The Great White Army Part 26

Of shelter there was none, save that of a few miserable huts upon the hillside and of a low farmhouse, which the general's staff now occupied. Luckily for us, we took possession of one of the former, and there I left Valerie with Monsieur d'Izambert and his daughter, while I myself rode on to the river to get what tidings I could. These, to be sure, were not of ill-omen, and the fact that they were not so is to be set down to the bravery of the gallant fellows who were then working for our salvation.

Never in all the story of a retreat can there be a more glorious page written than that which told of our own _pontonniers_ on this famous day of November.

Let me tell you in brief words that, despite the bitter cold, the snow which beat upon their faces and the icy water of the river, they plunged boldly into the stream, and stood there, often working up to their necks, that the bridge which should save the army might be built.

The feat has been made light of by subsequent writers; yet here I bear witness that a n.o.bler thing was never done, nor any task achieved so heroically in all the years of His Majesty's victories.

Imagine it, my friends, and think upon our situation.

We knew that the Russians were to the north and the south of us. The ancient bridge below Borisoff had been cut. If we could not ford this icy stream, then death or the horrors of a Russian prison awaited us.

Our one hope was this determined band of ten, who offered their own lives upon the altar of our safety and plunged into the river that they might win it for us.

Hour by hour we watched them with feverish eyes. Even the Emperor came down to the place, and with his own hand served wine to those heroes who were winning life for him. One by one the pontoons were moored, and the gap between the coveted sh.o.r.es made narrower.

To me it seemed as though it were a race between Fate and the fortunes of France. I saw the river rising every hour; the moaning wind became a dreadful thing to hear as the day waxed and waned. And ever through the terrible hours the snow fell pitilessly and the ice gathered and crashed in the torrent which lashed the pontoons.

Would our fellows win by nightfall, or was all indeed lost? I answered the question for myself when, at sunset, the triumphant cries of the fusiliers announced that a communication with the opposite sh.o.r.e was established, and I saw the Guard ride over, their trumpets blaring and their eagles proudly proclaiming their victory.

A few minutes later I myself rode over the bridge, and immediately rode back again. It was something to feel that the devilish stream was conquered and the fruits of brave men's toil reaped to the full. Alas, how little I knew of what was to come after or of the slaughter which must attend the unspeakable morrow!

I have told you that I crossed the bridge and immediately recrossed it.

This was upon an order of General Roguet himself, who told me that every surgeon would be needed upon the other side to help the sick across, and that I must rejoin our own company of Velites as quickly as might be. It had never been in my head to desert old Monsieur d'Izambert and his daughter, and I sought them out directly I had recrossed to the eastern bank. My nephew was with them at this time, but Gabriel d'Izambert had not yet returned from the river, nor did any know his whereabouts. Naturally, we hoped that he had gone across with the Fusiliers of the Guard, but the old gentleman refused to believe that he had done so, and was already determined to spend the night in the shepherd's hut. Here he was well enough, and, for that matter, I thought we had all done wisely to camp where we were rather than to find an open bivouac on the farther sh.o.r.e.

That this was the general opinion the scene upon our side of the river quickly made manifest. Far to the north and south of the twin bridges which the _pontonniers_ had now erected were the bivouac fires and the camps of the gathered remnants. Baggage wagons began to roll up, and their attendants to gather in hundreds, eyeing the dismal waters and promising to cross at dawn. No one seemed to think that there was any hurry or that it mattered where he slept to-night. In truth, I think the army believed that a great moral victory had already been won, and that the end of its sufferings was at hand. Let them but cross the river, and the fair fields of France would beckon them. Again I say that they had forgotten the bitter leagues which lay between them and liberty.

My own duty at this time was to see to the sick of our own regiment, and to provide for their crossing. Here I found willing helpers. We collected the wagons with their unhappy burdens, and drew them up as near to the river as we dared. Why they were not sent across that night, I cannot tell you. When I recall the precious hours that we wasted, the solitude of the bridges, and the miracle of the opportunity, it seems to me that no words can describe truly the magnitude of that blunder. Yet there it was, and so at length we slept during the long hours of storm and darkness. When we awoke the Russians were upon the hills about us, and their sh.e.l.ls were already thundering upon our bivouac. G.o.d, what an awakening for men who had hoped so much!

V

The sound of cannon broke in upon our sleep a little after the hour of dawn.

We had made a comfortable bivouac in the hut, and were all dozing in the straw which covered its floor, when the earth about us began to tremble, and everyone started up to realise the dread alarm.

It chanced that I was lying cheek by jowl with Valerie St. Antoine, and that we were the first of them all to run into the open and ascertain the truth. It needed but a single glance at the hills and the river to tell us that story in all its menace.

It was just light at this time--a colder morning than that of yesterday, with a clearer heaven. As the clouds of night rolled away, the black figures of the Cossacks upon the hills were clearly to be discerned, while the smoke of their cannon drifted slowly upon the still air and hovered above the swirling river. It was plain that a considerable force had come up in the night, and, having discovered our intention, began immediately to fire upon the bridges. We could see their cannon-b.a.l.l.s plumping into the water, striking the floes of driving ice, or even rending the frail pontoons which our engineers had moored with such difficulty. And while they did this a cry of horror ran from end to end of our own encampment--the cries of those who believed that delay had undone them, and that they were betrayed.

From every camp fire now, from the shelter of puny huts and caves dug out of the earth, from wagons and tents, there appeared a stream of men and women, too, camp followers who mingled with the soldiery and cursed or entreated as the mood dictated.

Standing upon a knoll not a hundred paces from the bridge, Mademoiselle Valerie and I were soon enveloped by these pitiful creatures, who ran to and fro like driven sheep, and had lost what little wit they had possessed. It was a dreadful thing to see women of all ages, with the tears streaming down their faces, their hair unkempt and their dress but a tatter of rags, throwing themselves at the feet of officers as helpless as they, and begging instantly to be escorted across the bridge. Yet such was the scene into which I was now plunged, and such the disorderly mob with which the remnant of the army had to deal. As for ourselves, it did not seem very much to matter what we did.

Mademoiselle Valerie, as imperturbable as ever, addressed words of comfort to the unhappy people and begged them to be patient.

"The soldiers will protect you," she said; and, G.o.d knows, how much I wished that the boast could be made good.

We, however, were as helpless as they, and, when we found ourselves alone, the truth was not to be concealed.

"They will destroy the bridge, Monsieur Constant," she said; "and what then? Is there anyone here who can tell us what to do?"

I rejoined that wiser heads would have told us last night, and reminded her that we had the old man and the child to think of.

"The bridge must be crossed at any cost," said I. "Convince the old gentleman of that, and we will set out immediately. It is idle to stop here on the supposition that his son will return. Do you not see yourself how unreasonable it is?"

She agreed with me, and returned immediately to the hut.

Unfortunately, we had to deal with the obstinacy of a father to whom the only son was all that mattered in this world. Monsieur d'Izambert refused to move a step until the young _pontonnier_ had returned. Nor would he hear of our escorting his daughter across the river.

"We will cross together," he said, "or we will not cross at all. My daughter would wish it, major. How would it help her to return to France when those dear to her remain the prisoners of this unhappy country? You do not know what you are asking me--to leave my only son; it is impossible."

I saw that nothing would convince him, and taking Valerie aside, I told her as much.

"It will be a case of sauve qui peut," said I. "We are under no obligation to these people, and why should we perish because of them?

Come with me now, and, if it is possible to do so, I will recross the river later in the day. I pledge my word upon that. But, mademoiselle," said I, "it is madness for you to listen to them."

She shook her head, smiling in the old, alluring way.

"It has all been madness," she exclaimed; and that was as true a thing as ever she said.

"We shall stand a better chance to-night, Monsieur Constant, than now, when there are so many on the bridge," she continued. "Let us wait upon our opportunity. Surely you would not attempt the pa.s.sage at this moment?" And she pointed to the bridges, thronged already by a terrified mob, and pounded by the cannon of the Russians.

My answer to this was a shrug of the shoulders, for no other seemed possible.

Any man who was at the Berezina will understand the terror and pity of the scene I now witnessed and the helplessness of any Frenchman who stood upon the eastern bank of the cursed river.

As a hail of death, the sh.e.l.ls and the bullets of the Russians poured down upon the terror-stricken fugitives. Dreadful cries arose. So great was the press upon the pontoons that hundreds of our people were thrust headlong into the swirling waters, hundreds of the weak crushed beneath the feet of the stronger. All huddled together--wagons driven over living men, cavalry hewing their way with swords, the cries of cantinieres, women and children screaming for pity--all, I say, pressed on in that mad quest of shelter which was to be offered to so few.

Soon the river was black with the bodies of the drowned. I saw wretched creatures clinging to the ice-floes or the pontoons of the bridge; some fighting as devils for a foothold upon the narrow way; others too weak to struggle as the strong thrust them aside and the black water enveloped them. Wisely indeed had Valerie insisted upon delay. Yet it was a melancholy thing to reflect that even an hour before the day had dawned we might all have pa.s.sed over in safety and set out upon our way to the Paris of our dreams.

I shall not weary you with any undue recital of the horrors of that unnameable day. From dawn to dusk the slaughter continued. It was a tragic moment indeed when the Russians at length destroyed the greater bridge, and with it a regiment of cavalry of the Guard then pa.s.sing over. This was quite early in the day, and thereafter the scenes upon the pontoons became beyond all words awful to witness. Even the bravest were as helpless as children in that terrible _lutte pour la vie_. I remember, about one o'clock in the afternoon, riding down to the water's edge with my old friend Gros-Jean of the Velites, and watching the frantic endeavour that most courageous of men made to cross the bridge, despite my entreaties. Alas! he had but plunged into the medley when a Cuira.s.sier of the Guard thrust him down, and he, in turn, clinging to his aggressor's cloak, they rolled headlong on to a great floe of ice, and were presently engulfed with the thousands the insatiable waters already had claimed. Who in the face of such scenes would have advised a woman and an old man to dare the transit? Not I, in truth, whatever the cost.

The miseries of our own situation will now be perceived by all. We had refrained from crossing upon a quixotic impulse, and it seemed that our sacrifice had cost us our liberty if not our lives. Hour by hour the Cossacks were drawing nearer, their fire becoming more terrible and their hosts more plainly to be seen. Night must find them down upon us, or we ourselves but units amidst the maddened people who fought like wild beasts for a foothold on the bridge. Even old Monsieur d'Izambert began to perceive the folly of it as the day waxed and waned, and vainly he waited for the son who did not return.

"We should have crossed," he said; "Gabriel must have gone with the Emperor."

So much I believed to be the truth until about the hour of five o'clock, when to our great astonishment the young _pontonnier_ himself appeared at the hut, and carried that dire intelligence which was all that was needed to consummate our despair.

"I am to blow up the bridge," he said. "It is by the Emperor's orders.

We must save the army; the others must perish."

We did not answer him. To such had our mistaken folly led us. It was death or the Russian prison indeed; there could be no alternative.

VI

You will see the nature of the difficulty which now confronted us.

It was almost certain death to venture upon the bridge; the alternative meant that we faced the Cossacks and accepted grace at their hands.

To myself, an old soldier who had served His Majesty so many years, it mattered little now what befell me. So much had I suffered, so bitter had been the days, that any shelter--even that of a prison, in which I could eat and sleep--would have been a welcome harbourage from this march of death.