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 Contents vii

In Depth: Two Views of Informed Consent 201 readings 259

Legal Brief: Important Informed Consent The Nuremberg Code 259
Cases 202 Declaration of Helsinki: Ethical Principles for
Applying Major Theories 203 Medical Research Involving Human Subjects,
Classic Case File: Jerry Canterbury 204 World Medical Association 260
Key Terms 205 “The Belmont Report,” The National
Summary 205 Commission for the Protection of
Cases for Evaluation 206 Human Subjects of Biomedical and
Further Reading 208 Behavioral Research 263
Notes 208 “Final Report: Human Radiation Experiments,”
Advisory Committee on Human Radiation
readings 208
Experiments 266
“The Concept of Informed Consent,”
“Of Mice but Not Men: Problems of the
Ruth R. Faden and Tom L. Beauchamp 208
Randomized Clinical Trial,” Samuel Hellman
“Informed Consent—Must It Remain a Fairy
and Deborah S. Hellman 272
Tale?” Jay Katz 213
“A Response to a Purported Ethical Difficulty
“Transparency: Informed Consent in Primary
with Randomized Clinical Trials Involving
Care,” Howard Brody 223
Cancer Patients,” Benjamin Freedman 278
“Informed Consent: Some Challenges to the
“How to Resolve an Ethical Dilemma
Universal Validity of the Western Model,”
Concerning Randomized Clinical Trials,”
Robert J. Levine 229
Don Marquis 282
Canterbury v. Spence, United States Court of
“Racism and Research: The Case of the Tuskegee
Appeals 235
Syphilis Study,” Allan M. Brandt 285
“The Ethics of Clinical Research in the Third
Chapter 6
World,” Marcia Angell 297
human research 239 “Ethical Issues in Clinical Trials in Developing
The Science of Clinical Trials 240 Countries,” Baruch Brody 301
In Depth: The Tuskegee Tragedy 241
Beneficence, Science, and Placebos 242 Part 3. ​Life and Death
Science and Informed Consent 245
Chapter 7
In Depth: Women in Clinical
Trials 246 abortion 309
Research on the Vulnerable 247 Starting Point: The Basics 309
In Depth: Why Enter a Clinical Trial? 248 Fact File: U.S. Abortions 310
Applying Major Theories 251 In Depth: Abortion and Public
Key Terms 252 Opinion 312
Summary 252 The Legal Struggle 313
Classic Case File: The UCLA Schizophrenia In Depth: Late-Term Abortion 314
Study 253 Persons and Rights 314
Cases for Evaluation 254 In Depth: Does a Fetus Feel Pain? 317
Further Reading 258 Applying Major Theories 319
Notes 258 Key Terms 320

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 viii Contents

Summary 320 Classic Case File: Baby M 424

Classic Case File: Nancy Klein 321 Cases for Evaluation 425
Cases for Evaluation 322 Further Reading 427
Further Reading 324 Notes 428
Notes 325
readings 429
readings 326 “IVF: The Simple Case,” Peter Singer 429
“A Defense of Abortion,” Judith Jarvis “IVF and Women’s Interests: An Analysis
Thomson 326 of Feminist Concerns,” Mary Anne
“Why Abortion Is Immoral,” Don Marquis 336 Warren 433
“An Almost Absolute Value in History,” “‘Give Me Children or I Shall Die!’ New
John T. Noonan, Jr. 348 Reproductive Technologies and Harm to
“On the Moral and Legal Status of Abortion,” Children,” Cynthia B. Cohen 445
Mary Anne Warren 352 “Instruction on Respect for Human Life in Its
“Virtue Theory and Abortion,” Rosalind Origin and on the Dignity of Procreation,”
Hursthouse 363 Congregation for the Doctrine of the
“Abortion and the Concept of a Person,” Faith 456
Jane English 377 “The Presumptive Primacy of Procreative
“Abortion,” Margaret Olivia Little 383 Liberty,” John A. Robertson 466
“Abortion Through a Feminist Ethics Lens,” “Surrogate Mothering: Exploitation or
Susan Sherwin 388 Empowerment?” Laura M. Purdy 473
Roe v. Wade, United States Supreme Court 397 “Is Women’s Labor a Commodity?” Elizabeth S.
Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Anderson 483
Pennsylvania v. Casey, United States Supreme “Egg Donation and Commodification,” Bonnie
Court 402 Steinbock 495
“The Wisdom of Repugnance,” Leon R. Kass 504
Chapter 8 “Cloning Human Beings: An Assessment
of the Ethical Issues Pro and Con,”
reproductive technology 409
Dan W. Brock 520
In Vitro Fertilization 409 Opinion in the Matter of Baby M, New Jersey
Fact File: Assisted Reproduction 410 Supreme Court 531
Surrogacy 415
In Depth: IVF and Children’s Future Chapter 9
Children 416
Cloning 417 genetic choices 539
In Depth: Cloning Time Line 420 Genes and Genomes 539
Applying Major Theories 421 Genetic Testing 540
In Depth: Sherri Shepherd: How Surrogacy In Depth: Direct-to-Consumer Genetic Tests 543
Can Go Wrong 422 Gene Therapy 547
Key Terms 423 Fact File: Available Genetic Tests for
Summary 423 Cancer Risk 548

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 Contents ix

Fact File: Recent Research in Gene Therapy 551 Chapter 10

Stem Cells 552 euthanasia and physician-assisted
Applying Major Theories 554 suicide 625
Classic Case File: The Kingsburys 555
Deciding Life and Death 626
Key Terms 556
Legal Brief: Euthanasia and Assisted Suicide:
Summary 556 Major Developments 628
Cases for Evaluation 557 In Depth: Euthanasia and Physician-Assisted
Further Reading 559 Suicide: What Do Doctors
Notes 560 Think? 629
Autonomy, Mercy, and Harm 630
readings 560 In Depth: Oregon’s Death With Dignity Act 632
“Implications of Prenatal Diagnosis for the Applying Major Theories 634
Human Right to Life,” Leon R. Kass 560 In Depth: Physician-Assisted Suicide and Public
Opinion 635
“Genetics and Reproductive Risk: Can
Classic Case File: Nancy Cruzan 636
Having Children Be Immoral?”
Key Terms 637
Laura M. Purdy 564
Summary 637
“The Morality of Screening for Disability,”
Cases for Evaluation 638
Jeff McMahan 571
Further Reading 640
“Genetic Dilemmas and the Child’s Right to an
Notes 641
Open Future,” Dena S. Davis 575
“Disowning Knowledge: Issues in Genetic readings 642
Testing,” Robert Wachbroit 585 “Death and Dignity: A Case of Individualized
“The Non-Identity Problem and Genetic Decision Making,” Timothy E. Quill 642
Harms—The Case of Wrongful Handicaps,” “Voluntary Active Euthanasia,” Dan W. Brock 646
Dan W. Brock 589 “When Self-Determination Runs Amok,”
“Is Gene Therapy a Form of Eugenics?” Daniel Callahan 658
John Harris 593 “Physician-Assisted Suicide: A Tragic View,”
“Genetic Enhancement,” Walter Glannon 599 John D. Arras 663
“Genetic Interventions and the Ethics of “Active and Passive Euthanasia,” James
Enhancement of Human Beings,” Julian Rachels 678
Savulescu 604 “Dying at the Right Time: Reflections on
“Germ-Line Gene Therapy,” LeRoy Walters and (Un)Assisted Suicide,” John Hardwig 682
Julie Gage Palmer 613 “The Philosophers’ Brief,” Ronald Dworkin, Thomas
“What Does ‘Respect for Embryos’ Mean Nagel, Robert Nozick, John Rawls, Thomas
in the Context of Stem Cell Research?” Scanlon, and Judith Jarvis Thomson 693
Bonnie Steinbock 620 “An Alternative to Brain Death,” Jeff
Declaration on the Production and the McMahan 701
Scientific and Therapeutic Use of Human Vacco v. Quill, United States Supreme Court 707
Embryonic Stem Cells, Pontifical Academy Washington v. Glucksberg, United States
for Life 623 Supreme Court 710

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 x Contents

Part 4. ​Justice and Health Care readings 736

“Is There a Right to Health Care and, if So, What
Chapter 11
Does It Encompass?” Norman Daniels 736
dividing up health care “The Right to a Decent Minimum of Health
resources 719 Care,” Allen E. Buchanan 743
Health Care in Trouble 719 “Rights to Health Care, Social Justice, and Fairness
In Depth: Unequal Health Care for in Health Care Allocations: Frustrations in the
Minorities 721 Face of Finitude,” H. Tristram Engelhardt, Jr. 749
Fact File: U.S. Health Care 722 “Health Care Reform: Lessons from Canada,”
Theories of Justice 723 Raisa Berlin Deber 757
In Depth: Public Opinion: Obtaining “The Allocation of Exotic Medical Lifesaving
Adequate Health Care 724
Therapy,” Nicholas Rescher 765
A Right to Health Care 725
“QALYfying the Value of Life,” John Harris 774
In Depth: Public Health and Bioethics 727
“Public Health Ethics: Mapping the Terrain,”
The Ethics of Rationing 727
James F. Childress et al. 782
Classic Case File: Christine deMeurers 730
“Human Rights Approach to Public Health
Key Terms 731
Policy,” D. Tarantola and S. Gruskin 793
Summary 731
Cases for Evaluation 732 Appendix 805
Further Reading 735 Glossary 807
Notes 735 Index 809

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 P R E FAC E

A revision of a new textbook is supposed to main- filling out the discussions with background on the
tain the best of the old, judiciously enhance where latest medical, legal, and social developments. The
possible, and prudently add where needed (without main issues include paternalism and patient auton-
raising the price). This third edition of Bioethics omy, truth-telling, confidentiality, informed consent,
does just that. Over the years, the text has been research ethics, clinical trials, abortion, assisted re-
judged by numerous teachers to be exactly suitable production, surrogacy, cloning, genetic testing, gene
to their teaching approach, and the aim of this new therapy, stem cells, euthanasia, physician-assisted
edition is to keep it that way. suicide, and the just allocation of health care.
Bioethics provides in-depth discussions of the Every issues chapter contains seven to ten read-
philosophical, medical, scientific, social, and legal ings, with each selection prefaced by a brief summary.
aspects of controversial bioethical issues and The articles—old standards as well as new ones—
combines this material with a varied collection of reflect the major arguments and latest thinking in
thought-provoking readings. But on this foundation each debate. They present a diversity of perspectives
are laid elements that other texts sometimes forgo: on each topic, with pro and con positions well rep-
resented. In most cases, the relevant court rulings
1. An extensive introduction to ethics, bioethics,
are also included.
moral principles, critical thinking, and moral
reasoning
2. Full coverage of influential moral theories, special features
including criteria and guidelines for evaluat- A two-chapter introduction to bioethics, moral
ing them (the focus is on utilitarianism, reasoning, moral theories, and critical thinking.
­Kantian ethics, natural law theory, Rawls’ These chapters are designed not only to introduce
contract theory, virtue ethics, the ethics of the subject matter of bioethics but also to add co-
care, and feminist ethics) herence to subsequent chapter material and to
3. Detailed examinations of the classic cases provide the student with a framework for thinking
that have helped shape debate in major issues critically about issues and cases. Chapter 1 is an in-
4. Collections of current, news-making cases for troduction to basic ethical concepts, the field of
evaluation bioethics, moral principles and judgments, moral
5. Many pedagogical features to engage students reasoning and arguments, the challenges of rela-
and reinforce lessons in the main text tivism, and the relationship between ethics and
6. Writing that strives hard for clarity and con- both religion and the law. Chapter 2 explores moral
cision to convey both the excitement and theory, shows how theories relate to moral princi-
complexity of issues without sacrificing ples and judgments, examines influential theories
accuracy (including virtue ethics, the ethics of care, and
feminist ethics), and demonstrates how they can be
topics and readings applied to moral problems. It also explains how to
Nine chapters cover many of the most controversial evaluate moral theories using plausible criteria of
issues in bioethics, detailing the main arguments and adequacy.

xi

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 xii Preface

Helpful chapter elements. Each issues chapter new to this edition

contains:
Eleven new readings
1. Analyses of the most important arguments • Shelly K. Schwartz, “Is It Ever OK to Lie
offered by the various parties to the debate. to Patients?”
They reinforce and illustrate the lessons on • Susan Wolf, “Moral Saints”
moral reasoning in Chapter 1. • “Patient Autonomy and Physician Responsi-
2. A section called “Applying Major Theories” bility,” with ­commentaries by Patrick C.
showing how the moral theories can be Beeman and Ryan C. VanWoerkom
­applied to the issues. It ties the discussions • Rosalind Hursthouse, “Virtue Theory and
of moral theories in Chapter 2 to the moral Abortion”
problems and illustrates the theories’ • Margaret Olivia Little, “Abortion”
relevance. • Bonnie Steinbock, “Egg Donation and
3. A section labeled “Classic Case File” that Commodification”
­examines in detail a famous bioethics case. • Julian Savulescu, “Genetic Interventions and
The stories covered in these sections include the Ethics of Enhancement of Human Beings”
those of Elizabeth Bouvia, Jerry Canterbury, • John Hardwig, “Dying at the Right Time:
Nancy Klein, Baby M, Nancy Cruzan, the ­Reflections on (Un)Assisted Suicide”
Kingsburys, Christine deMeurers, and the • Jeff McMahan, “An Alternative to
UCLA Schizophrenia Study. These are in Brain Death”
­addition to many other controversial cases • James F. Childress et al., “Public Health
covered elsewhere in the book—for example, Ethics: Mapping the Terrain”
the Terri Schiavo controversy, the Tuskegee • D. Tarantola and S. Gruskin, “Human Rights
tragedy, the Willowbrook experiments, Approach to Public Health Policy”
and the U.S. government’s human radiation New Topics
studies. • Physician autonomy
4. A bank of “Cases for Evaluation” at the end • Truth-telling and cultural diversity
of each chapter. These are recent news stories • Decision-making capacity
followed by discussion questions. They give • Public health and bioethics
students the chance to test their moral • Surrogacy: The Sherri Shepherd case
­reasoning on challenging new scenarios that • Fetal pain
range across a broad spectrum of current • Casuistry
topics. Clarifications and Further Discussions
Topics: Religion and ethics, autonomy and con-
A diverse package of pedagogical aids. Each
sent, moral principles, human rights and
issues chapter contains a chapter summary, sugges-
health, enhancement, cultural issues, direct-
tions for further reading, and a variety of text boxes.
to-consumer genetic tests, and gene therapy
The boxes are mainly of three types:
Updates
1. “In Depth”—additional information, illustra- Updated further reading, opinion surveys,
tions, or analyses of matters touched on in ­statistics, and legal developments
the main text.
2. “Fact File”—statistics on the social, medical, ancillaries
and scientific aspects of the chapter’s topic. The Oxford University Press Ancillary Resource
3. “Legal Brief”—summaries of important Center (ARC) at www.oup-arc.com/vaughn-
court rulings or updates on the status of bioethics-3e houses an Instructor’s Manual with
legislation. Test Bank and PowerPoint Lecture Outlines for

00-Vaughn-FM.indd 12 26/05/16 6:33 PM

 Preface xiii

instructor use. Student resources are available on Devin Frank, University of Missouri–Columbia
the companion website at www.oup.com/us/vaughn Kathryn M. Ganske, Shenandoah University
and include self-quizzes, flashcards, and helpful Martin Gunderson, Macalester College
web links. Helen Habermann, University of Arizona
Stephen Hanson, University of Louisville
Karey Harwood, North Carolina State
acknowledgments
University
This edition of the text is measurably better than
Sheila R. Hollander, University of Memphis
the first thanks to the good people at Oxford Uni-
Scott James, University of North Carolina,
versity Press—especially my editor Robert Miller
Wilmington
and assistant editor Alyssa Palazzo—and many
James Joiner, Northern Arizona University
reviewers:
William P. Kabasenche, Washington State
Keith Abney, Polytechnic State University University
at San Luis Obispo Susan Levin, Smith College
Kim Amer, DePaul University Margaret Levvis, Central Connecticut State
Jami L. Anderson, University of Michigan University
Carol Isaacson Barash, Boston University Burden S. Lundgren, Old Dominion University
Deb Bennett-Woods, Regis University Joan McGregor, Arizona State University
Don Berkich, Texas A&M University Tristram McPherson, Virginia Tech
Stephan Blatti, University of Memphis Jonathan K. Miles, Bowling Green State
William Bondeson, University of Missouri, University
Columbia James Lindemann Nelson, Michigan State
Lori Brown, Eastern Michigan University University
David W. Concepción, Ball State University Thomas Nenon, University of Memphis
Catherine Coverston, Brigham Young Laura Newhart, Eastern Kentucky University
University Steve Odmark, Century College
Russell DiSilvestro, Assistant Professor, Assya Pascalev, Howard University
­California State University, Sacramento Viorel Pâslaru, University of Dayton
John Doris, Washington University in St. Louis David J. Paul, Western Michigan University
Denise Dudzinski, University of Washington Anthony Preus, Binghamton University
School of Medicine Susan M. Purviance, University of Toledo
Craig Duncan, Ithaca College Sara Schuman, Washtenaw Community College
Anne Edwards, Austin Peay State University David Schwan, Bowling Green State University
John Elia, University of Georgia M. Josephine Snider, University of Florida
Christy Flanagan-Feddon, Regis University Anita Silvers, San Francisco State University
Jacqueline Fox, University of South Carolina Gladys B. White, Georgetown University
School of Law Joseph Wellbank, Northeastern University
Leslie P. Francis, University of Utah David Yount, Mesa Community College

00-Vaughn-FM.indd 13 26/05/16 6:33 PM

00-Vaughn-FM.indd 14 26/05/16 6:33 PM
 Bioethics
Principles, Issues, and Cases

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 1
Principles and Theories

01-Vaughn-Chap01.indd 1 26/05/16 4:25 PM

01-Vaughn-Chap01.indd 2 26/05/16 4:25 PM
 CHAP TER 1

Moral Reasoning in Bioethics

Any serious and rewarding exploration of bio­ Second, it would be difficult to imagine moral
ethics is bound to be a challenging journey. issues more important—​more closely gathered
What makes the trip worthwhile? As you might around the line between life and death, health
expect, this entire text is a long answer to that and illness, pain and relief, hope and despair—​
question. You therefore may not fully appreciate than those addressed by bioethics. Whatever
the trek until you have already hiked far along our view of these questions, there is little doubt
the trail. The short answer comes in three parts. that they matter immensely. Whatever answers
First, bioethics—​like ethics, its parent disci­ we give will surely have weight, however they fall.
pline—​is about morality, and morality is about Third, as a systematic study of such ques­
life. Morality is part of the unavoidable, bitter­ tions, bioethics holds out the possibility of an­
sweet drama of being persons who think and feel swers. The answers may or may not be to our
and choose. Morality concerns beliefs regarding liking; they may confirm or confute our precon­
morally right and wrong actions and morally ceived notions; they may take us far or not far
good and bad persons or character. Whether we enough. But, as the following pages will show,
like it or not, we seem confronted continually the trail has more light than shadow—​ and
with the necessity to deliberate about right and thinking critically and carefully about the prob­
wrong, to judge someone morally good or bad, lems can help us see our way forward.
to agree or disagree with the moral pronounce­
ments of others, to accept or reject the moral ethics and bioethics
outlook of our culture or community, and
even to doubt or affirm the existence or nature Morality is about people’s moral judgments,
of moral concepts themselves. Moral issues are principles, rules, standards, and theories—​a ll of
thus inescapable—​including (or especially) those which help direct conduct, mark out moral prac­
that are the focus of bioethics. In the twenty-first tices, and provide the yardsticks for measuring
century, few can remain entirely untouched by moral worth. We use morality to refer gener­
the pressing moral questions of fair distribution ally to these aspects of our lives (as in “Morality
of health care resources, abortion and infanti­ is essential”) or more specifically to the beliefs
cide, euthanasia and assisted suicide, exploitative or practices of particular groups or persons (as
research on children and populations in devel­ in “American morality” or “Kant’s morality”).
oping countries, human cloning and genetic en­ Moral, of course, pertains to morality as just
gineering, assisted reproduction and surrogate ­defined, though it is also sometimes employed
parenting, prevention and treatment of HIV/ as a synonym for right or good, just as immoral
AIDS, the confidentiality and consent of patients, is often meant to be equivalent to wrong or bad.
the refusal of medical treatment on religious Ethics, as used in this text, is not synonymous with
grounds, experimentation on human embryos morality. Ethics is the study of morality using the
and fetuses, and the just allocation of scarce life- tools and methods of philosophy. Philosophy is
saving organs. a discipline that systematically examines life’s

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 4 PA R T 1: P R I N C I P L E S A N D T H E O R I E S

big questions through critical reasoning, logical some or all of these as proper guides for our ac­
argument, and careful reflection. Thus ethics—​ tions and judgments. In normative ethics, we
also known as moral philosophy—​is a reasoned ask questions like these: What moral principles,
way of delving into the meaning and import of if any, should inform our moral judgments?
moral concepts and issues and of evaluating the What role should virtues play in our lives? Is the
merits of moral judgments and standards. (As principle of autonomy justified? Are there any
with morality and moral, we may use ethics to exceptions to the moral principle of “do not
say such things as “Kant’s ethics” or may use kill”? How should we resolve conflicts between
ethical or unethical to mean right or wrong, moral norms? Is contractarianism a good moral
good or bad.) Ethics seeks to know whether an theory? Is utilitarianism a better theory?
action is right or wrong, what moral standards A branch that deals with much deeper ethical
should guide our conduct, whether moral prin­ issues is metaethics. Metaethics is the study of
ciples can be justified, what moral virtues are the meaning and justification of basic moral be­
worth cultivating and why, what ultimate ends liefs. In normative ethics we might ask whether
people should pursue in life, whether there are an action is right or whether a person is good,
good reasons for accepting a particular moral but in metaethics we would more likely ask what
theory, and what the meaning is of such notions it means for an action to be right or for a person
as right, wrong, good, and bad. Whenever we try to be good. For example, does right mean has the
to reason carefully about such things, we enter best consequences, or produces the most happi-
the realm of ethics: We do ethics. ness, or commanded by God? It is the business of
Science offers another way to study morality, metaethics to explore these and other equally
and we must carefully distinguish this approach fundamental questions: What, if anything, is
from that of moral philosophy. Descriptive the difference between moral and nonmoral be­
ethics is the study of morality using the meth­ liefs? Are there such things as moral facts? If so,
odology of science. Its purpose is to investigate what sort of things are they, and how can they
the empirical facts of morality—​the actual be­ be known? Can moral statements be true or
liefs, behaviors, and practices that constitute false—​or are they just expressions of emotions
people’s moral experience. Those who carry out or attitudes without any truth value? Can moral
these inquiries (usually anthropologists, sociol­ norms be justified or proven?
ogists, historians, and psychologists) want to The third main branch is applied ethics, the
know, among other things, what moral beliefs a use of moral norms and concepts to resolve
person or group has, what caused the subjects to practical moral issues. Here, the usual challenge
have them, and how the beliefs influence behav­ is to employ moral principles, theories, argu­
ior or social interaction. Very generally, the dif­ ments, or analyses to try to answer moral ques­
ference between ethics and descriptive ethics is tions that confront people every day. Many such
this: In ethics we ask, as Socrates did, How ought questions relate to a particular professional field
we to live? In descriptive ethics we ask, How do such as law, business, or journalism, so we have
we in fact live? specialized subfields of applied ethics like legal
Ethics is a big subject, so we should not be ethics, business ethics, and journalistic ethics.
surprised that it has three main branches, each Probably the largest and most energetic subfield
dealing with more or less separate but related is bioethics.
sets of ethical questions. Normative ethics is the Bioethics is applied ethics focused on health
search for, and justification of, moral standards, care, medical science, and medical technology.
or norms. Most often the standards are moral (Biomedical ethics is often used as a synonym,
principles, rules, virtues, and theories, and the and medical ethics is a related but narrower term
lofty aim of this branch is to establish rationally used most often to refer to ethical problems in

01-Vaughn-Chap01.indd 4 26/05/16 4:25 PM

Exploring the Variety of Random
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Suddenly a great cry rang out:
“The gas!”
It was true. Over there, from the enemy’s lines, came great greenish
balls, rolling close to the earth, rolling deliberately yet swiftly, rolling
straight toward us. Gas! That horrible thing, still almost unknown,
which had been used for the first time only recently on the Yser. It
was coming with deadly surety amidst a tornado of artillery. Orders
were shouted back and forth:
“The gas! Put on the masks!”
Each man spread over his face the protecting cloth. The shelters
were closed. The telephone, whose wires ran the length of the
communication-trenches, gave the warning: “Look out! The gas!”
We did not yet know what manner of horror it was. None of us had
experienced an attack of the sort. We ran to and fro like ants whose
hill has been molested. Some fired their guns at random, others
awaited orders. The frightful, livid thing came on, expanded to a
cloud, crept upon us, glided into the trenches. The air was quickly
obscured. We were swimming in an atmosphere stained a
venomous color, uncanny, indescribable. The sky appeared
greenish, the earth disappeared. The men staggered about for a
moment, took a gasping breath, and rolled on the ground, stifled.
There were some knots of soldiers who had been asleep in their
beds when overtaken by the gas. They writhed in convulsions, with
vitals burning, with froth on the lips, calling for their mothers or
cursing the German. We gathered them up as best we could; we
took them to the doctors, who, thus confronted by an unknown
condition, found themselves powerless. They tried the application of
oxygen and ether in an effort to save the lives of the victims, only to
see them die, already decomposed, in their hands.
The masks had not yet been perfected and were a poor protection.
Some ran about like madmen, shrieking in terror, the throat choked
with saliva, and fell in heaps, in contortions of agony. Some filled the
mouth with handfuls of grass and struggled against asphyxiation.
Others, down in the shelters, sprinkled face and neck with brackish
water, and awaited a death all too long in coming.[E] Over all this the
artillery shrieked in unchained madness. The sky was of steel,
quivering and molten. There were no longer any distinctly heard
shots, but a storm of fire. It roared, it whistled, it exploded without
respite, as if all the furies of hell were yelping, in a thick, metallic sky.
At the left, little by little, an ever-reddening glow showed the
neighboring city of Rheims, which the Boches were bombarding in a
mad rage of destruction. We saw the flames leap up, the houses
kindle like torches and throw toward the sky clouds of sparks and
streams of black and red smoke. Everything seemed flaming and
tottering and falling in a wild delirium. The earth itself opened to
swallow the last survivors. In the trenches the bodies of the dead
were heaped, and twisted or bleeding corpses choked the
passageways.
Fiercely, convulsively, desperately, the comrades who were unhurt
fought at their loopholes. Reinforcements came from the rear in
haste, and took their places. Their eyes were those of madmen, their
breath was panting.
“The assault will be here in a minute, boys,” I said to my nearest
neighbors. “Look out for yourselves. Have your cartridges ready.
You, there, lift your gun higher, or you will fire badly! And you, aim
toward that corner you see over there!”
Berthet helped me, with a tragic manner of responsibility; the
underofficers ran from one man to another crying: “Keep cool! We
will get them! Just let them come on!”
Then the action rushed on even more furiously, more demoniac. In
the midst of the increased cannonade the gun-fire rattled. It
commenced at the left, gained the centre, reached the right. The
whole line crackled like the beginning of a roll of thunder. We could
no longer see ahead of us. We fired as fast as possible, without
knowing where, cutting into space.
“Here they are! Keep cool!”
In the dim light a gray mass was oscillating. As it rapidly advanced,
we could distinguish small objects on the plain, like moving blades of
grass. We fired: cries could be heard. We fired more rapidly. The gas
was dissipating, but the night was becoming thick. Our only light was
the blazing city of Rheims and the glow of shells. The pandemonium
increased. One could distinguish only his immediate neighbor, lifting
his gun, firing, recoiling from the discharge, replacing the spent
cartridge with a full one. The pungent taste of burnt powder
penetrated the throat. We sweat. We no longer feared. We pulled the
trigger; we were fighting, we were defending the soil, the trench, the
sector, in a blind rage. They should not take it! They should give up;
they should fall back. We would kill them all rather than permit their
feet to contaminate the spot we were guarding.
This endured for more than an hour, this insane uproar of shrieking
voices, crashing cannon, cracking rifles; while Rheims, in flames
threw to the wind her streamers of light.
We had no accurate idea of the battle as a whole. Each man acted
for himself, for the little corner of ground in range of his rifle, for the
piece of trench which he was holding. At one side, the Boches
jumped into the trench, cut the throats of the nearest men, then fell,
themselves stabbed by bayonets. At another point they penetrated
the barbed-wire entanglements, remained caught there, struggling to
free themselves, and were cut to pieces by our fire. Farther on, our
shells crushed them. We were scarcely conscious of it. We elbowed
our neighbors, we exchanged encouragement, we shrieked when we
would speak. We were so intense, so full of fury, that many were
frothing when commanded to desist. The underofficers exhausted
themselves in crying halt, and had to shake each man to awaken
him, to bring him to himself, to make him understand. We felt
exasperated.
However, the cannonade was decreasing in violence. The gun-fire
ceased, reviving only at intervals. The stretcher-bearers ran up, took
away the wounded, picked up the tortured gas victims, whose lungs
creaked like the bellows of a forge. The battle was over. The Boches
were repulsed. In spite of their gas, in spite of the surprise, in spite of
their cannon, they left on the field before us almost a battalion:
sprawling corpses, dismembered like broken puppets; dead men
who gaped at the stars; wounded who soon were dead. Our losses
were considerable, theirs were much greater. Twenty of their number
remained with us as prisoners. Haggard and stunned, they were led
to the rear for the interrogatory.

“Well, how has it been?” I asked Berthet, as I gripped his hand. “It
was superb!” he responded. There was a hole in his coat. “Not
touched?” “No, a ball just missed taking me off.” He said it with a
calm which I admired. He concealed from me the fact that he had
breathed the abominable vapors.
After all, it was only a local action on our line. It was not, in the
generally accepted sense, a battle. All of us have seen much greater
since then. However, on account of the gas, this first engagement is
vividly present in our memory, a recollection never to be effaced. It
was an encounter so strange! That foul vapor which enveloped the
earth, which ate its way into the fibre of the clothing we wore,
corroded and withered the leaves on the trees, and changed the
aspect of God’s sane creation into a distorted image of hell, will
remain forever one of the deepest infamies of the Germans. After
contact with this poisoned cloud, nothing retained its original
appearance. The arms were red without being rusty, the color of
uniforms was changed. There were very few of our men suffering
from gun or bayonet wounds, but whole mounds of those who died in
convulsions: poor, twisted dead, who agonized in dying; so
disfigured their own mothers could not have recognized them. Some
of them were wringing their hands, others were swallowing stones,
others seemed to be rammed into the earth like stakes. This was not
war; it was worse. This was not the rain of bullets which pierce the
flesh, or break a skull in passing. This was not the brutal shell, which
bursts to fragments, scatters in a thousand directions and mows
down a group of men as gayly as a child knocks down a house of
cards. This was another matter. It was the very air turned accomplice
of the enemy; blinded eyes, frothing mouth, rotted lungs, a breast on
fire; every effort exerted redoubling the torture; the rescuer struck
down above the man he attempted to save; the officer suffering like
his men; the telephone-operator seized in his shelter, the courier
arrested in his course, all alike smothered and struggling with death.
This was a breath from the depths of hell, this diabolic invention,
which that monster, the German Junker, forced men to choose:
weapon of meanness and treachery, which sets at naught the valor
of both defender and assailant!
 VII
RHEIMS

WHEN the life fantastic becomes the life ordinary, when one is at the
centre of prodigious events which unroll more rapidly than the picture
on the screen, and appear in ever-new guise, the astonishing thing
becomes a natural thing; the unheard-of becomes the expected. A
distortion of sensation is produced; the brain registers only that
which surpasses the climax of what has already been experienced;
as on mountain heights, peaks which have been surmounted appear
low, and the climber feels that only those are high which are still
above him.
Thus it became the ordinary thing for Berthet and me, as for our
companions, to live in the extraordinary and the supernatural. We felt
quite at home in it, and moved at our ease in a situation which, for
him at least, would have been untenable a few short months before.
We had become soldiers like the others, eating, when we could, a
meagre and coarse ration; sleeping when it was possible; in constant
danger of death, but avoiding it apparently by instinct. We lived with
no more care than the beasts of the field; with beards long, hands
dirty. We dug in the earth, as did all the rest; we watched at the
parapets with eyes puffed from lack of sleep. Uncouthness grew
upon us, and we appeared, at dawn, in the glacial cold, muffled up in
pieces of cloth and skins of animals; hairy, hideous, and fearsome.
We were on patrol duty one night. Creeping about, we passed the
listening-post and advanced on No Man’s Land. Like savages, we
stalked the enemy for hours, trying to surprise some unknown men:
soldiers like ourselves, who might be lost between the lines; men
anxious like ourselves, and like ourselves afraid of death and
suffering. Then we returned, annoyed to come back without having
bagged a foe; regretful that we had not been able to spill some
man’s blood. However——
“However”—thus we reasoned.
Often, in the evening, when we were free between periods of sentry
duty, we would delay our share of heavy sleep wherein one forgot
all; when one lay stretched like a beast in a stable, on a little straw in
the depth of a retreat, poorly protected from the wind and the shells.
We would walk the hundred paces of the length of the
communication-trench, conversing.
The night enveloped us; the night palpitating with the noise of battle.
We could hear the crack of rifles and the roar of cannon. Sometimes
the flying steel whirled over our heads with its weird whistle. Some
corvées passed, heavily loaded, carrying materials for attack and
defense. Habituated as we were to the sight and sound, oblivious to
the familiar racket, we walked quite tranquilly, in spirit far removed
from our surroundings, expanding our thoughts and confiding our
dreams. All sorts of subjects shared our attention: art, history,
literature, politics, we touched upon them all, commented upon all as
if we had been a hundred leagues away from the war, as if no other
occupation had the least claim upon us. The contrast was so vivid,
the difference so striking, that sometimes we stopped and exclaimed
in amazement at ourselves.
By this time we had no childish vanity in the matter. Our sense of
pride was rather above it. We called no one’s attention to our calm
indifference. No! It was night, we were lost in the shadows, no one
could see us. We were simply relaxing our brains in withdrawing our
thought from the present; in leading it, by means of conversation,
toward the past and the future.
One particular desire which we held in common was frequently
mentioned: we wished to visit Rheims, which was quite near. Our
regiment formed a part of the troops of coverture of the city.
However, we could not enter the town without permission, and this
could not be obtained without good reason. We finally found an
excuse, and the rest was easy.
One morning, armed with our permit, we set out. The expedition was
not without danger. For several months, since we had occupied the
trenches at the north of the city, we had known that the Boches were
obstinately bent upon its destruction. Every day brought its rain of
shells. We could see the flames shoot up, we could see writhing
columns of smoke mount to the heavens. No matter; the visit
tempted us, and the most violent storm of iron and fire would not
have deterred us.
So we went. We prepared our minds, as we thought, for every
possible surprise; we were not prepared for what we were destined
to find. Approaching by the Faubourg Cires, we entered a ruin. We
saw nothing but demolished houses, entire streets swept by machine
fire, gnawed by flames, blackened by smoke. Tottering façades,
holding their equilibrium by a miracle, supported the skeletons of
apartment-buildings, in whose walls blackened shell-holes seemed
like dead eyes opened on a void. Heaps of plaster and stone fallen
from the walls rendered passage difficult and impeded our progress.
Occasionally, an entire section of wall would swing slowly, balance
for an instant, then fall in a cloud of dust. It was a house in its death-
throes.
After passing this scene of desolation, we entered a quarter still
intact, where, to our stupefaction, the city came to life again. There
only a few injuries to buildings were visible. Here and there a shell
had wounded a structure. The general appearance of everything was
quite peaceful. The inhabitants followed the usual routine of life with
apparent serenity. Open shops offered their merchandise. Young
girls came and went smiling. A pastry-cook spread out his tarts and
nougats; a stationer displayed his pencils and office supplies; a
haberdasher’s window was filled with collars and cravats. Nothing
indicated war. People went up and down about their business; old
women gossiped on their door-step, and peddlers cried their wares.
Around the Place Royale, which was absolutely in ruins, cabmen
awaited a fare, stroking the manes of their bony horses, or
discussing the price received for the last trip. In the public gardens
mothers watched their little ones at play, caressing them or scolding
them, as if their entire life were assured, as if no thought of anything
unusual entered their brain.
Was it bravery, indifference, habit? Who knows? We were
dumbfounded. What! In a city crushed by shells, tortured by fire,
subjected to the most barbarous treatment, how was it possible to be
so matter-of-fact? Could the life of the populace continue in its usual
channels, indifferent to danger, removed from fear, calm as in time of
peace?
We must look closer to perceive under the surface the explanation of
the anomaly; everywhere, people seated or standing observed a
patient discipline in using only one side of the street: the one
exposed to the direct shock of the shells. Only a city long exposed to
bombardment could conceive such a mechanical precaution. It is a
protection, because the shell, in falling, bursts; its splinters fly in the
opposite direction to that taken by the projectile.
We soon saw the working out of the principle. Attracted by an open
shop, we made some purchases at our leisure. A sinister shriek
crossed the sky, and a racket followed. “They are bombarding,”
calmly remarked the young woman who served us. She listened. “It
is at the cathedral.” Then she continued, most unconcernedly: “Let
us see! Some braid? It is at the other counter. You get the buttons
here, and the wool and the thread. Is that all you wish? That makes
a franc sixty.”
Another roar, this time nearer. The street was immediately deserted.
So quickly that a stranger could not observe the action, every
passer-by disappeared. Every one went underground, somewhere,
into an open cellar. It happened as naturally and quickly as in
ordinary times when people find shelter from a sudden shower. They
knew that the hour to seek cover had arrived. The shower of steel
would last until evening, and would not cease until a new quarter
was obliterated. It was the turn of one faubourg, therefore the others
would escape this time. Consequently, outside the zone attacked,
existence might continue as usual.
Already the rescue squads were running in the direction of the falling
shells, as resolute and well disciplined as when at drill. Duty called
them. They responded, “Present,” without fear or hesitation: down
there people were dying under the ruins of their homes. The
stretcher-bearers rescued the injured in the midst of the tumult. If
they had been praised for their heroism, they would have resented
the praise as an insult.
When recovered from our first astonishment, Berthet and I set out.
This martyred city, so tragic and so calm, seemed to us superhuman.
We found it beautiful. We felt a desire to weep, to cry out, as we
looked at its reddened walls, its yawning windows and wrecked
roofs. We went about gently, as one walks in a place of suffering and
sorrow. In our rather aimless wandering, reverent as in a sacred
place, we came suddenly in front of the cathedral.
It rose before us like a queen, at the turn of the street. The lofty
façade, stained by fire in shades of gold and blood, lifted its proud
head to the sky. The towers were like two arms stretched imploringly
toward heaven: one reddened by fire, the other clothed by the
centuries in the blue veil which shrouds ancient monuments.
Between them the shattered rose-window seemed to moan
distractedly: a silent sob. That dumb mouth in that fire-reddened face
seemed to cry with such hatred, with such anguish, that we stopped,
gripped by the sight.
It was there that the great Crime had written its name! There, where
France had inscribed the most sacred things of her history; there, by
the cradle of the nation, on the book always open, the assassin had
left his thumb-print; his infamy remained inscribed in each gaping
wound, on each fallen statue. The high towers attested to heaven
the execrable violence. The roof was gone, like the scalp which the
savage tears from the head of his victim. The eyes of God could
search to the flagstones and judge with one glance the foul deed.
Outside the church the Place was gloomy, but sublime. By an effect
of fatality, it had become the dwelling-place of the holy relics driven
from the interior. The tabernacle was no longer in the heart of the
cathedral, but scattered in fragments around it: the choir encircled
the church. Fragments of stained-glass replaced the organ-pipes,
and the wind moaned through the leaden groins, and chanted the
dirge of the sacred spot.
Cathedral! Church thrice holy! The murderer tried to destroy thee: he
has given thee eternal life. He tried to gag and choke thee: but the
voice from thy tortured throat resounds higher and clearer
throughout the world. In his stupidity he believed he could annihilate
thee: instead, he has glorified thee. Cathedral! A song in stone, a
hymn—hymn too ethereal for the human ear to catch; a poem of
beauty and light, which the sodden Boche thought to efface, but
which stands resplendent, a witness of his shame, before humanity
and eternal righteousness. Divine, immortal cathedral! Men have
never created a human prayer more sublime than art thou,
bombarded. The German shell believed it had power to destroy thee.
It has crushed thine arches and broken thy wings. Thou hadst no
need of wings to soar. As a spirit of light thou hast floated above the
city; now thou rulest over the city the war, and France; as a symbol,
thou art resplendent over all the world. Rheims, thou wert the shrine
of France; broken, thou art become her emblem. Thou art no longer
ours alone. Thy majesty rises unshaken, triumphant, a divine
intelligence facing savage cruelty; a barrier touched, but not
destroyed, defying bestiality.
We had no words to express our emotions. We walked about, in
silent exaltation. From its purple shroud, still smoking, the enormous
basilique spoke to us. Great scenes in history were enacted in its
sacred precincts: all the sacred kings, the noble sons of France;
Clovis baptized by St. Remy; Charles VII led by Jeanne d’Arc, whose
bronze image still defies the enemy from the porch of the church;
Charles X, last king anointed in this august place—all, all were there
as restless phantoms; powerful, saintly, silent, looking on. We were
satiated with emotion, bewildered by a hundred beauties: the light
through the broken arches, the fragments of art treasures in the dust
at our feet, the scintillating glass on the flagstones. We went away,
fairly giddy with its impassioned grandeur.
The increased cannonade directed our course. It was impossible to
remain longer. We crossed the forsaken park and made a détour
around the deserted station. Behind us lay a city of silence, but her
martyrdom continued incessantly. Shrill whirrings made the air
quiver. Shells growled above the roofs, leaped the streets, crossed
the squares, threatened, fell and exploded. There was a sudden
crash of collapsing floors and of tumbling masonry. A quarter,
somewhere in the city, was being pounded to dust and débris; an
entire quarter was being hammered out of existence. Clouds of
plaster filled the air; great stones crumbled.
Families were unable to escape. Their homes, which should have
sheltered them, were thrown wide open to the brutal dangers of the
street. The invalid’s bed tottered in the ruins, the baby was thrown
from its cradle. The old man died at the side of the youth, the wife in
the arms of her husband, the child at its mother’s breast. The
criminal extermination, determined upon and planned, was
completing its frightful work, was blotting out a city, was beating to
death a country. The Boche, squatting on the commanding heights,
aimed his guns with ease, made sure of his fire and picked out his
prey. He struck practically without risk to himself, sure to hit a target
in the chaos of roofs, to demolish and to destroy. A town—what an
immense quarry! The shell may fall where it will: it is sure to kill. The
explosion will burst in some window, will cross some bedchamber,
will find some victim. A town is a quarry more easily sighted than a
battery. It is huge, it is immovable, it cannot reply. One can destroy it
without danger to oneself.
Therefore the shells fell unerringly; only the flames and smoke made
reply....
We paid it no further attention.

My poor Berthet, charming companion, and sharer of so many

unforgettable experiences, was unable to follow the regiment
through all its struggles. One day, while in the Rheims sector, he
suffered severely in a gas attack and the physicians ordered him to
the rear for treatment in one of the resting-camps. Gradually the soft
air of France healed his tortured lungs and started him on the path of
recovery. The German poison had, however, severely shaken his
constitution and the cure was slow. He was unable to rejoin us for
the tragic trials at Verdun.
 VIII
DISTRACTIONS

EXISTENCE in the trenches is characterized by a monotony that

soon becomes a burden. It is made up of waiting and work: work in
which a man is by turns dirt-digger, sentinel, carpenter, and porter.
There is much time for rest and repose. It is a special type of life,
which recalls that of the sieges of olden days, when armies sat long
months at a time facing each other. One does not fight all the time.
The vigil is constant, but the struggle is not. There is the incessant
watching of the field in front, the unrelaxed tension of stalking the
enemy; and at the rear the staleness of inaction.
What is there to do? Sleep, certainly. Then find amusement, for the
time is long. The hours move slowly, night follows day and day night
without bringing change. Therefore, one must exercise his ingenuity.
One writes a lot of letters. There is always a relative to enlighten, or
a sweetheart to console, or a mother to entertain. Letters arrive
which are read and reread. Then the newspapers bring their limited
ration of news. We discuss their contents. We learn that the
submarine warfare is extending; that the Zeppelins have gone over
England; that the Bulgars are attacking the Roumanians; that a great
parliamentary speech has explained to the world the causes of the
upheaval. Thus we kill a few more minutes. Then ennui returns: dull
tediousness that puts the thumbscrews on the brain; homesickness
for the distant fireside, for the old life renounced for war; yearning for
the past, still near and yet so far. One wanders about and knows not
what to do. One fellow has some playing-cards and opens a game.
We smoke, and dream, and sew, and clean our arms. We await our
turn at sentry duty. It rains. We yawn. The sun comes out, one risks
his life to pay a visit to his neighbors. The picturesque ceases to be,
by reason of familiarity. One sees nothing of that which at first fixed
his attention. The deep trench where crazy grasses hang is a road
only too well trodden. The mess is stale, the card-game stupid. One
is bored to death and utterly worthless.
Then the inveterate wag intervenes. He sings, he “joshes.” He brings
a laugh. The dying conversation revives. Those who were dozing sit
up again and take notice. Circles form. Each one tells a story, and
the long faces spread into smiles. Torpor is banished for a moment.
The man who was cutting a cane with his pocket-knife exhibits it. It is
fine and much admired. The man who hollowed out an inkstand from
a fuse brings it forth. His work is curious, dainty, and ornamental:
bravo! A painter is there, an artist, who brings out his album; he has
a hundred drawings, warm with color. Each man would like to
possess a copy. That is the end: there is nothing more. All this is too
brief, and the time is too long. We cast about for something new.
In a hut some one installs a museum. It is a collection of souvenirs of
the field of battle. The gathered trophies hang on the walls. A Boche
helmet is near a freakishly twisted splinter. A German trooper’s
sword-belt hangs near a saw-bayonet. There are cartridge-boxes,
fragments of guns, the button of a tassel from the sabre of a buried
German officer. Every one is interested in the work and brings his
contribution to enrich the collection. It does not belong to any one in
particular, but is owned jointly. It is the pride of the sector and the joy
of the regiment. It receives the casse-tête picked up after the last
hand-to-hand scrimmage with the Boches; a reservoir of liquid fire,
whose bearer lies somewhere near the trench that he sought to
enter; some fragments of grenades—anything which one might pick
up on a kilometre of ground furrowed by projectiles, dug up by shells,
or ploughed by cannon-balls. Curious conglomeration! Glorious
scraps of iron! Mute witnesses of the fury of men, implements of their
ferocity!
At another spot some man who loves the cultivation of the land cares
for a wee patch of garden. A garden, yes, that is what I said. In the
midst of the trenches. He has planted some pansies, a sprig of
stock, and three clumps of pinks. He waters them every morning,
and watches them carefully. Woe to any careless foot that might
crush them! These flowers, in the sombre surroundings, breathe
perfume and poetry.
At another spot a fight between a dog and a rat is pulled off. A
lieutenant sets a fox-terrier on a promising hole of the rodents. A
group of men look on eagerly. One, armed with a pick, enlarges the
opening. Another removes a stone which was in the way. The dog,
trembling with excitement, sniffs, paws, digs, buries his nose in the
earth, scratches, reaches the animal at the bottom of his retreat—
seizes him! Good dog! He shakes the rat furiously, breaking his
back. The victor is applauded and petted.
Simple distractions, these! I will pass them by quickly. There is the
man who makes chains of welded wire; the one whose hobby is
photography. One mysterious fellow amuses himself with cookery.
There are some secret pursuits, like that of the inveterate hunters,
who place game-traps at twilight and at dawn endanger their lives to
go out to empty them. There are fishermen who drop lines in the
canal. A hundred avocations are followed on the edge of the war,
side by side with the service, in range of the cannon and punctuated
by shells.
I had my occupation, as well as the others, you may be sure. I
published a newspaper: a great affair. A newspaper, in the trenches
—that savors at once of a trade and of an adventure. Title: The War
Cry, appearing once a month. Every month, then, I had a problem: to
get paper. An obliging cyclist had to bring it from the village on the
day fixed. He left it at the foot of a sapling, no matter what the uproar
overhead; no matter how large the edition of shrapnel messages
from the Germans. Oh, honest pulp, intended for a simple life, into
what scenes of adventure art thou thrust!
In one trench the print-shop was twenty feet underground. It was
illuminated by three night-lamps, set in a triangle. At another place
the shop was on a level with the surface of the ground, and the
bombardment scattered sand and pebbles over the proof. At another
time it was installed in a bedroom of a ruined house. As there was no
roof to catch the rain, it fell in large tears on the printer and the
printing. No matter! The number was issued, illustrated. It was
eagerly sought, and the copies circulated briskly, carrying gratuitous
joy, smoothing knit brows, bringing a laugh, and, finally, carrying to
the rear the gayety of the front.
When I look back upon these labors, they seem to me childish. In
their place, they were amazing. The Great Tragedy held us
constantly in its clutch. The man who was polishing a ring for his
fiancée did not finish it: that very evening a ball or a piece of shell
shattered the work and destroyed the worker. The man who was
carving a walking-stick was a mutilated wreck before his work was
finished. The danger was incessant. In these occupations we sought
distraction from the thought of it all, but one could never ward off that
which fate held in store for him. It was an intermission snatched from
ennui; a truce; and when one was doing fairly well, thinking no more
of physical discomfort and mental anguish, suddenly the cannon
barked, the alarm was sounded, and the dance of hell was on again!
“Outside: trench thirteen!”
Then we ran. We left the rings and walking-sticks and the
newspaper. The War Cry—It was the real war cry now. The Boche
had come upon us by stealth. It might be night or day, morning or
evening. He slid, he crept, he crouched, he jumped into our trench.
We must hack him to pieces with grenades. Then we must put up
again a fallen splinter-shield, reconstruct an observation-post, open
again a filled-up trench. The shells came like gusts of wind, the
shrapnel flew, smoked, and stunk.
Or, at another time, it was our turn to leap out, run to the assault,
take a trench, hold it, and guard it.
It was necessary, from time to time, to go to the rear that we might
enjoy some real security and relaxation.
The relief! Who will ever adequately sing its praise? It came at night,
ordinarily. Two or three days before the event the sector saw
strangers arrive for a visit, officers and sergeants, who looked
around and took instructions. This is the way they were shown
about:
“Look out at this point. This part of the trench seems to be in easy
range of the guns.”
“This is a bad corner. Torpedoes hit it every morning. Go by quickly
over there, for you can be seen.”
“Every man who passes this spot is saluted by a bullet. We have
some wounded every evening.”
They took notes, made observations and inquiries. We looked upon
their activities with satisfaction. They were the forerunners of
comrades who were about to come, in their turn, to enjoy a period in
the open country—underground. They never came too soon. Already
we were making up our packets, putting our affairs in order, buckling
our knapsacks, filling our side-bags.
We departed fewer than we came. We left some chums in the earth,
under humble mounds marked with a cross. There was one man
surprised when on patrol—he was carried back dying in the arms of
his companions. Another, disembowelled by a grenade, fell at his
post without a cry. We had known these men, we had loved them.
One was gay, one was grave. All were loyal comrades whom we
would never see again. When killed they had remained all day lying
at their posts. A cloth was thrown over them, concealing the face and
partly covering the body. In the evening when the shadows fell, we
put them in their graves.
It was very simple. If possible, the section surrounded the grave, a
rough excavation hollowed in the dirt thrown up from the trenches.
Sometimes, not always, some one murmured a prayer. The body
was lowered, and the dead went his way saluted as a hero by the
cannon. That was all. It was sad and impressive, simple as an
unpremeditated gesture. Some one put a bunch of field-flowers on
the fresh mound. The soldier’s cap was placed on the wooden cross.
Then into a bottle was slipped the name of the departed—dead that
France might live, fallen at his post of honor. Immediately we
returned to our places, to watch and to fight. To-day it was he. To-
morrow it would be one’s self.
The relief came by following the communication-trenches. Curious
concerning their new post, the fresh arrivals asked many questions:
“Pretty nifty here, isn’t it?”
“Where are the kitchens?”
We informed them as rapidly as possible. We wished that they would
arrive more quickly. It seemed as if we would perish in waiting for
them, and that the danger increased by their coming. They made a
lot of noise. They went back and forth, they talked. Surely the Boche
would hear them and let loose his cannon.
In fact, that is what often occurred. Then the brutal shells added to
the disorder. Ignorant of the shelters, lost in the thick darkness, the
new arrivals flattened themselves out where they could. Their non-
commissioned officers reassembled them and led them on in jostled
disorder. It seemed that the confusion would never end, that we
would have to stay there, all mixed together like tangled thread from
an unwound spool. It seemed that the deadly hammering would
annihilate us all, down in the earth. Then the officers brought order
from chaos. The first line took their places. At the posts of listening
the new men replaced the old.
“Notice that recess: that is where the Boches send their love-tokens.”
“Do you see that black pile over yonder? Behind it is a German
machine-gun.”
Down in the shelters the new men were making themselves at home,
the departing men were gathering up their belongings.
“Good luck to you!”
“Don’t worry about that!”
Then we set out. We reached the line of supply, and crossed a
clearing filled with artillery. We could breathe more easily. We were
going away, toward repose. At last, in the darkness, we found the
road. Conversation began, pipes were lighted. We were getting
farther away from the tunnels, from the depths of the earth, and from
death. Though still menaced by shells, we felt liberated. We came to
a demolished village occupied by moving shadows: men who
remained at the rear, in the accessory service of food supply and
munitions. Lanterns bobbed here and there. Some horses hitched by
the road switched their tails in friendly salute. We went on. We met
an ammunition-train going at full speed in a terrible racket of wheels
and oaths. Still we marched. We descended a slope. Over yonder
lay the Promised Land, spared by the gods of war: where the crops
were growing; where the houses had roofs, the villages had
inhabitants, the barns had straw; where there was wine to drink, girls
to look at, and merchandise to buy. It was all there. We knew it. The
recollections of our former visit came to mind. One hoped to find the
cantonment running on as in the last sojourn; la mère Laprot, who
knew so well how to cook an omelet, and big Berthe, whose teeth
were so white when she smiled.
One gave an energetic hunch to the knapsack. One recognized
every tree, every turn of the road. We were getting nearer. One more
pause and we would be there. We must still climb a bluff, steep as a
ladder, leading to the plateau. We climbed—for everything can be
overcome.
At last we arrived. The village awaited us with open arms. We
entered, and were at home.
The shed was hospitable as ever. We felt of the straw, and laid aside
our accoutrement. The arms and leather trappings made a little pile
at the head of each man’s place. Blankets came out of the
knapsacks. How delicious to stretch at full length on the straw! A few
moments more and a hundred sonorous snores, deep and
diversified, blended their antiphones under the worm-eaten roof.
Life entered the village with the troops. From early morning the
streets swarmed. Wagons lined up under the trees and unpacked
their loads. Horses chewed their hay while switching their tails
contentedly, or enjoyed long drinks at the trough. The blacksmith
hammered the glowing horseshoes in the midst of a smoky haze.
The buffets were full. The cold-meat shop was invaded. The grocer
was besieged until he emptied his boxes. It was a rush, a battle, an
assault.
“Some sausage!”
“Some thread!”
“Some soap!”
“How much for this cheese?”