I blew out my lamp, I
could hear their childish voices repeating the rosary:

"Hail Mary full of Grace--the Lord is with Thee..."

* * * * *

I may have slept an hour. Then I can dimly remember hearing a wild yelp
from my dogs, and when I found myself in the middle of my room rubbing
my eyes, Yvonne was calling, "Madame! Madame!" in terrified tones. My
pets were mad with excitement, and the sound of the farm bell was
ringing in my ears!

"Silence!" I yelled.

Everything but the bell ceased.

Heedless of my attire, I rushed to a back window and repeated my
command.

The bell stopped.

"Who are you that you dare wake us like that!" I scolded.

A boy between eighteen and nineteen let go the rope and stepped beneath
the window. I could see his blond hair in the moonlight.

"Are you Madame Huard?"

"Yes."

"I've come with a message from your husband."

I grew cold as ice. Good God, what had happened?

V

In a bound I was down stairs and had opened the front door.

"Is H. wounded?" I gasped.

"No, Madame."

I breathed again.

"Where was he when you saw him?"

"On the road between Villers-Cotterets and La Ferte Milon."

"What's your message?"

The boy put his hand to his breast pocket and drew forth a slip of
paper. The full moon shining on the white facade of the chateau threw
such a brilliant reflection that I recognized a sheet from a sketch
book, and could distinguish the following words scribbled in pencil:

"Give bearer fifty francs, then in the name of the love you bear me,
evacuate now; go south, not Paris."

The last words were underscored three or four times.

"What time was it when H. gave you this?"

"Noon or thereabouts."

"How did you come? On foot?"

"No, bicycle."

"But it's after midnight!"

"I know, but I got lost and had three bad punctures."

Here were marching orders for fair, and if I intended obeying enough
time had already been lost. To stay in spite of everything was to be
responsible for all the young lives that looked to me, for protection.
Could I promise it? No. Then go it was!

At that same moment and as though to reinforce my decision, the strange
clattering noise I had observed growing nearer and nearer during the
last two days broke on the night air.

"Hark!" said the boy. "_La mitrailleuse!_"

"The machine guns!" I echoed.

"_Oui, Madame._"

That sufficed. "We'll be leaving in ten minutes. Go to the kitchen.
I'll send someone to look after you and we'll go together."

All this had transpired in less time than it takes to tell it. Awakened
by the bell, the refugees in the stables came pouring into the
courtyard. A second later, George, lantern in hand, came running
towards me.

"Tell Leon to harness Cesar--then go and wake Julie and say that we are
leaving in ten minutes. I expect her, and her family, with their horse,
to be ready. The courtyard in ten minutes. Mind!"

On the landing I met Madame Guix already fully dressed.

"_Nous partons,_" was all I said. She understood and followed me
towards Yvonne's room.

The two children, their teeth chattering, looked towards us in terror.

"Nini, put on the warmest clothes you possess and help Madame Guix to
dress Yvonne. Then go to the kitchen and wait there without moving."

My own toilet was brief, and five minutes later, lamp in hand, I was
pounding on all the doors of the long corridors, fearful lest some one
be forgotten and locked in the house. When I reached the second floor I
bethought me of the woman and her two children, and as I advanced I
called, "Don't be frightened. This is merely a warning!"

The poor soul must have been dreaming, for when I touched her door she
screamed, and as I opened it and held the lamp over my head, I could see
the two little creatures clinging to their mother, who on her knees
begged, "Take me, but spare my babies!"

I had some difficulty in reassuring her, but finally succeeded, and left
her to go below to the hospital.

At the first alarm, the women who were sleeping there had fled in
terror, and when assured that all were gone, for safety's sake I went up
into the vestibule and standing at the foot of' the stairs, called, "All
out! All out! I'm closing up and leaving!"

No one answering, I judged that my summons had been obeyed, and so
hurried back to my own room to fetch jewels, kodak and pets. On my way
down I opened H.'s wardrobe and grabbed several overcoats, confident
that the boys would forget theirs and need them.

In the courtyard I found Julie and her family already perched on the
hay-cart, where Yvonne had been hoisted and lay moaning, well covered in
a blanket. Both horses were hitched and my servants waiting orders.
Beside ours, other big drays were being prepared for flight, yet there
was no confusion--no loud talking--no lamenting. I then told the boys
to hurry to the farm yard and open all the gates so that the poultry and
cows could have free access to the entire estate, which is closed in by
a wall. I was thus certain that though they might feel hungry they,
would not die for want of food or water during the short time I intended
to be gone.

This done, I went to the kitchen where I found Nini, who had obeyed
orders not to move but who had presence of mind enough to lay out bread
and jam and wine for the famished youth who had brought the message.

In the lamplight I caught sight of my road maps on the refectory wall,
and setting my jewel box on the table I began unpinning and carefully
folding them and put them in the pocket of my motor coat. Almost at the
same instant, the lamp flickered and Leon came in to say that all the
dogs were found save the beagle hound and three fox terrier puppies,
who, frightened by the bell and the commotion, had hidden in the hay
lofts. We went out, and I called and whistled in vain--none of them
appeared.

All this had taken more time than I expected. The wagons full of
refugees had disappeared, and we were alone.

"_En route!_" I called, climbing into the _charette_, a big lump rising
in my throat.

"_En route!_" called George.

Once again I counted our party to be sure all were there, and then
slowly the heavy-laden hay-cart pulled out of the courtyard onto the
high road.

The first ten steps that my horse took he limped so painfully that my
heart sank in my boots.

What nonsense, this departure! The poor beast would break down and we'd
have to shoot him by the wayside, and other similar cheerful thoughts
fled through my brain as we jogged up the narrow village street.

In front of the town hall I halted, first of all to rest my steed,
secondly to await George and Leon, who had remained behind to shut the
entrance doors and bolt the gate, and finally because I was astonished
to see all the windows illuminated.

I Jumped down and approaching one of the panes looked through and saw
the entire municipal council seated in a semi-circle, their faces grave
with anxiety. Presently the boys, accompanied by H.'s messenger, rode up
on their bicycles and handed me the keys. I entered the room where Mr.
Duguey, the schoolmaster and town clerk, greeted me.

"Gentlemen, I've come to give you the keys to my estate. I've received
a message from my husband begging me to leave at once."

"Then make haste, Madame, while there is still time. We are just about
to beat the call to arms and warn the population that those who hope to
escape must leave at once. Though we have no official orders to do this
we have taken it on ourselves, for we now know for certain that the
Uhlans have surrounded the village and are awaiting daylight to take
possession. They are probably bivouacking on the heights in your park."

Then the old peasant woman had not lied! Those were really Uhlans she
had seen in the _bois de la Mazure_. Ye gods, and here I was trying to
get away with a lame horse! Thank heaven, the Marne was not far! I
would cross it and then await developments.

The clock in the little church struck two and an owl hooted mournfully
in the belfry as silently our cortege plodded up the steep incline. When
we reached the summit I could not resist turning around and casting a
long affectionate glance on my lovely home-shining like a fairy palace
in its setting of wonderful trees. Who could tell? I might never see
it again!

George, too, must have been penetrated with the same sentiment, for he
rode up close to the cart and grasping the mud guard, turned on his
saddle and wistfully shaking his bead, gave vent to his feelings by the
following very inelegant but extremely expressive ejaculation:

"_Quels cochons! vous chasser d'une propriete parcille!_"

A long shiver of emotion crept down my spine, and though it was but the
second of September I instinctively drew the fur collar of my coat
closer about my throat.

In front of me I could bear the wheels of our heavy-laden hay-cart
creaking as the big farm horse plodded on. Its occupants were silent,
and thanks to the moon and the lantern which hung up high behind, I
could see Julie and Madame Guix nodding with sleep.

My own poor beast limped on and besides thinking of all that I had left
undone at the chateau and planning how and where we could go, I had the
constant vision of his silent suffering in front of me. At every little
incline I would get down and throwing the reins over the neck of Betsy,
my bull dog, who occupied the seat beside me, I would give Cesar his
head and take my place with the boys behind. He seemed to be grateful.

Let it be said, however, that as our journey advanced the hoof, at first
so tender from much poulticing, became firmer and firmer, and instead of
increasing, the lameness rather grew less.

We crossed our little market town of Charly amid dead silence. Not a
light in a single window, not a sound anywhere. We seemed to be the
only souls astir, and the foolhardiness of this midnight departure when
everyone else was tucked up snug in his bed, angered me. I was seized
with a mad desire to turn about and go home.

Just then George asked me which direction I intended taking, and
remembering H.'s imperative "Go south," we turned sharp and headed for
the first bridge across the Marne.

High in front of me rose the dark wooded hills of Pavant, descending
abruptly to that narrow strip of fertile plain which borders the river
on both sides, but now half-veiled in a heavy blue mist. Below me the
swift current sped onward like a silver arrow, and before so impressive
a spectacle I could not help thinking how meager is the art of the scene
painter and dramatist which tries to depict a real battlefield. For
battlefield I felt this was, and my overstrained nerves no longer
holding my imagination in check, I could already see human forms
writhing in agony, and hear the moaning of souls on the brink of
Eternity. As though to vivify this hallucination, the dying moon
suddenly plunged behind a cloud, lighting the landscape but by strange
lugubrious streaks, and in the distance behind us a long low rumble
warned me that my dream might soon be a terrible reality.

The Marne crossed, a weight was lifted from my shoulders, and settling
back against the pile of blankets in my rig, I let the horse follow his
own sweet will and we started to zig-zag up a steep incline. At the end
of five minutes' time I was so benumbed by the cold that sleep was
impossible, so I left my seat and joined the others who, all save
Yvonne, had been obliged to descend to relieve their horse. What a
climb that was--seven long kilometers from right to left, winding around
that hill, as about a mountain, ever and again finding ourselves on a
narrow ledge overlooking the valley. The fog had spread until literally
choked up between the bills and I could hardly persuade myself that it
was not the sea that rolled below me. Even the signal lamps on the
distant railway line rose out of the labyrinth like a lighthouse in
mid-ocean, making the illusion complete.

Dawn was breaking as we reached the summit and pausing for a moment's
breath, we could see people with bundles hurrying from cottages and farm
yards, while the fields seemed dotted with horses and carts that sprang
out of the semi-darkness like specters, following one another to the
highway. In less than no time the long caravan had re-formed and was
again under way.

We brought up the rear, preceded by five hundred snow-white oxen. There
was no way of' advancing faster than the _cortege_. It was stay in line
or lose your place, and as the sun rose over the plains, I was so
impressed by the magnificence of our procession that I forgot the real
cause of our flight and never for an instant realized that I now formed
an intimate part of that column which but a few hours since inspired me
with such genuine pity.

As we passed through a small agglomeration of houses that one might
hardly call a village, I recognized several familiar faces on the
doorsteps, and presently comprehended why Charly was so dark and silent
the night before. It was empty--evacuated--and the greater part of its
inhabitants were here on the roadside, preparing to continue their
route.

Where were we going? I think none of us had a very definite idea. We
were following in line on the only road that crossed this wonderfully
fertile country. The monotony of the landscape, the warmth of the sun,
added to the gentle swing of my cart calmed my nerves and I fell back
into a heavy sleep.

When I opened my eyes I could hear water running over a dam, and see
below me and but a very short distance away, a river flowing through a
valley. Someone said it was the Petit Morin; another announced that we
had come seventeen kilometers and a third proffered that it was 6:30 A.
M.--time for breakfast. We ought not to attack the opposite hill on
empty stomachs.

Accordingly we crossed the Petit Morin and broke ranks in front of two
little cottages that bordered the river at the entrance of an electric
power house. At the same time, a small covered gig halted beside our
big cart and from it descended the mother of the two little girls she
who had so much gold.

Did I mind if she followed in our wake?

Of course not.

She was still as timid and frightened as the night before, and it didn't
take much questioning to learn that she had never had a pair of reins in
her hands before in her life.

The boys took all the horses down to the river and carefully bathed
their knees and legs. In the meantime, coffee had been found and
ground, someone had scurried about and found a house where milk could be
had, and on an iron tripod that I had sense enough to bring along, water
was set to boiling.

It was very amusing that first picnic breakfast, and my! what appetites
we had. The summer lodgers in one of the cottages gazed upon us in
amazement--all save one little girl who, so it seems, had had a
presentiment that some ill would befall her and for two days had not
ceased weeping.

The meal over, each one went to my cart and taking possession of a
blanket and pillow, rolled up in it and went fast asleep in the
brilliant sunshine. How we blessed those warm, penetrating rays, for we
had suffered much from the damp cold all night.

Left alone, I overhauled my wagon and made the discovery that my jewel
box was missing. That did not alarm me much, for I was confident that I
had left it on the refectory table, and would find it--like my silver
chests--just where I had left them.

My road map showed us to be at La Tretoire, midway between Charly and
Rebais, but as there were no provisions to be had in so small a place, I
decided to push on to the township where we might be able to get
lodgings. This, however, must be done before noon, or we would be
obliged to sleep out of doors again, for it would be impossible to
travel through the heat of the day. Accordingly, at half past eight, I
roused the boys and we started up the hill, bag and baggage.

It was much the same kind of scene as at Pavant, only we were less
excited and far more exhausted than at the outset of our trip. Each one
stalked on, gritting his teeth and wiping the big beads of perspiration
from his brow. By ten we reached the top and calling George, who had
been walking beside the leader since we left home, I told him to take my
place in the _charette_ and I would mount my bicycle.

Leaving orders to follow the straight road to Rebais, I pushed on ahead,
promising to do my best, and an hour later found myself on the outskirts
of the little town--very weary and almost overcome by the heat. In the
hurry of my departure from Villiers I had wrapped a scarlet chiffon
scarf about my head, never thinking that a hat would be a very useful
article in the daytime. For sixty minutes, then, as I had pedaled along
that endless road, the sun had beaten down upon my head and shoulders,
and when I came upon a public pump, I dropped down in the grass beside
it, after wringing out my handkerchief in its refreshing water and
bathing my burning face and arms.

When I finally made my entrance into Rebais, I found that thousands of
other persons had probably had the same idea as I and it took but little
time to discover that all rooms, whether private or public, were
occupied. The place was overflowing with refugees. The line outside
the baker's shop warned me that I had a dozen hungry mouths dependent
upon me and yesterday's supply of bread was well nigh exhausted, let
alone being stale. I took my place among the others and stood for a
good hour waiting for the second ovenful to finish baking.

Certainly no greasy pig at a county fair was ever more difficult to
manage than that long nine-pound loaf of red hot bread. There was no
way of handling it--it burned everything it touched. No sooner did I
put it under one arm than I was obliged to change it to the other post
haste. Add to this the fact that I had not ridden a bicycle since a
child, and realize that whether walking or riding the bread was equally
hot and equally cumbersome. It was too long to fit into the handlebars,
besides how could I hold it there? Too soft to be tied with string that
I might buy. At one moment I thought seriously of picking up my skirt
and carrying the bread as peasant women do grass and fodder, but alas, a
1914 skirt was too narrow to permit this. At length when almost
disheartened and I had stood my loaf against the side of a house to
cool, I recognized a familiar voice back of me, and George appeared on
his wheel to announce that my party had camped in a young orchard two
miles outside of Rebais, neither man nor beast being capable of going
any farther. We clapped our loaf into an overcoat that was strapped to
the back of his machine, and swinging it between us, soon joined the
others.

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