"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!"
LA CORVÉE, THE GREAT DUNE. _April_, 1915.
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.
A STRAYED LETTER, THE GREAT DUNE. _April_, 1915.
I came accidentally in the trench, among a lot of leaves, upon a letter from a girl. It was almost covered by the sand.
"It is very lonesome, here, without you," it ran, "I think of you night and day, on the farm, in the fields, always. How wonderful it would be to clasp you in my arms, very, very tightly. I hope a baby will come. If it is a boy we will make him a strong _poilu_ like yourself--if it is a girl we will call her VICTORY--and you see how beautiful the little one--our little one--will be. I will work a bit harder to bring her up well----"
A PERPLEXED CHAPLAIN, THE GREAT DUNE. _April_, 1915.
A group of Zouaves have thrown themselves upon the sand. They are discussing animatedly German atrocities and cruelties in the invaded region.
The soldier-chaplain, seated by their side, says nothing, but contents himself with gazing steadily into the sand at their feet.
"Those cutthroats over there have done everything: they have violated women, young girls----"
"No, you idiot, why bring them into it----"
"--they have burned villages, massacred, killed old men, pillaged, robbed----"
"We will repay them--an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."
"Yes. When we get into their country, we will organize bands. We will have violaters, pillagers--incendiaries----"
"In what category do you want to be, Father?"
A CORPSE BETWEEN THE LINES, THE GREAT DUNE. _May_, 1915.
While returning from a night reconnaissance between the lines one of our Zouaves had been killed; his body lay for several days in the sand about forty feet from our first line.