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Without apparent cause the Boches, now nearly upon the first Allied trenches, found that they were the center of a bombardment from the rear. What did that mean? The fire was withering. Could the foe they were attacking be taking them in the flank? The idea was almost unbelievable. And yet the fire was also insupportable.
A short distance away were several rows of X's of wood united by barbed wire, forming a compact fence. About three hundred feet further on, was a second wire fence. There reigned a profound silence here, a silence of absolute loneliness as though the world was asleep. "There are the trenches of the Boches," said the Commandant, in a low tone. "Where?" asked the senator, making an effort to see.
Sitting at the white table worn with much scrubbing, and slowly sipping the coffee, we engaged the old man and woman in conversation. They were very bitter in their denunciation of "les boches," and spoke of their sacrifices as nothing. "Why, monsieur, it is for France! It is not for us to complain if she ask much from us."
It had been placed there by order of the King of France after Joan was dead. But it wasn't so much the statue that she wanted us to look at; it was the mutilations that were upon it. She was filled with a great trembling of indignation. "Yes, gaze your fill upon it, Messieurs," she said; "it was les Boches did that. They were here in 1870.
But the corporal stopped him instantly. "Don't dig them out!" he cried. "There's no knowing but what you may cause an explosion. Or they may have some electric connection that will give warning to the Boches. We've spotted the location of this infernal trap and that's enough. Our officers will see that our men steer clear of it."
Mind you wear it, when I'm away, and tell me you're wearing it then I can fancy it. 'Will you ever have time to think of me George? She bent towards him. He laughed. 'Well, not when I'm going over the parapet to attack the Boches. Honestly, one thinks of nothing then but how one can get one's men across. But you won't come off badly, my little Nell for thoughts night or day.
To a finish, my friends!" chirped in the bearded warrior, sipping at a fresh cup of steaming coffee. "Then it is not for us to grumble, but rather for the Boches. For, see, desperate men who cannot be relieved, and who will not surrender, fight like rats in a trap, and such beasts were ever venomous. And so, Monsieur le Lieutenant, there are none to help us?" "None!" came the cheery answer.
"Oh, I just dropped down in answer to your signal. I thought if the Boches were about to get you, they might have another chance at me, see?" A faint yet hilarious chuckle came forth. Then: "Say, Lafe, when I first tumbled down here, I thought I was a goner. But I wasn't hurt much. My machine is smashed, though." "What brought you down? Why didn't you go a little further?"
It happened in this way: When the "Boches," as they call the Germans, overran the country last August and September, they took all the wine from the saloon keepers and brewers, and the best horses, cattle and hogs from the farmers. They paid for these articles with requisitions or orders on the German Government, payable after the war if Germany won.
They were talking in lowered voices. Only a dim light came into the room through the cracks in the shutters. The door to the little room stood half open, and from it came the deep silence of death. Children's laughter echoed in the courtyard. Suddenly they heard the voice of Nana, who had escaped from the Boches to whom she had been sent.
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