II
Well, we weren’t no sooner there than a bunch of guys begun to holler out to Captain Madeira that here we was, and he came a-running, and if we had of been a letter from home he couldn’t of been more excited about us.
“Thank God, you’ve come,” he says.
“Sure we’ve come,” says Shep; “you wasn’t really worried about us, was you?”
But I seen it was more than us the Captain was worrying about, so I says:
“What’s the matter?”
“General Nicholson has broken liaison,” he says, “and we’ve got not a way on earth to reach him unless you fellows can do it.”
“Well, I guess we can, hey kid?” I says to Shep.
But Shep shook his head. “Maybe you can,” he says, “but I ain’t got no more idea where we been than a blind man. I’ll keep you company, though, if you want.”
“Company hell,” says the Captain. “Here,” he says to me, “you come in and see the General.”
So he brung me into the dugout what was the PC to see General Kuhn [Major General Joseph E. Kuhn, commanding general, 79th Division]. And most of the time, the General was a pretty snappy-looking soldier. He was about medium size, and he had a cut to his jaw and a swing to his back what look like them pictures you see in books. But he weren’t no snappy-looking soldier that night. He hadn’t had no shave, and his eyes was all sunk in, and no wonder. Because when the Division ain’t took Montfaucon that day, like they was supposed to, it balled everything up like hell. It put a pocket in the American advance, a kind of a dent, what was holding up the works all along the line. And the General was getting hell from Corps, and he had lost a lot of men, and that was why he was looking like he was.
“Do you know where General Nicholson is?” he says to me, soon as Captain Madeira had told him who I was.
“Yes, sir,” I says, “but I don’t think he does.”
Now what the General said to that I ain’t sure, but he mumbled something to hisself what sound like he be damned if he did either.
“I want you to take a message to him,” he says.
“Yes, sir,” I says.
So he commenced to write the message. And while I was standing there I was so sleepy everything look like it was turning around, like them things you see in a dream. It was a couple of aides in there, and maybe an orderly, and Captain Madeira, and it was in behind a lot of blankets, what they wet and hang over the door of a dugout to keep out gas. And in the middle of it was General Kuhn, writing on a pad in lead pencil, and I remember thinking how old he looked setting there, and then that would blank out and I couldn’t see nothing but his whiskers, and then that would blank out and I would be thinking it was pretty tough on him, and I would do my best to help him out. It weren’t no more than a minute, mind. Why I was thinking all them things jumbled up together was because I hadn’t had no sleep.
“All right,” he says to me; “listen now while I read it to you.”
And why they read it to you is so if you lose it you can tell them what was in it and you ain’t no worse off. And he hadn’t no sooner started to read it then I snapped out of that dream pretty quick. Because it was short and sweet. It said that Nick was to attack right away soon as he got it. And I knowed a little about this Montfaucon stuff from hearing them brigade guys talk while we was going over No Man’s Land, so I knowed I weren’t carrying no message what just said good morning.
“Is that clear to you?” he says.
“Yes, sir,” I says.
“Captain, give this man a horse. As good a horse as you’ve got.”
“Yes, sir,” says the Captain.
“You better ride pretty lively. And report back to me here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No, wait a minute. I’m moving my PC to Malancourt in the next hour. Do you know where Malancourt is?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hunh,” he says, like he meant thank God there was somebody in the outfit what knowed right from left and I was glad I had studied them maps good like I had and could be some use to him.
“Then report to me in Malancourt.” And me and the Captain saluted and went out.
So the Captain took me to Ryan, and Ryan saddled me a horse, and while he was doing it Shep came up and begun to talk about the argument we had about whether we was going with Nick or not, and he handed it to me for figuring out the right thing to do, and the Captain said he was goddam proud of us both for carrying out orders with some sense when everybody else act like they had went off their nut and things was all shot to hell, and I felt pretty good. So pretty soon Ryan come with the horse, and I started out, and after I had went about a couple of miles it was commencing to get light, so I dug my heels in, because I knowed I didn’t have much time.
III
Well, in another five minutes I come to Avocourt. And soon as I rode around the bend I got a funny feeling in my stomach. Because I seen something I had forgot when me and Shep was there, and that was that there was two roads what run from Avocourt up to the front line, one of them running north and the other running northeast, and they kind of forked off from each other in such a way that when you was coming down one of them like we done you wouldn’t notice the other one at all. And I knowed as soon as I looked at them that I didn’t have no idea which one we had come over and it weren’t no way to find out.
So I pulled in and figured. And I closed my eyes and tried to remember how that road had looked when we was coming back down it into Avocourt with the moon rising on our left before we hit the road to Esnes, and that was damn hard, because I was so blotto from not having no sleep that soon as I closed my eyes all I got was a bellering in my ears. But I squinted them up good, and pretty soon it jumped in front of me, how that road looked, and right near Avocourt was a bunch of holes in the middle of it, what look like a tank had got stuck there and dug them up trying to get out. So I opened my eyes and was all set to hit for them holes. But then I knowed I was in for it good. Because in between while we had been over the road, them engineers had surfaced it, and it weren’t no holes, because they was all covered up with stone.
But it weren’t doing no good setting on top of the horse figuring, so I picked the right-hand road and started up it. I figured I would go about as far as me and Shep had come, and then maybe I would run into Nick, or somebody that could tell me where he was at, or what the right road was to take, and that the main thing was to get a move on. But that there sounds easier than it was. Because once you start out somewheres, and get to wondering are you headed right or not, you’re bad off, and you might just as well be standing still for all you’re going to get there.
I kept pushing the horse on, and every step he took I would look around to see if I could see something that me and Shep had seen, and about all I seen was tanks and engineers forking stone, what was what we had saw the night before, but it didn’t prove nothing because you could see tanks and engineers on any road. And them engineers wasn’t no help, because engineers is dumb as hell and then they ain’t got nothing to do with fighting outfits and 157th Brigade sounds just the same to them as any other brigade, and a hell of a wonder me and Shep had found one the night before that could even tell us which way the road run.
Well, after I had went a ways, about as far as I thought me and Shep had come, and ain’t seen a thing that I could say for certain we had saw the night before, and no sign of Nick or his piece of corrugated iron, what might be covered up with stone too for all I knowed, I figured I was on the wrong road sure as hell, and I got a awful feeling that I would have to go back to Avocourt and start over again. Because that order in my pocket, it weren’t getting no cooler, I’m here to tell you. It was damn near burning a hole in my leg, and a funny hiccuppy noise would come up out of my neck every time I thought of it.
But I went a little bit further, just to make sure, and then I come to something tha
t I thought straightened me all out. It was kind of a crossroads, bearing off to the left. And I couldn’t remember that we had passed it the night before, so I figured I must of gone wrong, when I tooken the right-hand fork at Avocourt. But this road, I thought, will put me right, because it leads right acrost to the other one and I won’t have to lose all that time going back to Avocourt. So I helloed down it, and for the first time since I left Avocourt I felt I was going right. And sure enough, pretty soon I come to the other road, and it weren’t no new stone on it at that place, so I turned right, toward the front, and started up it. And I worked on the horse a little bit, because without no loose stone under his foot he could go better, and kind of patted him on the neck and talked to him, because he hadn’t had no sleep neither and he was tired as hell by this time, and then I lifted him along so he went in a good run. And it weren’t quite light yet, and I thought thank God I’ll be in time.
IV
So pretty soon I come to some soldiers what wasn’t engineers. So I pulled up and hollered out:
“What way to the Hundred and fifty-seventh Brigade PC?”
“The what?” they says.
“The Hundred and fifty-seventh Brigade PC,” I says. “General Nicholson’s PC.”
“Never hear tell of it,” they says.
“The hell you say,” I says. “And you’re a hell of a goddam comical outfit, ain’t you?”
Because that was one of them gags they had in the army. They would ask a guy what his outfit was, and then when he told them they would say they never hear tell of it.
So I rode a little further and come to another bunch. “Which way is the Hundred and fifty-seventh Brigade PC?” I says. “General Nicholson’s PC?”
But they never said nothing at all. Because they was doughboys going up in the lines, and when you hear somebody talk about doughboys singing when they’re going to fight, you can tell him he’s a damn liar and say I said so. Doughboys when they’re going up in the lines they look straight in front of them and they swaller every third step and they don’t say nothing.
So pretty soon I come to another bunch what wasn’t doughboys and I asked them. “Search me, buddy,” they says, and I went on. And I done that a couple of times, and I ain’t found out nothing. So then I figured it weren’t no use asking for the Brigade PC no more, because a lot of them guys they wouldn’t never of hear tell of the Hundred and fifty-seventh Brigade even if they was in it, so I figured I would find out what outfit they was in and then I could figure out from that about where I was at. So that’s what I done.
“What outfit, buddy?” I says to the next bunch I come to. But all they done was look dumb, so I didn’t waste no more time on them, but went on till I come to another bunch, and I asked them.
“AEF,” a guy sings out.
“What the hell,” I says. “You think I’m asking for fun?”
“YMCA,” says another, and I went on. And then all of a sudden I knowed why them guys was acting like that, and why it was was this: Ever since they come to France, they had been told if somebody up in the front lines asks you what your outfit is, don’t you tell him because maybe he’s a German spy trying to find out something. Because of course they wasn’t really worried none that I was a German spy. What they was worried about was that maybe I was a MP or something what was going around finding out how they was minding the rule, and they wasn’t taking no chances. Later on, when a whole hell of a lot of couriers had got lost and the American Army didn’t know was it coming or going, they changed that rule. They marked all the PC’s good so you could see them, and had arrows pointing to them a couple miles away so you couldn’t get lost. But the rule hadn’t been changed that morning, and that was why them guys wouldn’t say nothing.
Well, was you ever in a lunatic asylum? That was what it was like for me from that time on. I would ask and ask, and all I ever got was “YMCA,” or “Company B,” or something like that, and it getting later all the time, and me with that order in my pocket. And after a while I thought well I got to pretend to he an officer and scare somebody into telling me where I’m at. So the first ones I come to was a captain and a lieutenant setting by the side of the road, and they was wearing bars. But me not having no bars didn’t make no difference, because up at the front some officers wore bars but most of them didn’t, and if you take the bars off, one guy without a shave looks pretty much like another. So I went up to them and saluted and spoke sharp, like I had been bawling out orders all my life.
“Which way is General Nicholson’s PC?” I says, and the captain jumped up and saluted.
“General Nicholson?” he says. “Not around here, I’m pretty sure, sir,” he says.
“Hundred and fifty-seventh Brigade?” I says, pretty short, like he must be asleep or something if he didn’t know where that was.
“Oh, no,” he says. “That wouldn’t be in this Division. This is all Thirty-seventh.”
So then I knowed I was sunk. The 37th Division, it was on our left, and that meant I had been on the right road all the time when I left Avocourt, as I seen many a time since by checking it up on the maps, and had went wrong by wondering about that fork. And it weren’t nothing to do but cut across again, and hope I might bump into General Nicholson somehow, and if I didn’t to keep on beating to Malancourt, so I could report to General Kuhn like I had been told to do. And what I done from then on I ain’t never figured out, even from them maps, because I was thinking about that order all the time, and how it ought to been delivered already if it was going to do any good, and I got a little wild. I put the horse over the ditch and went through the woods, and never went back to the crossroads at all. And them woods was all full of shell holes, so you couldn’t go straight, and the day was still cloudy, so you couldn’t tell by the sun which way you was headed, and it weren’t long before I didn’t know which the hell way I was going. One time I must of been right up with the fighting, because a guy got up out of a shell hole and yelled at me for Christ sake not go over the top of that hill with the horse, because there was a sniper a little ways away, and I would get knocked off sure as hell. But by that time a sniper, if he only knowed where the hell he was sniping from, would of looked like a brother, so I went over. But it weren’t no sniper, because I didn’t get knocked off.
And another time I come to the rim of a shell hole what was so big you could of dropped a two-story house in it, and right new, but it weren’t no dirt around it and you couldn’t see no place the dirt had went. And right then the horse he wheeled and begun to cut back toward where he had come from. Because he was so tired by then he was stumbling every step and didn’t want to go on. So I had to fight him. And then I got off and begun to beat him. And then I begun to blubber. And then I begun to blubber some more on account of how I was treating the horse, because he ain’t done nothing and it was up to me to make him go.
And while I was standing there blubbering, near as I can figure out, the 313th, what was part of the 157th Brigade, was taking Montfaucon. Because General Kuhn he ain’t sat back and waited for me. Soon as I left him he got on a horse and rode up to the front line hisself, there in the dark, and passed the word over they was to advance, and then relieved a general what didn’t seem to be showing no signs of life, and put a colonel in command at that end of the line, and pretty soon things were moving. So Nick, he got the order that way and went on, and the boys, if they had Nick in command, they would take the town. So they took it.
V
It must of been after eleven o’clock when I got in to Malancourt. And there by the side of the road was General Kuhn, all smeared up with mud and looking like hell. And I went up to him and saluted.
“Did you deliver that message?” he says.
“No, sir,” I says.
“What!” he says. “Then what are you doing coming in here at this hour?”
“I got lost,” I says.
He never said nothi
ng. He just looked at me, starting in from my eyes and going clear down to my feet, and that there was the saddest look I ever seen one man turn on another. And it weren’t nothing to do but stand there and hold on to the reins of the goddam horse, and wish to hell the sniper had got me.
But just then he looked away quick, because somebody was saluting in front of him and commencing to talk. And it was Nick. And what he was talking about was that Montfaucon had been took. But he didn’t no more than get started before General Kuhn started up hisself.
“What do you mean!” he says, “by breaking liaison with me? And where have you been anyway?”
“Where have I been?” says Nick. “I’ve been taking that position, that’s where I’ve been. And I did not break liaison with you!”
So come to find out, them runners what had showed us the way over No Man’s Land was supposed to keep liaison, only it was their first day of fighting, same as it was everybody else’s, and what they done was keep liaison with that last year’s bird nest what Nick had left, and didn’t get it straight they was supposed to space out a little bit till they reached to the Division PC.
“And, anyway,” says Nick, “there was a couple of your own runners that knew where I was. Why didn’t you use them?”
So of course that made me feel great.
So they began to cuss at each other, and the generals can outcuss the privates, I’ll say that for them. So I kind of saluted and went off, and then Captain Madeira, he come to me.
“What’s the matter?” he says.
“Nothing much,” I says.
“You didn’t make it, hey?”
“No. Didn’t make it.”
“Don’t worry about it. You did the best you could.”
“Yeah, I done the best I could.”
“You’re not the only one. It’s been a hell of a night and a hell of a day.”