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By Root 2053 0

’s deluge his cape was still heavy with wet, and that had left him aching in every limb. On water fatigue for the coffee, he glanced over the plain on one edge of which Boult-aux-Bois is situated: forests rise up west and north and a ridge climbs up to the village of Belleville, whilst eastwards towards Buzancy are wide flat stretches of land with slight undulations in which hamlets nestle. Was that the direction from which the enemy was expected? On his way back from the stream with his canful of water he was hailed by a distressed family of peasants at their cottage door who asked him whether the soldiers were really going to stay this time and defend them. Three times already, acting on contradictory orders, the 5th corps had crossed and re-crossed their district. The day before they had heard gunfire in the direction of Bar. Certainly the Prussians were not more than two leagues away. When Maurice told these poor folk that the 7th corps was probably setting off too, they took it very badly. So they were being let down, so the soldiers didn’t come to fight, then, for they saw them appearing and disappearing, but always running away.

‘Anybody what wants sugar,’ said Loubet as he served the coffee, ‘has only got to stick his thumb in and wait till it melts.’

But nobody was amused. Coffee without sugar was pretty awful anyway, but if only they had some biscuit! On the plain at Quatre-Champs the day before, almost everybody, for the sake of something to do while hanging about, had finished off the provisions in his pack and swallowed the last crumbs. But fortunately the squad discovered a dozen potatoes, which were shared out.

Maurice, whose stomach was in a bad way, moaned:

‘If I had known at Le Chêne I’d have bought some bread!’

Jean listened but said nothing. He had had a row first thing with Chouteau, whom he wanted to send on wood fatigue and who had insolently refused, saying it wasn’t his turn. Since everything had been going from bad to worse, indiscipline was on the increase, and the officers were reaching the stage of not daring to reprimand anyone. Jean with his sweet reasonableness had realized that he must play down his authority as a corporal for fear of provoking overt rebellion. So he had turned into a good fellow, appearing to be just a comrade to his men, to whom his experience was still of great value. If his squad wasn’t as well fed as it had been, anyway it was not dying of hunger as so many others were. But Maurice’s distress upset him in particular, for he felt that he was weakening, and he watched him with an anxious eye, wondering how this delicate young man would ever manage to go through with it.

When Jean heard Maurice complain about having no bread he got up and disappeared for a moment and then came back after rummaging in his pack. Slipping a biscuit into Maurice’s hand, he said:

‘Here you are, hide it, I haven’t enough for everybody!’

‘But what about you?’ asked the young man, very touched.

‘Me? Oh, never you fear… I’ve still got two left.’

It was true, he had treasured three biscuits in case there was any fighting, knowing you can get terribly hungry on a battlefield. Anyhow he had just had a potato. That’d do for him. See later on.

At about ten the 7th moved off again. The marshal’s original intention must have been to sent it via Buzancy to Stenay, where it would have crossed the Meuse. But the Prussians, outstripping the army of Châlons, must be at Stenay already, and were even said to be at Buzancy. So, turned back northwards, the 7th had had orders to make for La Besace, twenty-odd kilometres from Boult-aux-Bois, in order to go on from there the day after and cross the Meuse at Mouzon. It was a surly departure, the men were grumbling, with their stomachs unsatisfied and their limbs unrested, worn out by the fatigues and delays of the previous days, and the officers, sullen and yielding to the general apprehension about the catastrophe they were heading for, complained about the inaction and were annoyed because they had not gone to Buzancy to reinforce the 5th corps, whose gunfire