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The Downfall (La Debacle) Part 3
by
“I’ll take the kettle and go and fill it,” said Jean.
The others objected.
“No, no! We don’t want to be poisoned; it is full of dead bodies!”
They spoke the truth. The Meuse was constantly bringing down corpses of men and horses; they could be seen floating with the current at any moment of the day, swollen and of a greenish hue, in the early stages of decomposition. Often they were caught in the weeds and bushes on the bank, where they remained to poison the atmosphere, swinging to the tide with a gentle, tremulous motion that imparted to them a semblance of life. Nearly every soldier who had drunk that abominable water had suffered from nausea and colic, often succeeded afterward by dysentery. It seemed as if they must make up their mind to use it, however, as there was no other; Maurice explained that there would be no danger in drinking it after it was boiled.
“Very well, then; I’ll go,” said Jean. And he started, taking Lapoulle with him to carry the kettle.
By the time they got the kettle filled and on the fire it was quite dark. Loubet had peeled the beets and thrown them into the water to cook–a feast fit for the gods, he declared it would be–and fed the fire with fragments of the wheelbarrow, for they were all suffering so from hunger that they could have eaten the meat before the pot began to boil. Their huge shadows danced fantastically in the firelight on the rocky walls of the quarry. Then they found it impossible longer to restrain their appetite, and threw themselves upon the unclean mess, tearing the flesh with eager, trembling fingers and dividing it among them, too impatient even to make use of the knife. But, famishing as they were, their stomachs revolted; they felt the want of salt, they could not swallow that tasteless, sickening broth, those chunks of half-cooked, viscid meat that had a taste like clay. Some among them had a fit of vomiting. Pache was very ill. Chouteau and Loubet heaped maledictions on that infernal old nag, that had caused them such trouble to get him to the pot and then given them the colic. Lapoulle was the only one among them who ate abundantly, but he was in a very bad way that night when, with his three comrades, he returned to their resting-place under the poplars by the canal.
On their way back to camp Maurice, without uttering a word, took advantage of the darkness to seize Jean by the arm and drag him into a by-path. Their comrades inspired him with unconquerable disgust; he thought he should like to go and sleep in the little wood where he had spent his first night on the peninsula. It was a good idea, and Jean commended it highly when he had laid himself down on the warm, dry ground, under the shelter of the dense foliage. They remained there until the sun was high in the heavens, and enjoyed a sound, refreshing slumber, which restored to them something of their strength.
The following day was Thursday, but they had ceased to note the days; they were simply glad to observe that the weather seemed to be coming off fine again. Jean overcame Maurice’s repugnance and prevailed on him to return to the canal, to see if their regiment was not to move that day. Not a day passed now but detachments of prisoners, a thousand to twelve hundred strong, were sent off to the fortresses in Germany. The day but one before they had seen, drawn up in front of the Prussian headquarters, a column of officers of various grades, who were going to Pont-a-Mousson, there to take the railway. Everyone was possessed with a wild, feverish longing to get away from that camp where they had seen such suffering. Ah! if it but might be their turn! And when they found the 106th still encamped on the bank of the canal, in the inevitable disorder consequent upon such distress, their courage failed them and they despaired.
Jean and Maurice that day thought they saw a prospect of obtaining something to eat. All the morning a lively traffic had been going on between the prisoners and the Bavarians on the other side of the canal; the former would wrap their money in a handkerchief and toss it across to the opposite shore, the latter would return the handkerchief with a loaf of coarse brown bread, or a plug of their common, damp tobacco. Even soldiers who had no money were not debarred from participating in this commerce, employing, instead of currency, their white uniform gloves, for which the Germans appeared to have a weakness. For two hours packages were flying across the canal in its entire length under this primitive system of exchanges. But when Maurice dispatched his cravat with a five-franc piece tied in it to the other bank, the Bavarian who was to return him a loaf of bread gave it, whether from awkwardness or malice, such an ineffectual toss that it fell in the water. The incident elicited shouts of laughter from the Germans. Twice again Maurice repeated the experiment, and twice his loaf went to feed the fishes. At last the Prussian officers, attracted by the uproar, came running up and prohibited their men from selling anything to the prisoners, threatening them with dire penalties and punishments in case of disobedience. The traffic came to a sudden end, and Jean had hard work to pacify Maurice, who shook his fists at the scamps, shouting to them to give him back his five-franc pieces.