My Home In The Field of Honor by Frances Wilson Huard

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Hot coffee accompanied by buttered toast had been prepared by the girls
during my absence, and we needed no coaxing to persuade us to do the
meal justice. Already accustomed to this gypsy life, George's dry humor
began to show itself, and now and again the silence would be broken by
peals of laughter, caused by some quaint joke.

We lingered lovingly over the repast, and I was trying to decide whether
or not we would push on at once or wait and rest until afternoon when
suddenly my question was answered for me.

While we had been clearing up and loading the carts a long train of
freight cars had noiselessly glided down the rails opposite our quarry,
and had halted without pulling into the station. There was nothing
abnormal in this, and from where we sat a trifle below the level of the
track, we could see but little of what was going on on the opposite
platform. Standing upright in my charette, carefully folding a blanket
so as to take up the least possible space, my eye was attracted by
several red specks scurrying up a steep incline. A moment afterwards my
gaze drifted downward and I realized that from the innocent looking
freight cars hundreds of armed soldiers were disembarking and spreading
themselves out, _en tirailleurs_, preparing an attack in ambush. I had
seen this same pretty feat successfully accomplished at the _grand
manauvres_, the year before, but it was another thing entirely when one
grasped that these men were in dead earnest.

Just then a buggy, containing a disheveled woman and collarless man,
galloped over the crossing and sped westward. The occupants, whom I
hailed, did not deign a reply, but beckoning with their arms, enjoined
me to follow them.

"It's time to break camp," I said, "if we intend to reach the next town
before it gets too hot."

So off we started, preceded by a heavy delivery wagon, a _Familistere_
from the north, which crossed the rails just as we were pulling onto the
road. It was a big covered affair, filled to overflowing with bedding
and household utensils--and even the top was loaded with huge boxes and
baskets of provisions. Behind it walked, or rather trotted, three stout
women and a man, the former half-crazed with heat and anxiety, mopping
their brows and their tears as the _cortege_ advanced.

An hour and a half of steady climbing quite exhausted them, and when we
reached the level, the three graces collapsed by the roadside, still
weeping copiously. I observed this as I approached, and presently saw
their companion mounted on the high hind wheel of their wagon, gazing
intently towards the east through a pair of field glasses.

"What can you see?" I asked as the _charette_ passed by them.

"Come and have a look. It's worth while. My wife and family are too
frightened."

I halted, and climbing up by the spokes reached the top, and steadying
myself with my left hand, took the proffered glass with my right.

From one extremity to the other of the wide plains, from which we were
separated by the valley of the Grand Morin, those same long columns of
dense black smoke rose lazily in the brilliant sunlight. Into some
determined spot the enemy was pouring a perfect rain of shot and shell,
and the dust rising after each explosion formed a curtain that blotted
out the rest of the landscape. Below, the _Senegalais_ had disappeared
in ambush, but now and again the distant clattering of the
_mitrailleuse_ told us they were at their deadly work. And to think,
all this was happening on ground we had traveled over only a few hours
since! And I had been fool enough to go back to Rebais--alone to
recover my dog!

I shuddered as I got down. What was the use of trying to hurry? We
couldn't go any faster than the horses, and if we overworked them now we
would have to rest longer later on. So, urging our poor old nags, we
trudged along the sun-baked roads between the high grown wheat fields of
the Brie country.

Still another couple of hours and we had reached Choisy-en-Brie, found a
stable for our animals, and we ourselves stretched out on our blankets
beneath the friendly shadow of the big stone church.

I had finished luncheon and was just dozing off when a motor horn roused
me from my lethargy. A second later I recognized Maitre Baudoin and his
wife, the latter holding their four-year-old daughter on her knees, her
grandmother sitting alone in the back seat which was piled high with
important documents, and their maid strapped to the steps of the car.

We set up a shout which stopped them. "We stayed until a shell burst on
the house next door, then we thought it was time to go,"' explained
Maitre Baudoin.

"What time did you leave Rebais?"

"Forty minutes ago. You'd better be moving, too."

"Sorry, but I can't. The horses must rest."

"Well, don't wait too long. Adieu."

"Adieu," and they were off.

I returned to my blanket and again was just closing my eyes when the
unexpected sound of Gregorian chant made me sit up. Nearer and nearer
it drew, louder and louder rose the priests' voices, and then a
much-befringed and flower-laden hearse, preceded by the clergy and
followed by the mourners (the men in evening dress and the women in
their Sunday clothes), rounded the corner, passed in front of us, and
halted before the main door of the church.

I couldn't help smiling. The incongruity of this pompous _enterrement
de premiere classe, en musique_, when the city was imminently menaced by
a German bombardment, bordered on the pathetic and the ridiculous.
However, the family of the defunct did not think so, and their deceased
parent was chanted to eternity with all the rites and ceremonies that
his will had provided for.

Personally I was delighted at the idea of going to sleep to the sound of
the organ, which pierced the thick granite walls and almost drowned the
rumble of the cannon, to which we had now become so accustomed that we
had ceased to be alarmed.

"_Des soldats!_" cried someone.

In a second I was on my feet.

"Where?"

"Two-on bicycles, going into the hotel opposite."

I reached there as soon as they did. Their story was brief.

"We're the forerunners of a cavalry depot, being transferred to Rozoy
from Montmirail. It's getting too hot down there! How far is it to
Rozoy?"

I pulled out my map.

"Seventeen kilometres."

"Oh, Lord!"

And the poor fellows wiped the great beads of perspiration from their
dusty necks and faces.

"Bring up a bottle of wine. I'll stand for the drinks," called a man
from a corner of the cafe.

"What regiment do you belong to?"

"_L'Escadron du train._"

My heart leapt with expectancy.

"Do you know a man named H.?"

"No."

My disappointment was even greater than my joy.

"How many horses are you taking to Rozoy?"

"Two hundred and some."

"At what time will they pass here?"

"They're due in half an hour, if they don't get cornered by the Boches
on the way. We had a close call ourselves." And swallowing their
glasses of white wine and water, they were on their bicycles and gone,
before we could get any further details.

I had now had enough experience to know that it was high time to take to
the road if we didn't wish to be captured. Yet it seemed unfair to go
and leave some two-score innocent people praying for the soul of their
dear departed to a long drawn-out musical accompaniment. So while the
boys were harnessing I entered the sanctuary and approaching the chancel
by a side aisle, beckoned an altar boy and whispered in his ear words to
the effect that the curate would better hurry his mass and thereby give
his flock time to escape the invaders.

I said this calmly, and hoped he would follow my example in delivering
my message, but imagine if you can the effect produced by this
frightened individual, who, lifting his hands in the air, cried out in
terror, "_Vite, vite, Monsieur le Cure'! Voila' les Prussiens!_"

I didn't wait to see what happened, but went out and joined my group,
which was making ready to start. How far advanced was mass when I
entered the church I did not observe, but what I do know is that it
finished abruptly after my warning, and the poor hearse horse never
before galloped towards the cemetery of Choisy at such a pace nor in
such an undignified manner. As to the mourners, they fairly flew beside
it, greatly diminished in number, the others scattering like chaff
before the wind.

The half-hour's interval allowed by the cyclists for the horses to
arrive was far overlapped by the time we once again took the road, but
the sound of the cannonade had gradually grown closer.

Wearied by this constant changing of camp, I made up my mind to go far
enough in this next move to be able to really rest for a day or so.
Consulting my map, I discovered Jouyle-Chatel to be at what I judged a
safe distance--nearly thirty kilometres and considerably south of Paris.
The afternoon was still young, so we would have time to make the town
before dark. At any rate, I told George to accompany me and explained
that he and I would ride ahead full speed, and arrange for beds and a
dinner by the time the others should arrive. They were instructed not
to let the dark halt them, but to come on. Secretly I hoped that this
would be our last stretch and that we would be able to remain at Jouy
until it was wise to start homeward.

It was an uneventful trip from Choisy to Jouy. The roads were
excellent, though very undulating and the only incident that marked our
journey was an intoxicated individual who jumped across our path and,
putting his hand on my handle bar, demanded tearfully what I had done
with his wife and children.

I declared myself innocent in the matter, which angered him
considerably.

"Now I know you're a spy! Get down--" George did not give him time to
finish the phrase, but with a well-measured blow, sent him sprawling in
the brambled ditch and we beat a hasty retreat without looking back.

It was night by the time we reached Jouy, and at the entrance of the
city I enquired for the best hotel.

"_Le Grand Turc_--but the proprietress is closing up, making ready to
leave."

"What! Here? You don't mean to say the scare has reached this place,
too?"

"Well, we've had so many refugees these days that the women got
frightened and want to go."

George and I parted company, he to see what he could find since the best
hotel was denied us, and I, undaunted, started off to try to persuade
the proprietress to let us in.

After much rattling at the door handles and pounding on the shutters, an
acrid female voice enjoined me to be gone.

"I'm closing up and leaving."

"Leaving? What for?"

"To escape the Germans!"

"How foolish! They'll never reach here. I've just come from the Marne
and expected to find board and lodgings for my staff until the war is
over."

That encouraged her and cracking the door, she put her head out.

"I belong to the Red Cross. Here's my badge and my _carte didentite_.
Don't you think you could find room for me?"

"Well, we're packing up, but we'll have to wait for our horses, which
are at a farm seven miles from here. The farmer said he'd come if there
was any danger."

"Well, you see there isn't or he'd be here by now."

My hostess seemed convinced and opening the door a little wider, let me
pass.

"How many of you are there?"

"Fourteen."

"Good heavens! Fourteen rooms? Never!"

"I don't ask that, my good woman. If you can find a bed for me and
happen to have a bay loft or covered shed, the others will be glad
enough to sleep there. As to the meals, we have our own provisions and
will cook outside. It's a little late to-night, however, so if you
could manage to give them a cup of hot soup and an omelet when they
arrive, I'd make it worth your while."

She consented to the compromise, and sent one of her daughters to
prepare my room. I then dispatched George, whose bicycle bell I heard
ringing in the street, to the city gate to await and conduct the
remainder of our party. In the hour that elapsed before their arrival I
gained in the hostess's good graces by lancing a festered finger and
bandaging her small daughter's skinned knee.

When the others arrived, George, who had not been idle during his wait,
told me that Jouy was almost empty of inhabitants, and that most of the
people from Mery-sur-Marne, a village near Villiers, were lodging for
the night on bales of hay in the school house and town hall.

Our meal over, none of us needed persuading to retire and the idea of a
bed lured me early to my room.

Naturally a light sleeper, I was constantly awakened by the coming and
going and the conversation of our proprietress, who kept on packing
right through the night. Another time I was roused by a bell ringing up
and down the street, which passed beneath my window, and a deep
masculine voice that enjoined all the people from Mery to hurry to the
town hall. The wagons were leaving in a quarter of an hour.

"Poor fools," thought I, and rolled over in my bed.

As it grew light, I could gee the interminable stream of refugees
passing up the road, and when I had dressed and hastened to the
courtyard I found the others had already kindled a fire and tea was
awaiting me.

"At what time should we start, Madame?"

"Start where?"

"I haven't the slightest intention of going any farther. Haven't you
all had enough of this kind of traveling?"

The reply was affirmative and unanimous!

"The noise of the cannon is hardly audible this morning, which is a very
encouraging sign, I'm sure, so we'll try to make ourselves comfortable
until it's safe to go home."

And leaving Julie in charge, I set off by myself, glad of a moment's
solitude.

In my wanderings I found the church door open, and entering, rejoiced in
the peace that reigned within. It calmed my anxiety and as I withdrew
my thoughts were clearer, and the burden of my responsibility seemed
lightened.

On my way to the hotel I was accosted by a woman who, with a baby in her
arms, was leading a cow behind her.

"Don't you want some milk?"

"I hardly think so."

"Please take it. You see, I've only saved my baby and my cow, and I
have to milk the latter twice a day. I can't carry all she gives, so I
keep what's necessary and throw the rest away. It seems like such a
waste."

I agreed with her, and directed her towards the hotel court. She would
take no remuneration and thanking me, hastened on her way.

As I watched her go someone touched me on the arm and asked me if I
would go to the town hall; there were two refugees who needed
assistance. There I found a very old couple, brother and sister, the
eldest aged ninety-two, the other two years younger. They were from
Mery, had lodged in a private house in Jouy, and were so decrepit that
they had not arisen in time to catch the wagons which bore away their
fellow townsmen the night before. That had so upset the old man that he
had broken down and lay moaning on the straw, while the mild little
woman explained that the being left behind was not what troubled her,
but it was her purse and belongings that had been carried off in the
carts.

I comforted them as best I could, promising to send them hot milk and
biscuits, and wondering what else I could do for them. Any way they
should not starve, as long as we remained in Jouy.

Luncheon was well under way when I returned to the hotel. In a pot,
standing on an iron tripod in the middle of the paved court, a rabbit
was gently stewing. In another, a fricassee of chicken smelled
temptingly good. The women and girls were peeling potatoes and onions,
which were to cook in the sauce and a peal of laughter went up from the
merry group when a few moments later George and Emile appeared, covered
with flour and dough from head to foot, and each bearing a bottle of
white wine under his arm.

"What on earth have you boys been up to?"

"Behold in us the city bakers!" said George with a wave of the hand and
he and his companion struck an attitude which again drew forth much
hilarity from the onlookers.

"It's no joke--there wasn't a baker left in the place, so we found an
old fellow who said he'd show us how, and the dough is now setting. By
three o'clock we'll have fresh bread, you see if we don't!"

From the window the proprietress and her daughters watched our impromptu
kitchen with interest. We formed such an amusing group that, handing my
kodak to Leon, I told him to catch us as I bent over to taste the sauce.

Snap went the shutter!

At that same instant a shriek rose from the interior of the hotel.
Looking up I saw that the proprietress and her two daughters had
disappeared.

"_Au secours! Au secours!_"

The boys and I made a rush for the house. As we entered the _grande
sale_, we saw a man bearing a human form in his arms staggering through
the door. Through the blood and dust that smeared the unfortunate boy's
clothing, I recognized the uniform of a chasseur. Not even an emergency
bandage stopped the stream that was flowing from his cheek.

"Quick--a mattress!" I shouted.

The proprietress stood as though nailed to the doorway leading to the
kitchen.

"Is he wounded?"

"No matter--a mattress!"

"But he might soil it--"

"Then I'll pay for it--but for the love of heaven, be quick!"

Just then the boy's head lurched forward and the blood poured from his
mouth. Leon jumped to help the old man who was holding him, and I had
just time to catch the proprietress as she swooned on the floor.

"Put the boy on the billiard table and stuff this blanket under his
head," I said, grabbing the article mentioned from the top of a bundle
near by. "Come in here!" I called to the two daughters who were
blubbering in the next room, terrified at what they had seen. "Come in
here--lay her flat, loosen her clothes, and dash some cold water over
her. She's not dead and I've no time to bother with her."

While others laid the wounded man out on the table, I rushed for my
emergency case which I had fortunately thought to bring along.

With a sharp pair of scissors, I cut away the bloody garments and with a
little warm water washed my patient so I could see what was the matter.
He was but half conscious, and his eyes rolled wildly and his hand
grasped mine and wrung it in agony.

I discovered a tiny cheek wound and was congratulating myself that
perhaps the bullet had lodged in the flesh, when on turning his head
gently to one side, I was almost nauseated by the terrible wound that
greeted my eyes.

Either a Mauser pistol or an explosive bullet fired at but short
distance had entered the cheek and gouged its way through the lad's
head, carrying away part of the ear and well--let us not go any further.

"Is there a doctor in the place still?" I called to the cook who stood
looking in at the door. "Run and see if you can get him--for I'm
incompetent here. Quick! It's life or death!"

And while she was gone I stuffed cotton and iodine into the tremendous
cavity, hoping to stop the hemorrhage. As I bandaged, I questioned the
man who had brought him.

"Where did you pick him up?"

"Amillis--a mile and a half from here. The Uhlans fired into me, too,
when they saw me help him. Look at the sole of my shoe! They're
following close on behind."

I stepped to the window. "George and Leon! Quick! Drop everything.
Hitch and get out of here like lightning! I'll follow in this man's
cart. Hitch and I'll tell you where to go."

Fricasseed chicken and rabbit stew were forgotten and I could hear my
people running wildly about the court, obeying orders.

The doctor appeared. I explained. "Shall I unbandage?"

"Useless."

"Then don't say so out loud, as he's not yet unconscious."

The poor fellow gripped my hand as proof. The physician blushed
scarlet.

"I'll give him an injection of ether and then you take him in your cart
to the nearest hospital--it's Provins--twenty miles from here."

He jabbed in the needle, and then handing it with a phial to me:
"Here--take this. I'm clearing out. Got a wife and baby to save. Keep
his heart going--there's a ghost of a chance. Adieu!"

I stood petrified.

"Take him away, I'm closing up! Take him away--" screamed the hostess,
who had recovered from her swoon.

I looked at the old man who had brought the boy.

"Where are you going with your cart?"

"To Coulommiers--to save my sister-in-law and her children."

"Good God, man! Can't you see that if this boy was wounded at Amillis
your road to Coulommiers is cut off!"

"It may not be."

"There's no time to argue. My wagons are full to overflowing. Are you
going to let this boy stay and be finished by the Germans, or are you
going to let me put him in your cart and drive to a hospital?"

"But Provins must be occupied by this time. It's east of here."

"I never had any intention of going there. I'm heading for Melun."

"Melun?"

"Yes."

"Good heavens! That's seventy kilometers! My poor sister-in-law! My
horse!" wailed the old fellow.

"Now then--one, two, three--" said I, gently patting my Browning which I
had drawn from my outside pocket. "Will you do it gracefully? That's
right. Now stop your crying. I'll release you as soon as I can find
someone else to take me on. The important thing is to get out of here
and quick! It may be too late now."

The boys had fetched a mattress, had found pillows and a sheet,
somewhere, and gently we laid the dying man on the old farm cart.

"You boys take your bikes and go ahead. Tell the refugees you meet to
pull to the right and not encumber the whole road. We're rushing a
wounded man to the hospital. When I think you've got the way clear I'll
drive on full speed. Tell our carts to head for Melun and keep on going
till they get there. I can't bother with them. We'll meet at the first
bridge over the Seine."

They departed, and climbing in beside my patient, who writhed in agony,
now lurching from one side, now rolling to the other, I tried to make
him as comfortable as possible. All the other carts had departed ere we
got away, and my tearful driver kept on grumbling and lamenting.

Two hundred yards from the hotel, where the road makes a sharp turn, we
halted abruptly, for we had come upon a group composed of my boy George
and three French chasseurs. Two were on horseback, their naked swords
glittering in the sunlight; the third on a bicycle--and all three, as
well as George, were shrieking excitedly at a phlegmatic Tommy Atkins
who, seated on a milestone, was calmly smoking his pipe. Behind him,
his horse was peacefully nibbling grass. At the sight of my armlet and
the agitated white sheet in the wagon, the chasseurs approached in
haste.

"What have you got there? Our comrade, Ballandreau?"

"Yes." (I had seen the boy's name in his military book.)

"Is he dead?"

"No."

"Badly wounded?"

"Yes."

"_Parlez-vous anglais?_" they fairly bawled, all three at once.

"Yes."

"Then, for God's sake, tell that blockhead sitting on the stone and
whose horse has gone lame, to seize the bicycle of that peasant standing
there, and follow us."

I translated politely.

"Why?" queried the Englishman, drawing on his pipe.

"Why?" I demanded of the chasseurs.

"Why? Do you see that?" said one on a bicycle, wheeling around and
pointing down the road behind us. "Do you see that? That's the Uhlans.
The ones that got Ballandreau a half-hour ago, the ones that got my
horse and the ones that will get us all if we stop here much longer."

"The Uhlans!" I cried to Tommy, showing him the advancing forms of a
half-dozen cavalrymen, whose black leather helmets shone in the sun a
mile up the road.

"There are seven of them--on patrol--seven hundred following! Come, old
fellow, it's now or never!"

"And I--where shall I go?" I said, jumping into the cart, George
following.

"To the devil if you like, but quick!"

The warning came none too soon. We had been seen, and sharp, whizzing
noises in the grass, and over our beads told us that our German pursuers
had no intention of letting us get away.

"Down on your knees, man!" I yelled, pulling the old fellow with me as
we ducked to the level of the dashboard. And unfastening a breastpin, I
jabbed it mercilessly into the flanks of our nag, who bounded forward,
nearly, throwing us out.

Whizz! Whizz! Whizz!

It was as if a cloud of locusts were bumming about us.

Then when I lifted my eyes, on top of the steep incline we were
ascending, I could see several uniformed horsemen and back of them a
huge column of smoke.

"Heavens!" I gasped, "we're caught this time--but it's too late now to
turn about. We're prisoners for sure!"

Two cavalrymen then appeared and calmly started down the road in our
direction. A second later I recognized the British uniform and breathed
again.

"Go back!" I yelled. "Go back! The Germans are on our heels!"

Astonished at bearing their native tongue, the men approached.

"Thank heaven, here's someone to direct us," they said as they came
alongside and saluted.

I replied with a nod.

"We're lost," they said, "cut off from our brigade."

"That's nothing. How many of you are there? Enough to fight? The
Germans are coming on hard and fast."

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