Read Ebook: My Home in the Field of Honor by Huard Frances Wilson

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Ebook has 1353 lines and 56750 words, and 28 pages

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

BY FRANCES WILSON HUARD

The third week in July found a very merry gathering at the Chateau de Villiers.

Nothing, I think, could have been farther from thoughts than the idea of war. Our May Wilson Preston, the artist; Mrs. Chase, the editor of a well-known woman's magazine; Hugues Delorme, the French artist; and numerous other guests, discussed the theatre and the "Caillaux case" from every conceivable point of view, and their conversations were only interrupted by serious attempts to prove their national superiority at bridge, and long delightful walks in the park.

As I look back now over those cheerful times, I can distinctly remember one bright sunny morning, when after a half-hour's climbing we reached the highest spot on our property. Very warm and a trifle out of breath we sought shelter beneath a big purple beech, and I can still hear H. explaining to Mrs. Chase:

"Below you on the right runs the Marne, and over there, beyond those hills, do you see that long straight line of trees?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's the road that lead's from Paris to Metz!"

On Monday, the 27th, Mrs. Preston, having decided to take her leave, I determined to accompany her to Paris. Several members of the house party joined us, leaving H. and a half-dozen friends at Villiers. We took an early morning train, and wrapped in our newspapers we were rolling peacefully towards the capital when someone called out, "For Heaven's sake, look at those funny soldiers!"

Glancing through the window, I caught sight of numerous gray-haired, bushy-bearded men stationed at even distances along the line, while here and there little groups beneath or around a tent were preparing the morning meal.

What strange looking creatures they were; anything but military in their dirty white overalls--the only things that betrayed their calling being their caps and their guns!

"What on earth are they?" queried an American.

"Oh, only some territorials serving their last period of twenty-nine days. It's not worth while giving them uniforms for so short a time!"

"Bah!" came from the other end of the compartment. "I should think it was hot enough in the barracks without forcing men that age to mount a guard in the sun!"

And in like manner the conversation rose and dwindled, and we returned to our papers, paying no more attention to the territorials stationed along the rails.

"A thousand pardons. I'm horribly late, but you'll forgive me when you hear the news. I've just come from the Foreign Office. All diplomatic relations with Germany are suspended. War will be declared Saturday!"

Mr. Gautron and I looked at each other, then at Mr. Mortier, and smiled.

"No, I'm not joking. I'm as serious as I have ever been in my life. The proof: on leaving the Foreign Office I went and had a neglected tooth filled, and on my way down, stopped at my shoemaker's and ordered a pair of good strong boots for Saturday morning. I'll be fit then to join my regiment."

Our faces fell.

"But why Saturday?"

"Because Saturday's the first of August, and the idea of keeping the news back is to prevent a panic on the Bourse, and to let the July payments have time to be realized."

"You don't really believe it's serious, do you?"

Somewhat disconcerted by this astonishing news, we had some little difficulty getting down to facts, but when we did business was speedily dispatched and Mr. Mortier took his leave. Mr. Gautron carried me off to luncheon.

"You must come," he protested when I pleaded an engagement. "You must come, or my wife and the boys will never believe me."

We found Madame Gautron and her two splendid sons waiting rather impatiently. We told our news.

"Come, come now. You can't make us take that as an excuse!"

We protested our sincerity, and went in to luncheon which began rather silently.

I questioned the boys as to their military duties. Both were under-officers in an infantry regiment--bound to join their barracks within twenty-four hours after the call to arms.

We did not linger over our coffee. Each one seemed anxious to go about his affairs. I left the Gautron boys at the comer of their street, each carrying his army shoes under his arm.

"To be greased--in case of accident," they laughingly explained.

That was the last time I ever saw them. They fell "on the Field of Honour" both the same day, and hardly a month later.

But to return to my affairs.

A trifle upset by what Mr. Mortier had told me, I hurried to the nearest telephone station and asked for Villiers. When after what seemed an interminable time I got the connection, I explained to H. what had happened.

"For Heaven's sake leave politics alone and take the five o'clock train home! We need you to make a second fourth at bridge." H.'s lightheartedness somewhat reassured me, though for prudence's sake I went to my bank and asked to withdraw my entire account.

"Why, Madame Huard," said the clerk in surprise, "you mean to say you are frightened?"

I explained what I had heard in the morning.

He almost persuaded me, but after hesitating a moment I decided to abide by my original intentions.

"I can always put my money back in a week or so if all blows over and I find I don't need it," I argued.

"Certainly, Madame--as you will."

As the five o'clock express hurried me back home I began to understand the gravity of the situation--for the "queer looking soldiers" were nearer together all along the railway line, and it dawned on me that theirs was a very serious mission--namely, that of safeguarding the steel artery which leads from Paris to the eastern frontier.

At Charly, our station, I was much surprised to see three French officers in full uniform get off the train and step into the taxi-autobus which deposits its travelers at the only hotel in the vicinity.

My friend and neighbor, Elizabeth Gauthier, was the only one who took the matter seriously, and that because she had no less than five brothers and a husband who would be obliged to serve in case of serious events. I felt rather ashamed when I saw her countenance darken, for after all, she was alone in Villiers with two tiny children; her husband, the well-known archivist, coming down but for the week-end. "What is the sense of alarming people so uselessly?" I thought.

Wednesday, the 29th, the papers began to talk of "a tension in the political relations between France and Germany" which, however, did not quench the gaiety of a picnic luncheon in the grove by our river.

"In case of mobilization," said he, "you have three horses and your farm cart to present to the authorities. Your cart must have its awnings complete. And your horses harnessed with their halters!"

H. laughed and told him that he was giving himself a lot of useless trouble.

Thursday, the 30th, market day at Charly, the nearest town to Villiers. We both drove down in the victoria, and were not surprised to see my officers of the day before seated in the hotel dining-room, finishing breakfast.

"What are they down here for?" I queried of the proprietor.

"It's rather a treat to see a uniform out here, where hardly an officer has appeared since last year when we had Prince George of Servia and his staff for three days."

Friday, the 31st, however, the tone of the newspapers was serious and our little village began to grow alarmed when several soldiers on holiday leave received individual official telegrams to rejoin their regiments immediately. Little knots of peasants could be seen grouped together along the village street, a thing unheard of in that busy season when vineyards need so much attention. Towards noon the news ran like wildfire that men belonging to the youngest classes had received their official notices and we're leaving to join their corps. Yet there was no commotion anywhere.

"It will last three weeks and they'll all come home, safe and sound. It's bothersome, though, that the Government should choose just our busiest season to take the men out for a holiday!" declared one peasant.

There was less hilarity in the servants' hall when I entered after luncheon. At least I fancied so. The men had gone about their work quicker than usual, and the women were silently washing up.

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