The Vetera: A Tale of the French Army.

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 1008, 24 December 1910, Page 13

The Vetera: A Tale of the French Army.

J By Georges D'Esparbes.

Ranks thinned, hopeless, waiting for. orders to retreat, the French Army faced the foe. C Company of the 4th Veterans; then, marching out of step, dodging bullets, the Volunteers; and, in front, tho drummers, chins on drums, smiling under their blue caps. % Two companies of chasseurs had fallen on the-flank of 3000 cuirassiers; between the fallen horses, the red faces of the Austrians looked out. Then the battalion of the Meuse ran in; and the drummers, perching on dead horses, beat the charge. , "Moulin!" a voice cried—"Where is Moulin ?" "Dead." . "And Arnould Feldstein?" c "Dead." "Are you all dead down there?" cried tho impatient voice. "To tho field hospital, at once! Get orders I '|'he commandant, wounded three hours before, was in the hospital; but the hospital, far enough from the enemy when tho day began, was now close to the enemy; and to go to it meant death. ' Besson!" ordered the sergeant, "take the canteen mule, ride to the ambulance and get orders!" - Besson and the mule wero comrades. Between fights, when the men lay on tljcir arms, the boy had danced on tho mule's back—the mule running—and ployed his drum to beat tho band; and together, boy and mulo had faced fire in the night-tight on the mountain, the boy on foot on the mule's back, the mule planted on its stubborn heels. To the hospital! Besson slid from his perch. Just then, through blinding smoke, came a volley. In the front rank seven men fell dead. The drums rolled. i Another volley; the drummers dropped. Over men and horses, through parting ! ranks, tho boy worked his way to the canteen, loosed the mule, and mounted. Ten minutes later the army of France and tho.army of Austria'saw a child mounted on a mule, pressing forward toward the enemy. Behind him the spent army waited, and ahead the triumphant Austrians rammed their guns. "Besson will get there!" muttered the sergeant; "he danced on the mule's back, , on tho mountain.". Besson was under orders. Go to the | hospital! . "I shall never get there!" thought the boy. ' "But I am a Frenchman. ... I can die!" Had the "little corporal" come down from the.world of spirits to save tho day? Who was it on the mule, waving drumsticks, crooking his elbows, beo!ting tho drum like mad? Besson! shouting to the French Army with all the strength of his young arms! "Come on!" He was so'young, so small, so gay—with his laughing mouth and rattling drumsticks! It was too much for the old war dogs! t "En. avant!" With a roar, the arrjiy of France rushed-forward; and ahead of them all, a child, on a gray mule, beat' the wild charge. Such drumming—close pressed; resonant; roll on roll; calling to the men with all. the voices of the glorious dead! • Panic-struck, tho Austrians broko .ranks, men, horses and cannon. ...• Ono only, a sharpshooter, stood his .ground. "This js 'death," thought little Besson; and he fell, faco down, between the ears of his mule.

, Five months later, by ordcr'ofthe government, Besson.-palo relic of.the drum corps'of was takeii from the .hospital.to Paris and carried intd 1 a vast gray court, guarded by old cannon; a pigmy, wasted by-lover, with arms like a chicken's drumsticks. Leaning on : his crutch he had tho air of an insect. And there ho stood, flanked by warriors glittering with orders and gold lace. Tho drums rolled tho call. Assemble! From all the galleries, down all tho stairs, crept old men, veterans of ancient wars, crawling like dying worms toward the pallid boy. First the Governor of tho Hotel des Invalides, 104 years old, old soldier of the Palatinate; then, four files way, the King's dragoons, a haughty troop; ten veterans of tho ancient Croatians; six centenarians of the regiment Clermont-Prince, eye-witnesses of tho war of Frederick 11., They passed like spec- ' tres, eyes hidden. by.: grisly. lashes. ; "Besson, stand .firm!" . ' BessoiK shifted ins-crutch and straightened his tired back; and in two ranks the veterans of the ltoyal Poland limped slowly by. "Halt!" ordered tho marshall. . "Veterans! A Qliild, eleven years old, a soldier, retires this day from active service!" Dim eyes peered out from the wrinkled masks, and on trembling necks the old heads craned forward. Tho marshal drew his sword. "The roll!" The drums growled. The marshal spoke again: "Soldiers of'the old wars! I'give into your keeping a comrade, the grenadier Paul Besson; the country's ward; oxdrummer of the battalion of the lleuse, tj whom.the nation owes its victory!." Again the drums growled. The child's eyelids fluttered; his gaze wandered from the faces patched with mold to tho grass between the paving stones; his lip quivered. "I am tired; Commandanthe whispered. "My leg hurts me!" "Stand firm!" answered the marshal; "A soldier feels no pain when the army passes." ■ Tho child gripped his crutch. He was like a sick bird clinging to a bough. The lst"company was still circling tho square when the 2nd passed; tho Old Guard soldiers of Navarro and the Col-onel-General; men who had fought at Parma, Holtwitz, Dettingen, Fribotirg, Fontenoy and Laveld; turbulent handful; pandours, chasseurs, :and hussars of. Bercheny. "Halt!" Tho governor raised his sword. "Men of the batteries, to your guns!" The cannon, silent through all the years, bronze, dogs of the Conquest of Holland, roared salute to the frightened child. "Why do you tremble?" laughed tho marshal. "Had you trembled when you led tho charge, France had scored no victory. .Stand firm! Besson! the dead of a glorious past are watching you!" "I am tired," murmured the child. "Why am I here? What do they want of me—thoso sick old men?" "You are here to claim ,your place. Tho old men are your comrades. You will live with them; dress like them; bo revered and served' as ono of the Old Guard." f « # ■ # * . * The vast courtyard, where tho grass grows between the slabs of tho pavement, was silent. The review was over; tho' old men were in their beds. The marshal and tho governor still flanked tho child. Tho child leaned hard upon his crutch., "And now," said tho marshal, "Veteran of France, to your soup!" Besson saluted, and, led by the governor, limped away to eat his first supper as an Invalid.