My Home in the Field of Honor Part 17

M.--time for breakfast. We ought not to attack the opposite hill on empty stomachs.

Accordingly we crossed the Pet.i.t 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 appet.i.tes 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 gra.s.s 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 c.u.mbersome. 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 gra.s.s 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.

Our noonday repast was composed of cold bam and fried potatoes. I think I never ate better, though I must confess that the latter were stolen from a neighboring field. By two o'clock a dozen weary inhabitants of Villiers were stretched out on their rugs and peacefully dreaming! We had decided to rest before determining what to do for the night.

I was awakened by a stiff feeling in my neck, and opened my eyes to find that the sun was rapidly disappearing in the west. I had slept soundly four hours and was much refreshed, though the b.u.mps in the ground had bruised me, and I could hardly move my head.

Yvonne had stood the journey so far very well though unable as yet to walk, but as the cool of the evening came on I began to worry lest a night out of doors set her screaming with pain. So as I laced my boots, I decided to go back to Rebais and make another desperate attempt to lodge her at least.

"Did Madame see Maitre Baudoin this morning," asked Leon, to whom I imparted my plans.

I gasped! What a fool I was! My mind was so upset that I had forgotten that my own notary was a prominent personality in Rebais.

A quarter of an hour later I turned into the public square and beheld Maitre Baudoin and his wife standing on the doorstep watching the exodus of numerous refugees.

"Madame Huard!" they exclaimed. "You? What on earth has happened?"

I explained in a few words.

"Why, come right in. We were just going to sit down to dinner."

I said I was not alone, and must first look after the others. Without waiting a second, Maitre Baudoin crossed over to the town hall and soon returned with a key in his hand.

"Here, here's the key to a bakery--there are rooms above. Your people can lodge there and you come in with us. All this will be over in a day or so; the news is good to-day. The Germans will never reach the Marne!"

I went and fetched our delighted caravan, and after safely depositing them in their new residence, I was crossing the main street to join my friends, when a big military auto whisked into the middle of the square and halted. Ten seconds later it was followed by a dozen others, and by the time I had reached the Baudoins' the place was literally lined with motors, containing officers and orderlies. We were just sitting down when some one pounded on the door and a deep authoritative voice called out, "You're to lodge a general and two officers!" And we could hear the man hastily chalking the names on the door.

Madame Baudoin looked from me to her husband, her eyes wide open with astonishment. The meal was forgotten and we hurried out into the twilight to seek news. The _Etat Major_ of a cavalry division was to bivouac at Rebais, would be leaving at midnight.

My friends understood, and they who had not as yet seen a soldier since the war began, realized for the first time that they were now in the midst of the retreating army. I begged them to make ready for flight and they hurried homewards while I returned to the bakery to hold council.

As I reached the door, someone touched me on the shoulder and an officer, pointing to the Red Cross armlet I was wearing, said:

"Go to the hospital at once. We need your services. Wounded."

"Very well, sir," I replied, and stepped inside.

"Madame Guix! Madame Guix!" I called in the stairway from the shop.

The others came clattering down all excitement, saying that Madame Guix had been recognized by her uniform and sent flying to the hospital.

Just then a shadow barred the entrance door and turning I saw an army chauffeur standing there.

"A piece of bread for G.o.d's sake," he begged.

"What?"

"Yes, I'm nearly dead of hunger. We've had no time to cook our food, and bread has been lacking for two days."

I looked about me--the bread boxes were empty. I had no right to do so, but I opened all the cupboards. The least I could do was pay, if the bakers appeared. I found a stale loaf and chopped it in four with the big knife near the counter. The way that poor fellow bit into it brought tears to my eyes.

"Wait a minute," I said as he turned away, and I rushed out to the court where my cart was standing. In a moment I was back with a slice of ham and some sweet chocolate and Julie came up with a gla.s.s of water.

I was about to ask questions when another form appeared, followed by still another.

"Bread--oh, for heaven's sake, bread!" they implored. Apparently there was no reason why I should not go on with my new trade until all the hungry chauffeurs in the army were satisfied. But remembering the wounded, I turned over my job to Julie, with orders to deal out the bread as long as it lasted and to go lightly with the chocolate, as my provision was not endless.

What a different aspect the main square presented to that of an hour before! Motors were lined up four deep on all sides, and I was obliged to elbow my way through the crowds of gapers, refugees, and officers that thronged the street.

"Have you come for the wounded?" questioned a white-capped sister as I closed the convent door and strode up the steps.

"Yes, sister."

"Heaven be praised! Come this way, quickly. Your nurse is here, but cannot suffice alone. We're of no use--there are only five of us to look after the almshouse, and a hundred refugees. We know nothing of surgery or bandaging."

All this was said sweetly and quietly as we hurried down a long corridor. In the middle of a big, well-lighted room stood Madame Guix bandaging the arm of a fine looking fellow, who shut his eyes and grated his teeth as she worked. On a half-dozen chairs sat as many men, some holding their heads in their hands, some doubled in two, others clenching their fists in agony. Not a murmur escaped them. The floor in several places was stained with great red patches.

"Quick, Madame Huard. We must stop the hemorrhages at all costs. The wounds are not bad, since the men have come on foot, but one never can tell with this heat."

A sister tied a white ap.r.o.n around me and in a second I had washed my hands and begun. The first shirt I split, my heart leapt to my lips. I was neither a novice nor a coward, but the sight of human blood flowing so generously and given so ungrudgingly, gave me a queer feeling in my throat. A second later that had all pa.s.sed over and as I worked I questioned the young fellows as to home and family and finally at what place they had been wounded. Some did not know, others named unfamiliar corners, but La Tretoire startled me. Our morning halt! Then the invaders had crossed the Marne? For these were not wounds from exploding sh.e.l.l but Mauser bullets and pistol shots!

Meanwhile the sisters brought iron beds and soft mattresses into the next room, and each boy in turn was put to rest. Fortunately there was nothing very serious, for we had no doctor and knew not where to find one. When we reached our last patient he was so limp that we feared he would faint. Imagine, if you can, what it is to cut away a stout pair of trooper's boots, and undress an almost helpless man whose clothes are fairly glued to the skin with blood, dirt and perspiration.

"Hold the ammonia closer to his nose," said Madame Guix, tugging at a wire that served as boot lace.