That 'Eh bien?'--how he put into it, this
elder of ours, so much pitiful authority, such sweetness of command,
such brotherly confidence, and also such strength of will. The five
men sprang up. And you know that we took the village after having
fought from house to house. At the angle of two alleys the lieutenant
was killed, and that is why the two notes of his 'Eh bien?' will always
echo in my heart as the fine call of an unrecorded heroism. It appears
that this war must be impersonal--it is the political formula of the time
--and it is forbidden to mention names. Eh bien? Have I named any
one?"
14
Out of the monotonous narratives of trench-warfare, stories more
horrible than the nightmare phantasies of Edgar Allen Poe, stories of
men buried alive by sapping and mining, and of men torn to bits by a
subterranean explosion which leaves one man alive amidst the litter
of his comrades' limbs so that he goes mad and laughs at the frightful
humour of death, come now and then to reveal the meaning of this
modern warfare which is hidden by censors behind decent veils. It is
a French lieutenant who tells this story, which is heroic as well as
horrid:
"We were about to tidy up a captured trench.
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