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"Just one old man," said the poilu, "who lives all alone in his cellar, over there." He pointed, and suddenly from the ground emerged an aged man, white haired and erect. He came toward us, an astonishingly handsome figure.
On we dashed, until we heard a challenging voice, and discerned a French poilu. "'Aviation anglaise, announced my friend. After satisfying himself, the sentry permitted us to continue on our way. A little further on, to our chagrin, we learned that a lorry had broken down on a bridge, and that if our car could not pass it, it would mean a detour of nine miles.
Going through the long communication trench, between the ruined city of Rheims and an observation lookout, with its view of the German front trench, we passed several soldiers digging an opening in the soft white marl, into a parallel trench. The captain in charge called my attention to a French poilu. His hair was quite black, save for the half inch next to the scalp and that was white as snow.
"Well, you are wanted, wanted badly, for we've fought our way back from Ornes and Bezonvaux, and there are precious few of us left to do more fighting. You are fresh at the game eh? my comrades." "Fresh!" ejaculated Jules, looking quite indignant. "Bien! But I hardly meant that," the poilu told them. "In appearance you are not fresh. No, certainly not; far from it.
Resignation had thereupon made way for a rebellious mood and rebellion found sustenance everywhere. The poilu demobilized retained his military spirit, nay, he carried about with him the very atmosphere of the trenches. He had rid himself of the sentiment of fear and the faculty of reverence went with it.
In a hundred cunning little nooks, in corners which one hardly expected to come upon, there were field-kitchens, where a fire might be kindled without attracting the enemy or his artillery-fire, and where soup beloved of the poilu might be prepared for those on duty.
The poilu is very fond of sweets. Sometimes swish bang! a big shell comes in unexpectedly, and shopkeepers and clients hurry, at a decent tempo, to the cellar. There, in the earthy obscurity, one sits down on empty herring-boxes and vegetable cases to wait calmly for the exasperating Boches to finish their nonsense. There is a smell of kerosene oil and onions in the air.
Meanwhile the Yank or Tommie or Poilu went to his own commissary or to the British Navy and Army Canteen Bureau, "N. A. C. B." to the doughboy's memory, or to our various "Y" canteens and at a fixed rate of exchange a rate fixed by the bankers in London to use his roubles in buying things.
That journal, Castanado remarked to Chester as at a corner table he poured him a glass of cordial, brought the war, the trenches, the poilu and the boche closer than any other they knew. Beloiseau and Mme. Alexandre, he softly explained, had come in quite unlooked-for to discuss the great strife and might depart at any moment. Then the reading!
"The last civilian in Verdun," the soldiers called him, but his manner was rather that of the Poilu. We crossed the river and the canal and stopped by the ruin of what had once been a big factory or warehouse. We crawled through an open shell-made breach in the brick wall and stood in the interior. The ashes were still hot, and in corners there were smoking fires.
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