Paths of Glory (23 page)

Jonnart was nonplussed and angry with himself for having failed to foresee the possibility of this sort of thing. He was convinced the number was sixty-eight, but still he didn't want to send a man to the execution post on a mere conviction. He wanted to do so even less because Fasquelle's behavior about the matter had earned his approval. An idea suddenly came to him.

“Darde, open all the numbers in your cap and get me eighty-nine.”

The impasse remained, however. Number eighty-nine, when found, was so written that it didn't rest on a line whichever side up it was held. It could have been either eighty-nine or sixty-eight.

“The only thing for it,” said Jonnart, “is to make the draw again . . .”

Instantly a chorus of protests broke out.

“How many times, Name of God!”

“We've drawn once . . .”

“That was final.”

“Let those two fight it out.”

“It's an outrage.”

“I took my chance with the rest, and I won't draw again.”

“Silence, all of you!” Jonnart roared. “You'll do as you're told. No more observations, or I'll draw some extra numbers. The draw will be made again. You'll keep your same numbers, but I'll fix the others so there won't be any confusion this time.”

Jonnart went over Darde's slips one by one, picking each up and looking at it from top and bottom. When he was through, he had underlined the following pairs of numbers thus:

There were other numbers containing ones, such as eighteen and eighty-one, which might have been subject to the same confusion of inversion had not Darde been a Frenchman. Because he was French, and because he had printed the figures, the sergeant had made his ones with two distinct strokes and there was no doubt about which side up the numbers should be read.

“All right. Attention, men! We're ready. And there won't be any mistake this time. Darde, mix the slips again. All the numbers that might be confused are underlined. The line shows that the number is to be read with the line at the bottom.”

“Please, sergeant,” said a voice, “my pal and me would like to swap numbers . . .”

“No,” said Jonnart.

“What's the idea?” said Darde.

“Well, we sort of figured our numbers had been good to us once and we didn't want to ask too much of them again. . . .”

“If they've been good to you once,” said Jonnart, “you'd better stick to them. Ready, Darde?”

Darde turned his back to the men again, again placed his hand behind him and felt the cap come up and the papers close over his hand. His fingers again felt for a piece of paper, caught a small wad of them, released them all except one which he withdrew and held at arm's length over his head. Jonnart took it.

“Number seventy-six.”

The crowd parted to let the owner of number seventy-six through, but there was no need, for Langlois had been standing near the table all the time.

 

The guard-room had been set up in one of the outbuildings of the château, in the coach house, to be exact. The coach house itself served for the guard while the harness room, leading off it, had been converted into a prison by the simple means of constructing a low, sloping, and man-length pallet of boards along one of the walls. This was so that the prisoners would not have to sleep on the cement floor, and it was the only furniture the place contained except for a urine bucket near the door.

Férol was the first of the three men to be let into the clink. One glance showed him which was the best place in the room, the corner near the window and farthest from the door, and he went straight to it and took possession. Férol made himself at home in a place in which he felt quite at home. He had been in many clinks in various parts of the world, and this was by no means the worst of them. He took off his tunic and his boots, unbuttoned his trousers, and stretched himself out on the bare boards, resting his head on his tunic which he had folded into a wad for a pillow. In a few moments he was asleep.

Within the next half hour Didier and Langlois had each in turn been escorted into the guard-room. They woke Férol up, and it was the first time the three men had spoken to each other. They exchanged names and established the fact that none of them had any cigarettes.

“What are you here for?” Didier asked Férol.

“How should I know? This is my headquarters. I'm always here. And, sooner or later, I always find out why. Either of you got a pack of cards?”

“What are you here for?” Langlois asked Didier.

“It's a long story and I'll save it for later,” said Didier. “There's a little bastard of a lieutenant who's out for my hide, that's all. I know this is his work, all right. And you, what about you?”

“Well, I'm here for the same thing you two are, though you don't know it. There ought to be a fourth showing up soon. Then we could play bridge, if we had some cards . . .”

“Bridge, what's that?” said Férol.

“It's a game,” said Langlois.

“But what's this game, that's what I'd like to know,” said Didier.

“Oh, this game,” said Langlois, “this game's much simpler than bridge.”

“Well, what is it, if you know what you're talking about?”

“It's just this. We're here under charges of cowardice in the face of the enemy and we're going before a court martial this afternoon, a summary court martial,” said Langlois.

“How d'you know?” said Didier.

“Because I heard the order read out.”

“And what did the order say? Come on, loosen up, will you.”

“Just what I told you. Each company commander was to select and arrest a man to go before a summary court martial on charges of cowardice in the face of the enemy.”

“But what cowardice? Whose cowardice? I don't understand.”

“This morning,” said Langlois. “Because the attack failed, I suppose. The staff wants to make some examples, and we're the examples.”

“Why us?” said Férol.

“I don't know why you,” said Langlois, “but I know why me. Because our company drew lots and I drew the wrong number. Wrong for me, that is, right for all the others.”

“Jesus!” said Didier. “Drew lots, eh? That looks serious.”

“Yes,” said Férol, “that looks like something, all right. But my company didn't draw lots. The sergeant just comes up to me and says, ‘Come with me.' As soon as we're out of the camp he tells me I'm under arrest. Just as if that was a novelty for me. . . .”

“That's just the way they did with me,” said Didier. “They didn't draw lots in my company either. Ah, now I begin to see it. Select and arrest a man, you say the order said? The dirty, stinking little bastard! Talk about cowards! But I'll tell the court martial a thing or two. I won't let the little swine get away with . . .”

The door of the clink was suddenly thrown open and the sergeant of the guard entered. “Prisoners, attention!” he ordered. “Up on your feet, there. Snap to it!”

An officer, a captain, walked in and the sergeant went out, closing and locking the door after him. The captain looked at a piece of paper he was carrying.

“Private Didier?”

“Here, sir.”

“Langlois?”

“Here, sir.”

“Férol?”

“Here, sir.”

“At ease, men. Sit down, if you wish. This is serious and I haven't got much time, so listen to me carefully. . . .”

“Got a smoke on you, captain?” said Férol.

The captain passed out a package of cigarettes and watched it, after making the rounds, disappear into Férol's pocket. He gave Didier a match and the men lighted up.

“You all know,” the captain continued, “that the attack this morning was a failure. Division insists that it was because the attacking wave failed to advance on account of cowardice. They can't punish a whole regiment so they've decided that one man from each of the first-wave companies is to go before a court martial on charges of cowardice. I can't argue about the right or wrong of this now, I haven't time. And anyway it wouldn't get us anywhere. Colonel Dax has personally done all in his power to prevent this, but he's up against a stone wall. Orders are orders. My name is Etienne. I'm in command of Number 7 Company of the Second Battalion and the colonel has appointed me to defend you at the court martial because I'm a lawyer in civil life. What good that'll do me at a court martial remains to be seen. I'll do my best, you can be sure, but I don't want to give you any false hopes or take anything for granted. A court martial is quite a different thing from a civil court, even a criminal one.

“Now, first, I want to ask each one of you a question and I want you to answer it with absolute honesty. It will be for your own good if you do. If I am to defend you, I must not be in the dark about anything. And remember that whatever you tell me here is in the strictest secrecy. It is just as safe with me as if it were said to a priest in the confessional.

“Did any of you three men do anything, show any sign that might be construed by witnesses as cowardice in the face of the enemy?”

“No.” The word was spoken three times with varying degrees of emphasis.

“If you did, I beg of you to tell me so that we can work out a defence. I don't want them to spring any witnesses on me and not have an answer ready.”

“I was way through our wire,” said Férol. “Meyer can tell you that, he was with me. So can Captain Sancy.”

“I was right near to Lieutenant Bonnier in the wire when he was killed,” said Langlois.

“And I was climbing onto the parapet,” Didier said, “when Corporal Valladier's body fell on top of me and knocked me back into the trench. It knocked the wind right out of me. By the time I was on my feet again, my company was all back in the trench. They couldn't advance.”

“That's good,” said the captain with a cheerfulness he didn't feel. “My advice to you is to stick to those stories and not to let the prosecutor shake you out of them. I'll help you all I can, but the rules of evidence do not obtain in courts martial the way they do in other courts. You must expect to find the whole business very arbitrary.

“Now, one or two hints about your behavior. Remember that you will still be soldiers in the presence of your superior officers, not litigants before a bar of justice. Make your bearing respectful but in no sense cringing. Act like what you are, soldiers and brave ones at that, but don't overdo it to the point of seeming to be arrogant or lacking in a sense of discipline. I've looked at the room where the court will sit. You will have the afternoon light in your eyes. Don't let this disconcert you and above all don't let it make it seem as if you were dropping your eyes, hang-dog. Just brace yourselves to the light. Keep your chins up. Repeat it to yourself, if necessary: ‘I must keep my chin up.' When you are speaking, look each of the judges in the eye. Don't whine or plead or make speeches. Just make statements in a soldierly manner. Make them short, but make them so they can be heard all over the room. Try not to repeat yourselves. I'll do that for you when I sum up. I'll emphasize the points you brought out in your testimony. Confine yourselves to answering the questions that are put to you and leave the speech-making to me. Is there anything you want to say to me now?”

“Yes,” said Férol. “Will you leave us a few matches before you go?”

“Yes,” said Langlois. “I was drawn by lot for this business. Wouldn't that point be an excellent defence? It shows obviously that there was no coward in my company whom the sergeant-major could put his finger on.”

“Yes,” said Didier, and he began to tell the captain the story of the patrol. He told it to him quietly, not omitting anything, not even that he had fired at Roget to prevent him from killing Lejeune. The three men listened to him intently and, when he was through, each one, to his own capacity, felt anger in his heart.

“You believe me, sir, don't you?” Didier asked, passionately desiring to be believed.

“Yes, I believe you, Didier, but who else will? Who else will want to? I'm afraid your story won't do you much good, and it might do you a lot of harm. In the first place, you've got no witnesses. That's very bad. Secondly, even if you had, I think the story would only antagonize the court. They couldn't very well tolerate a private soldier bringing such accusations against an officer. And they would be bound to suspect and to believe that you were trumping them up in order to save yourself. That would react against you in the worst way. Take my advice and don't say a word about that affair at the court martial. If things go wrong, I'll see what use can be made of it later, in private conversation with one of the judges or someone.”