Men sorely wounded in the open share one trait at least with the lower
animals. The dying creature--whether man or beast--dreads to lie and
die in the naked field. It drags itself in among the trees if it has
the strength.
I believe every woodland in northern France was a poison place, and
remained so until the freezing of winter sealed up its abominations
under ice and frost.
Nearing Rheims we turned into a splendid straight highway bordered by
trees, where the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the dead
leaves, which still hung from the boughs and dappled the yellow road
with black splotches, until it made you think of jaguar pelts. Midway of
our course here we met troops moving toward us in force. First, as
usual, came scouts on bicycles and motorcycles. One young chap had
woven sheaves of dahlias and red peonies into the frame of his wheel,
and through the clump of quivering blossoms the barrel of his rifle
showed, like a black snake in a bouquet. He told us that troops were
coming behind, going to the extreme right wing--a good many thousands of
troops, he thought.
Pages:
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309