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Updated: June 12, 2025
Even then, as she was rather deaf, she probably did not realize what was happening, and went into the street in such fear that she left everything behind her. From Barcy we drove out into the plain, and took the direction of Chambry, following the line of the great and decisive fight of September 6 and 7. We rolled slowly across the beautiful undulating country of grain and beet fields.
Yesterday Amélie and I took advantage of it to make a pilgrimage across the Marne, to decorate the graves on the battlefield at Chambry. Crowds went out on All Soul's Day, but I never like doing anything, even making a pilgrimage, in a crowd.
This was the case last summer, when General Dessolles's brother was transferred from the Bishopric of Digne to that of Chambry, and Bonaparte nominated for his successor the brother of General Miollis, who was a curate of Brignoles, in the diocese of Aix.
During the day of September 6th Manoury made headway toward the Ourcq. On the following day he advanced at a lesser pace on its left bank, taking and then losing the villages of Marcilly and Chambry murderous struggles maintained amid terrible heat.
We came near to the villages of Chambry, Marcilly, Etrepilly, and Vincy along the road from Meaux to Soissons and found that the trenches dug by the Germans were filled with human corpses in thick, serried masses. Quicklime and straw had been thrown over them by the ton. Piles of bodies of men and of horses had been partially cremated in the most rudimentary fashion.
You may know a finer way to go. I do not. Surely, since Death is, it is better than dying of old age between clean sheets. Near the end of the route we came to the little walled cemetery of Chambry, the scene of one of the most desperate struggles of the 6th and 7th of September. You know what the humble village burying-grounds are like.
Penchard is the town in which the Germans exercised their taste for wilful nastiness, of which I wrote you weeks ago. It is a pretty little village, beautifully situated, commanding the slopes to the Marne on one side, and the wide plains of Barcy and Chambry on the other. It is prosperous looking, the home of sturdy farmers and the small rentiers.
The driver talked to us in faint murmurs over his shoulder, indicating the positions of various villages such as Penchard, Poincy, Crecy, Monthyon, Chambry, Varreddes, all of which will be found, in the future detailed histories of the great locust-advance. "Did you yourself see any Germans?" "Yes." "Where?" "At Meaux." "How many?" He smiled. "About a dozen."
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