Read Ebook: Encyclopaedia Britannica 11th Edition Home Daniel to Hortensius Quintus Volume 13 Slice 6 by Various

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Ebook has 511 lines and 192992 words, and 11 pages

Upon leaving table one day with General de Maud'huy, we came upon a group of German prisoners, who immediately looked at us, saluting respectfully.

"These are 'my prisoners,'" the general told me, "they work in the cantonment."

"I had at the beginning about a dozen boches and mustered them every night because we were only ten miles from the line of fire."

"Several escaped?" I asked.

"On the contrary," he replied. "The second night we counted eleven, the third, fifteen. Now there are fifty. We never knew where they came from!"

"I have enough boches. I mustered them all yesterday and told them that if their number kept on increasing I would send them all back. You will agree that it is impossible to keep a strict count under these conditions!"

I saw Admiral Ronarc'h for the first time to-day.

All morning the city of Nieuport was bombarded with shells of a very large caliber, crushing and enveloping the poor little Flemish homes in great clouds of brick-dust and smoke. The ground trembled. Our Marine Fusiliers must have paid them back in full, for they returned a heavy fire from the large guns of the fortress.

I arrived at Nieuport-Baths along the river Yser with Captain Ricard, who said to me:

At the moment we reached the locks we were well serenaded--the shells literally rained around us. At regular intervals the larger ones burst in the city. Abject ruins--I no longer recognized this once lively little city which I visited during my childhood, dead and deserted to-day!

Finally we came, about four o'clock, to the admiral's shelter, where we found him, with Commandant Delage and the chaplain.

I was received with smiles and hearty handshakes; on similar days one is always sure to be received by the admiral in a most charming manner.

"Lucky chap," he said, "well have you chosen the day of your first visit to Nieuport. What a bombardment, hey! fortunately all goes well, practically no losses--that right, Delage?"

Commandant Delage smiled all over.

"Yes, admiral."

At that moment a shell burst so close that pictures were torn from the walls and a chair was turned upside down. A cloud of dust spouted through the ventilating shaft--at the same time we heard a rumbling of falling walls, the clattering of splintered glass and broken tiling falling on the ground.

We had, for our protection, an arch made of half-thicknesses of bricks. If we must be struck, then we should have, at least, the opportunity of not suffering very long!

Each told his story, tales of the sea and of the war--then--that was not all, there was a programme of work to accomplish, and we at once set about the task.

Toward nightfall, I left the shelter or cave, which I shall never forget. The shell which shook us fell in the courtyard of a house, scooping out a funnel-shaped crater thirty feet in diameter. A Marine discovered the base of the projectile: a 420!

A comrade who helped him carry it said:

"They are foolish if they think they can kill our admiral with a 420, and also be sure that St. Anne of Brittany will curse their German God!"

Sealed telegrams are seen on the floor, and, it is strange, they have not excited the curiosity of the plunderers, for these latter would have found some fastidious reading. I confess, what concerned me was the desire to open some of them to see what persons could have said at the moment of evacuating Nieuport-Baths.

The first was addressed to an English woman, "Mrs. Smith, Regina Hotel, Nieuport-Baths." It said: "Things are beginning to get worse where you are. Nevertheless, do whatever you think best. Smith."

I opened the second telegram:

Among all this tragedy and desolation here, above all, was the final comedy. I folded the telegram and placed it in my pocket.

After having told a thousand details of our life in the trenches, some frightful enough, others sad, the moment had arrived to inject a note of gaiety into the sombre tableau which I had sketched for them--I drew forth Attila's telegram.

"And Attila?"

"He is the Director of the Th??tre des Galeries St. Hubert, in Brussels and well known in Paris!"

The Marines have found a way to divert German rifle fire from our loopholes in the trenches.

They have tied a number of empty sardine cans on the ends of sticks and fixed the latter firmly in the parapet, at which the boches shoot continually.

Since then "Fritz" spends his spare time in trying to knock them down; our losses have perceptibly diminished.

Rifle balls whistle to-night through the streets oftener than usual; there is a certain amount of nervousness in the sector.

We had a great time that night!

We are going to install an electrical machine on the right bank of the river Yser. My men are bringing the heavy box in which it was transported. With its timbers protruding from each end, which makes the carrying less difficult, the gray covering looks more like a sedan chair.

"Hey," I shouted, addressing them, "what would you say if you had a beautiful Parisian Princess in that box?"

"What would I say," returned an old corporal, "what would I say? I would say nothing, but I would put her in my bunk to warm my feet, and you fellows could battle among yourselves!"

The rumble of the surf and the noise of the big guns do not sound well together.

This trench is bad to-night--the shifting sand obstructs my progress.

It is the time when the tide ceases to rise and the Territorials begin their work.

The trench is empty. No, there is someone sitting on the sand. At his side is a frame shelter made of ammunition boxes. He is alone. I imagined the boy had lost his way.

"Where have you been?"

"I dunno."

"Where are you going?"

"Over there."

"Who are you with?"

"With the others."

Not another word.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the whole damned army!"

I came accidentally in the trench, among a lot of leaves, upon a letter from a girl. It was almost covered by the sand.

A group of Zouaves have thrown themselves upon the sand. They are discussing animatedly German atrocities and cruelties in the invaded region.

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