THE AMBUSCADE.

Waikato Argus, Volume V, Issue 339, 10 September 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE AMBUSCADE.

' Tigol ! Artaud ! Didier !' Each man answered ' Present' as his name was called, and rising from his straw lied took his rifle from the rack and went silently out into the court.

Five o'clock struck from the steeple of a distant church, each stroke vibrating with a dismal sound.

Without a word the sharpshooters drew up before the half open door of the post, through which came puffs of warm air, and whose windows were dimly lighted by the rays of a petroleum lamp. There were ten men, their hands in their pockets, their guns hanging from their shoulders by a strap, the collars of their jackets turned up, and shivering from the first contact with the cold morning air. At a distance, by the wall of the farm, a sentinel peered into the menacingdarkness, withearsalert for the vague sounds of the country. He saluted with a ; Good luck, comrades,' and after halting a moment to watch us descend toward the Meuse by a path leading through a little hollow, continued has monotonous promenade.

We followed the bank of the river. The water flowed beside us with an intermittent splashing and a gentle rustle against (he. rushes. We could see nothing distinctly. The river and the town wore asleep, and the fields and sky seemed blended in a uniform tint of India ink.

My men marched without speaking a word, and with the curious wariness that proximity to the enemy gives to the bravest. At such a time, when plunging into an unknown danger, there are few but would feel a shiver run through them, and I myself, having tolerably excitable nerves, feverishly fingered my sword-knot beneath my cape. When we passed our last outpost we hailed, and in a few words I explained to my men the work which lay before us. Every morning at daybreak a platoon of Uhlans made a round be tween Warcq and Darmouzy, two towns occupied by a Prussian observation corps. They were seen to file quietly along about twelve miles in advance of their lines. We had orders to lie in ambush for them in svoods of Etourneaux, through which they had to pass. We soon left the tow-path and cut across the fields by a difficult ascent, where our feet sank in the long grass.

The wind had risen, driving away the cloud?, and a dim light fell from above. About two hundreds yards before us a dwelling outlined itself —the farm of Grael, recently burned to prevent the Prussians from establishing themselves thare.

One soldier was sent forward to scout, and went off like a hare, crouching and using the greatest caution. From the ditch where we were hidden, with weapons ready, we watched him for some time ; then he disappeared in the dusk. In about five minutes he returned, having seen nothing suspicious. Then we crossed the courtyard of the farm. Only the four walls were standing, but half crumbled away. The burned debris crushed under our feet and a strong smell of smoke almost choked us. Perfect silence reigned—the silence of new ruins where life has not yet had time to graft itself upon the death of former things. A grey light appeared in the horizon. The wind wafted us the sound of a clock striking the half hour, and the voices of cocks saluting the dawn. As we reached the wood the day began to break, We marched in single file along an indistinct path, obstructed by overhanging branches which scratched our faces or fell with a dry crack. The dead leaves blown here and there by a puff of wind, wakened muffled echoes in the wood ; the again all was silence. < Halt!'

The sun rising behind us in the fog threw a red light across the coppice, and the dew sparkled on the borders of the leaves. An early chatlinch sang above our heads. Stationed on the bank overhanging the road some of the sharpshooters squatted on their heels and hastily ate a piece of bread or drank a swallow of brandy; the others waited lying on their stomachs, their elbows buried in the moss. They all looked serious, with pinched noses and set lips.

Daylight increased. Already we could see the white trunks of the birch trees, looking like stiff phantoms among the mottled foliage. The morning dampness penetrated me to the bone in spite of my cape, and I dozed with my eyes open, made light-headed by the odour of the moist leaves and the anticipation of the coming fight. Odd dreams and fantastic hallucinations wandered through my brain, and tangled rings of Uhlans seemed to dance around me. After many wakenings I mechanically drew out my watch —the hands seemed stationary, for they moved with such exasperating slowness. ' Lieutenant/ a sergeant whispered in my ear, ' there they come ,—there they come !' I drew myself up. 1 Attention comrades! On no account fire without the word of command. Our lives depend upon it. Do you understand V The trot of the horses became more and more distinct. Suddenly

it ceased. The Prussians consulted together before entering the Etourneaux woods. Soon one of them rode forward as a scout, revolver in hand, and passed about ten paces from us a handsome fellow, sitting upright on his horse, whose crupper was covered by the long cape,—his colours, black and white, floating behind him in the wind.

He advanced a few steps, carefully scrutinising both sides of the road. Me hesitated a moment and listened, then he drew up his horse's bridle and almost immediately a whistle sounded, telling his companions that the road was clear.

From our shelter we could hear the Uhlans laugh and joke, chopping their harsh Teutonic syllables, and swearing at their sturdy Mechlenberg horses when they stumbled in the heavy leaves, wet with dew. A strange emotion took me in the throat, as if a hand grasped me there. I certainly had no fear, but it seemed to me as if I was about to commie a cowardly act in killing these men by surprice, almost by treachery, without allowing thfrm to defend themselves. Yes ; I hated the Germans, those odious conquerors, whose halting places were marked by executions, pillages and arson, and yet there was a feeling stronger than myself, a supreme pity took possession of me, my flesh revolted, and I would have wished to beg for mercy. They were plainly in view against the blue sky as they came towards us, their bodies shaking gently, their helmets securely fastened over their foreheads, the lance resting in the stirrup and held by a strap beneath. The scabbards of their swords clashed against the saddles, their horses' bits flashed in the green reflections of the wood, and the Uhlans continued to laugh and joke. One was quite young, almost a boy, and did not laugh with the others. I noticed him especially, and thought of the mother he had doubtless left behind in Germany. I imagined a room, shining with neatness, with a large earthenware stove, the father seated in his easychair, smoking his porcelain pipe, and beside the table sat the mother and sister ravelling lint for the wounded. . . . There is a

knock ' Ah, it is the postman,' cries the young girl joyfully. ' News from brother,' going quickly to open the door, while the mother rises hastily. ' Why, this is strange ! It is not his writing !' For a moment nothing is heard in the room but the roar of the stove, and Hie rustling of the enve-

lope hastily torn open. . . Then the poor woman falls backward with a loud cry : ' He is dead ! He is dead !'

But now the riders were just passing us. There was no time to hesitate. I straightened up and gave the command : ' Fire !'

Ten reports sounded at once together with cries of pain and the sound of a furious gallop. . . Then we perceived four men and two horses lying upon the road, mortally wounded, and araoung them the little Uhlan, with a bullet hole through his forehead, stretched upon his back with his legs apart and his hands clinched. The others had turned horse and fled on a gallop toward Damouzy. We returned without being molested, were cheered by our comrades and congratulated by our colonel, and received our orders for the day. But in spite of all there remained with me for a long time a nervous depression, if bitter memory —something like remorse for a duty fulfilled.—By P. Labarriere.