In order to set down in proper order the incidents which we experienced between the night of October 31, and November 4 up at the Front, I have tried to reconstruct, from the memory of what others have told me as well as what I felt and saw and heard myself, the terrible experience through which we had come. Some of the scenes I did not witness myself, but I feel now, years later, that I know exactly what happened and what each man said at the time. Just thinking of it makes me want to cry.

On the 31st of October we stopped at an evacuation hospital and spent the afternoon there, because the General wanted to look around a bit and see just how a medical unit of this kind functions within firing distance of the front lines. It was about dusk when we left the hospital, with a borrowed pill-roller as a guide, to show us the more or less circuitous route to the next station of centralization, about twelve kilometers to the east.

I had no idea we were in any danger and I don’t think any of us had any feeling of apprehension as we traveled along in silence over the muddy, rutted road, on which other cars were moving in the same direction. But the guide explained to us that this road was a bending connection of highways which dipped close to the lines at its northern bend, and as we got farther and farther along toward that apex, we did begin to feel a kind of strain, although all was as quiet as it had been.

We had passed several guard posts on the way, each of them waving us on after a perfunctory glance at us and a word of explanation from the guide. In between these points, I had been dozing off, due to the rhythmic whirr of the engine and the fact that nobody had much to say. Even Esky thought it safe enough for him to lie curled up in the tonneau at the General’s feet.

Ben was watching the unlit road with squinted eyes, his jaws set as if in defiance of the difficult going, his mouth opening only when necessary to acknowledge the directions which the guide, sitting between us, gave.

We had passed the halfway mark of our journey when suddenly the lulling stillness was broken by Ben’s exclamation, “They’re shootin’ fireworks for us! Suppose they got the band out to welcome us, too?”

Before he had spoken, we all saw the sudden change in the sky ahead of us. We could see the splurging illumination spread across the skyline a few miles to the front of our position, and in the next moment the terrible stillness became a chaos of noises, the booming ear-splitting thunder from big guns not far distant punctuated by the rattle-tat-tat and z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z of small arms. The road was plain to see now, but Ben turned for instructions before proceeding. “General, sir, seems like we’re headin’ square into that celebration.... Do we go on?”

“What do you think, young man?” the General demanded of the guide. “Where are we and is the road safely distant all the way?”

“Safe as anywhere,” replied the guide. “That probably isn’t much of anything, anyway, but the advance going up another hitch.... And even if it’s a boche movement, their fire wouldn’t reach this road: our artillery will push them back in a jiffy if they’re too close for comfort.... It’s just as safe here as anywhere around this section.”

“All right, Sergeant. Go on.”

But a few moments later, after the bursting of shells and flare of explosions had become suddenly closer, the Captain said, “This looks more like a counterattack to me!... It’s coming this way or I’m a fool!”

“Sounds rather interesting,” observed the General, peering out into the spasmodic darkness. “Seems to be a general movement for miles around.... Also getting more intense.”

Then we heard a different kind of noise, a whirring, droning, singing, mechanical music, that aroused the guide to observe, “An airplane buzzing up there somewhere, too.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it didn’t bother him at all, but I suspected that his leathery nervelessness was only an affectation, a pose for the benefit of us tenderfeet from the rear who had never seen any action before. He had told us that he had been in this sector for months, and I imagine it did his heart good to feel that these other men were suffering as he had once suffered himself. “Those airmen aren’t much good any more, anyway,” he added. “They never do any damage around here.”

But even as he finished speaking, Ben jammed on the brakes so hard that we all plunged forward out of the seats. “Godamighty!” declared the big boy. “A piece o’ somethin’ went right by us!”

He started forward again, but hadn’t shifted into high before the road in front erupted into a giant geyser of mud and stones and darts of flame. “Holy knock-kneed bishop!” Ben exclaimed, jamming on the brakes again and coming to a stop within a few yards of the new formed crater. “This is war sure ’nough!... Go on, General?”

The General peered out and around again. “Apparently we’re in the middle of things here. It’s as bad back there as it is up ahead.”

“Sure,” said the guide. “Drive right around that hole and we’ll probably duck right through it all without a scratch.... We can’t go back now.”

“All right,” said Ben, and he proceeded to navigate the tour around the hole. “Gad, but that was a whopper, huh?... Leony, ya better put yer prayin’ cap on.”

We went slowly on, Ben swerving unconsciously here and there as the bursting of shells struck on his nerves. The General was studying the surroundings from one side of the car and Chilblaines peered silently from the other. I could only sit stiff and rigid, waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly Ben began to chuckle.

“What’s the joke?” inquired the guide.

“Leony,” said Ben, ignoring the guide’s question. “Remember that song they used to sing in Paris?” He began to mumble:

“That damn thing keeps running through my mind all the time!” he told us. “Every step I take, every move I make—it’s ‘sacre nom de nom de nom, the mademoiselle she couldn’t come.’ ’Nough to give a guy the willies!”

“Did you ever hear the one about the Spanish Gentilio?” asked the guide.

But before he could sing it, the car was shaken by a tremendous boom that came from an explosion so near it rocked the earth. We came to a sudden groaning stop, with the left front corner of the car apparently in a hole.

“What happened then?” demanded the General.

Ben got out and investigated. “Musta hit somethin’, General, sir. That wheel’s busted all to hell!”

“Can’t we go on?”

“’Fraid not, sir; it’s ruined.” Ben turned and stared in the direction of Germany. “The g—— d—— Dutch b——! Probably just waitin’ fer a General to appear on this road!”

“No,” said the guide, “I’d bet a dollar to a doughnut that the Dutch are acting on some misinformation.... I’ll bet they think there’s reËnforcements or supplies comin’ up this road to-night.... That’s the dope exactly!”

“Why didn’t you say something about it sooner?” demanded the General irritably.

“Yeh!” Ben bawls at him. “This is a fine g—— d—— place fer us to be if them Dutch c—— s—— are gonna shell hell outa this road the rest o’ the night!... A hell of a lot of help you been to us, guy! We oughta put you up in front of a couple speedy bullets, just to teach ya a lesson.”

“How the hell did I know what those birds were planning to do?” retorted the guide. “I haven’t any way of knowin’ what those Deutschers think is goin’ on this road!”

“Shut up, you two!” commanded the big boss. “Where do we go from here, young man? Can you get us out of here without us getting killed?”

“Sure,” the pill-roller replied. “We can take the next road to the left and get back toward where we came from.”

“Road!” exclaimed Chilblaines. “We don’t want to get on any more roads! Look at the one we’re on!”

“Yeh—that’s this road,” explained our guide. “But the other road is probably nice and quiet. You see, this is a loop road, the main thoroughfare through this section, feeds the forward stations from both sides.”

“How far are we from the bend?” asked the General. “And does this other road turn off before we get there?”

“We’re almost there now,” replied the other. “There’s a lot of paraphernalia up there and a regimental headquarters and aid station. Now this other road turns off just before we get there and runs off to the left for about a mile and then turns south again.”

“Well, let’s go somewhere,” said the old man. “We can’t do ourselves or anyone else any good by staying here.... And it’s starting to rain, too!”

So we set off, the rain coming down in a cold drizzle that served to make more colorful the flaring illumination, but in the intervals it rendered the darkness more opaque. Shells were bursting along the road with increasing frequency, and now and then one came very close to us. The heavens above were full of sounds of guns and planes. Between the flashes of the flares you couldn’t see your hand before you. The going was exceedingly difficult, through fields and paths of deserted farms that had recently been peopled by shells and soldiers.

It seemed that the further we went, the more active things became. Shrapnel bursts came perilously near and in the darkness between the flares we stumbled into holes and picked ourselves up from muddy sprawls. Ben cursed the boches and the guide continuously, but the rest of us had enough to do to keep on our feet as much as possible.

At last we came to the road and the guide said “Here we are!” as if he had done something heroic in leading us there.

The General looked around and pondered. “How far are we from that regimental headquarters now?” he asked, wiping the water from his face.

“Oh—not much of a walk,” answered the guide. “But I’ll bet it’s hotter’n hell out there right now.”

“Which way is it?”

“Straight along the main road there.”

The old man again looked down the two roads. Then he turned to the guide and said, “Young man, you are free to take that side road if you want to. So also are the rest of you men. But I’m going to keep on until I come to that regimental station. I’d rather take a chance of getting hit where there’s a crowd than out on some dark cowpath that’s blooming with shrapnel.”

The pill-roller hesitated a moment, then said, “All right, sir. I would rather take the side road, but you can find the station without me easy enough.”

“Any of you men want to go that way?” He looked inquiringly at his wet and sorry looking retinue.

“I’ll stick with you, General, sir, if ya don’t mind,” Ben piped up. “I’d rather get killed with a General than get drunk with a guy like that pill-roller.... And I’m sure Esky prefers to stick with you, General.”

“Here, too,” I said, and Chilblaines, who must have wanted to go with the guide, found himself plodding along behind the gray-haired old-timer. A queer outfit to be turned loosed in a place like that: four tenderfeet and a scared pup, plowing along in mud that sometimes came up to your knees!

We had not gone very far before it became apparent that the pill-roller was right about the heat of the fray increasing toward the station. The air was full of flying bits of metal, rocks, dirt, gases, and blinding flashes of light. The rain dropped on us and was not noticed in the excitement of picking our way along a few yards at a time. Injury and possible death scraped us close at almost every step.

Yet we probably would have succeeded in reaching the station in safety, if we hadn’t become separated as the result of a series of shells bursting so near that we had to scatter, and we scattered so wide that we couldn’t get together again because of the shells dropping between us.

I found myself with the General and we figured Chilblaines, Ben and Esky must be about two hundred yards across from us, toward the main road again.

I found out later that Ben was yelling my name at the top of his voice, but I never heard him at all, and after we waited several minutes in a vain hope of rejoining them, we finally set off toward the station with the idea that they had probably gone on also.... We stumbled on and on, but it was a long time before we reached that station, and by that time, Ben and his party had been there and gone again.

We very quickly learned the exact nature of the situation: this station was the apex of a triangle, the connecting point in the rear of two wide-flung flanks. So far the enemy fire had been missing the station because it was concentrated on the front and rear, particularly the rear, to prevent any reËnforcements or assistance from coming up. The whole business was a useless, promiseless dogfight that had done nothing but stir up a lot of trouble, although the left flank of the American position had been forced back some little distance. Officers in the station told us we were lucky to come through that shelling alive.

And they also told us about Ben and Chilblaines and Esky. It seems that they managed to go straight through to the station, where they promptly inquired about us. But none had seen us, so Ben set off again with Esky at his heels in an effort to find us.... A little later he came back lugging a smallish figure, which he planked on a cot and talked to for a few minutes. Then he found Chilblaines and said, “Captain, you gotta come along! The General’s out there an’ Leony’s out there an’ I can’t carry them both, if they’re hurt!”

But Chilblaines refused to budge.

“Captain,” cried Ben, so loud that everyone in the place heard him, “are ya comin’ or do I have to drag ya?”

“Since when do we take orders from you, Garlotz?” demanded the Captain, with a sneer.

“Yere beginnin’ right now, you yella bellied stick!” And Ben seized his arm and gave it such a wrench that the officer had to follow. “Now, ya come along er I’ll brain ya!”

It was just after their departure that we showed up and heard the news of them. The General fumed and fretted and talked of going out after them, but before we could get anyone who knew the section to go with us, Chilblaines came running in, one cheek bloody and an eye starting to swell shut. He rushed up to the General and cried out, “Garlotz has gone mad! Stark staring mad!... We were out there looking for you ... he rushed at me and tried to choke me to death!”

“Where is he?” demanded the old man.

“Out there ... he collapsed or I’d be dead now.”

“Dammit, man!” exclaimed the General, shaking him roughly. “He must be found! Where were you when this happened?”

But Chilblaines could only tell us in a general way where he had been. The General grabbed the first stretcher-bearer that passed and we started off, but when we had gone a few steps, I turned to him and said, “You don’t need to come, sir. We can find him.”

Before he could answer, something touched his hand and he looked down to find Esky there, looking up at us with worried eyes and without wagging his tail.

“You’d better not come, sir,” said the man with the stretcher. “We’ll follow the dog.”

So the General went back, and we went on, letting Esky’s trotting lead show us the way.

We found him about a quarter of a mile away. He was unconscious when we picked him up, and we hurried as fast as we could in getting him back.

The General had a cot waiting for him and instead of sending for an attendant he rushed off himself to get one.... Ben opened his eyes and stared at me. “Leony, damn yer soul!... Where ya been?... I hunted all over hell fer ya.”

The General and the attendant came up then and Ben groaned from the man’s rough examination of his back. But he continued to talk to me.

“I had a fight, too, Leony,” he said, mumbling some of the words indistinctly. “Did ya hear about that yella skunk hittin’ me in the back with a rock when I wasn’t watchin’ him?... The dirty yella bum!... Ya should ’a’ seen it, Leony!... I just whaled hell outa him ... then I got dizzy.”

“You weren’t hit by a rock, big boy,” the pill-roller said, with a laugh. “You’ve got a piece of shrapnel the size of your fist in your back.”

“Huh?” Ben’s eyes opened in wonder and disbelief. “Felt like a rock when it hit.”

His breath was coming in short gasps now. His face was a dirty white, the rough texture of his skin standing out like the contour lines on a topographic map.

“Chilblaines didn’t hit me?” he asked after a moment.

I told him, “No—a piece of shrapnel. Now lie still and take it easy. You should have stayed in here instead of wandering around all over France.”

“How’d I know ... you were ... safe?” he mumbled. “The Captain tole me to take care of ya.... Say....” He glanced up to see if the General had gone. “I found yer twin brother out there, too... Leony ... dog-gone ya ... why in hell didn’t ya ... tell me the secret before?...”

“Be quiet, Ben,” I told him, wondering about Leon and about what the General might hear.

But a surgeon came then, and a nurse. They examined him again, tried various things, shook their heads and tried other things ... something else ... a shot in the arm when Ben began to moan....

He began to talk again, rambling from one thing to another, his speech a mumbling almost unintelligible, although I could understand the trend of it. “All that fight for nothin’ ... I’d ’ve killed Chilblaines ... like to get hold o’ the Dutchman that sent that shell over ... God, I’d like to fight somebody ... just fight ... fight.... Gonna fight again when I get back home, Leony....”

The attendant heard this last and said, with a funny smile on his face, “Big boy, there won’t be any fightin’ where you’re goin’.” And he turned on his heel and went away, the General following him and demanding that something be done.

“What’d he say, Leony?” Ben asked, and, because I couldn’t answer him, I dropped down to my knees and buried my face in his arm. I couldn’t keep from crying, but I guess Ben was the only one who heard the sobs and knew that I was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

He tried to lift his hand to pat my shoulder, but he couldn’t. “Leony...” he mumbled. “Damn yer soul ... don’t do that!... Don’t do it, I tell ya! Yer brother said you was a girl ... now I know it.... Don’t do that!... Ya’d be a damned good soljer if ya didn’t cry, Leony.... Don’t do it, Leony!... I can hear yer heartbeats.... Member that song.... SacrÉ nom de nom de nom ... just like heartbeats, Leony.... O-o-oh ... don’t ... don’t do that....” He gave a gasp. I felt his muscles twitch. “Funny damned thing ... Leony ... I’ll tell ya bout it ... later ... Leony ... the lights ... the lights ... Leony! ... the lights ... they’re goin’ out ... O-o-o-o-h, God!” A gasp like a great sigh of relief. The arm against my head dropped away.... And Big Ben had gone west.

I drew back and stared dumbly at him. The attendant came back, looked closer, felt the pulse, the heart, pulled the blanket over the strong homely face. I stumbled away, passed the General without a word, and went out into the rainy night. I thought I should burst into tears and I wanted to find a secluded dark corner that would let me cry fearlessly. But when I found a place, my grief-ridden eyes stared up into the flashing sky, and no tears came. If I could have died that moment, I would have been happy. Esky came to me and snuggled under my arms. He knew what had happened, and Ben had been a good friend to him.

My mind was dazed, my senses numbed by this awful unexpected, unnecessary loss. I could not weep, nor could I speak with any degree of certainty that what I tried to say would be said, but I finally went back into the hut, where the General met me.

I tried to say something. My lips must have quivered, for the General put his arm around my shoulders and I heard him telling me, “I know how you feel, boy.... Terrible to lose your best friend like that ... terrible!... Did he have any folks, do you know?”

I shook my head. Ben had told me once that he didn’t have anyone who cared whether he lived or died.

“But surely there must be someone somewhere in this world to mourn for a man who would do a thing like that!” argued the General. “Why, he went out there to get us, Sergeant!”

“I’ll miss him,” I managed to say, my lips trembling.

“So will we all, Sergeant.... I’m sorry ... very sorry!” And he walked away from me. I knew what he meant: it was his curiosity that took us up there, that cost us Ben’s life. I knew what he meant, and I knew he meant it when he said he was sorry. I knew by the way he talked and acted that he was really damned sorry. That’s what made it worse: a man like the General feeling that he was responsible for a fellow’s death! If it were some officer you could swear at and hate for it, you could get rid of your pent-up feelings by swearing at him and hating him. But, God—you couldn’t hate a man like the General.... Ben wasn’t here—that’s all there was to it—and nobody was to blame for a thing like that. All you could do was feel terrible and keep it to yourself.

After a while, when I had calmed down a little, I went in search of my brother and found him resting comfortably in an adjoining shed. He was very weak and couldn’t talk much. He had lost a lot of blood, but the wound was only a leg wound and would heal all right in time. I asked him how he happened to be out there and learned that he had been on his way back to the Evacuation Hospital to get medical supplies for the aid station, was forced to abandon the road and his motorcycle, got lost in the darkness and walked into a piece of shrapnel.

I told him about Ben and that the General might get a medal for him. “Good!” he exclaimed weakly. “He was a brick. But you’d never take him for a hero.”

“I guess heroes are born, not made,” I said. “They only show up by accident, when heroism is least expected of them or anyone else.”

I couldn’t talk to him any more. I told him to get in touch with me after he landed in a base hospital. He promised he would. I went outside again; Esky and I sat there watching the fireworks.... After a while they ceased.... Ambulances appeared.... The General called me and we piled into a car.... And all I could hear was that “SacrÉ nom de nom de nom ... de nom de nom de nom de nom....” Every sound, every noise, every movement, sang it over and over as if all the things about me were determined to imprint it indelibly upon my consciousness and my memory.

Perhaps it was lucky for us that we got out that night, for the next morning at 5:30 the American and French artillery began to lay down a barrage to cover the advance of troops all along the line. The Germans counterattacked in spots to cover their retreat. The battle was on to what looked like the end, for two days had seen the steady retreat of the Germans and the capture of enormous quantities of men and supplies.

We got our car back, with a new wheel, and a new driver. We stopped at St. Mihiel and then at Bar-le-Duc. Next day we’d go on to Toul.

I could hardly think. My brain was in a dizzy whirl. I wished my Captain were there. I wanted so much to talk to someone—anyone that could understand.... I missed Ben so damned much. I didn’t know anything about death. What is it? Can it be that a man dies and that is the end of him? I didn’t believe it. There is such a thing as immortality. Ben was dead, but he lived on in my memory, he’d never be really dead to me. I even caught myself looking around sometimes, expecting to see him standing there at my shoulder, swearing his beautiful profanity, dreaming of unconquered women and unvisited cafÉs, offering to give you the shirt from his back if you needed it. A real honest-to-God man like that could not be gone forever: I think he’ll always be with me. The best part of him will always live in my memory: and if the best part of you means your soul, then it’s true that the soul never dies.

At Nancy we heard that the Rainbow Division had occupied Sedan and the Germans were suing for peace.

A letter from Clark caught up with me here. He had been promoted. It was Major Clark Winstead now. But he was worried lest he be sent away on some mission of some kind that would keep us from meeting again over here.... That would be the last straw. Leon in the hospital and Clark away off somewhere, and Ben not here to stick by me.... I was sick of it all: just sick and discouraged and homesick and lovesick and just sick. And I couldn’t get rid of that crazy tune Ben used to sing: SacrÉ nom de nom de nom. I couldn’t walk around the block without my head ringing from it. It had a rhythm that wouldn’t be stilled.