Stuyvesant High School - Indicator Yearbook (New York, NY)

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l TI-IE COWARD Then it was true after all. The question I had turned over in my mind so often was at last answered. Pierre was a coward! Fournier bent over him and with a low contemptuous laugh murmured something too low for me to hear. Pierre stiffened abruptly, and rising, joined the party with a curt salute. Now that the desired six had been obtained I snapped outi En avant Marche! and took the lead. In single file we plodded thru the thick mire of the trench. Finally the last outpost was reached and our cavalcade, crawling now on all fours, moved with utmost caution. Worst of all the storm was about to break. Terrihc peals of thunder shook the earth and dazzling flashes of lightning uncovered the darkness from the faces of the dead. Once my hand touched something soft and slimy. With a terrible sensation of horror I shrunk from what proved to be a putrefying mass of Hesh. Suddenly the shrill cry of the owl burst upon us, unnerving the men completely. One poor fellow rushed forward wildly imploring me not to go further. At last, realizing that a successful raid under these circumstances was impossible, I ordered the men to go back in twos, counting from the rear. Each pair was to take another trail in order to avoid detection. But as I watched them make off, imagine my horror when I observed that I-Ienri Fournier and Pierre had been destined to be paired off together. I-Iowever, It was impossible for me to prevent their going back alone, because of the gossip that such an act of intervention on my part would cause. It was sufficient for me alone to know that Pierre was a coward. Therefore I marked the course the two had taken and, after making sure the others were well on their way, I followed in the footsteps of these mortal enemies. Pierre was, of course, a coward,-that I had decided. I-Iad he not been taunted openly and had he not refused to strike back? I knew that this was not due to physical incapability, but because he lacked moral stamina. And then again were it not for the goading of Henri Fournier, Pierre certainly would not have joined the raiding party. With these thoughts uppermost in my mind, I crept in their wake. Again At last I found them. Disclosed by a vivid streak of fire were two familiar Figures grappling below me in the hollow of a huge shell-crater, On the opposite brink was a lone spectator, an enormous black owl, perched on a decaying orpse and raving madly. 27 I again I stumbled into ditches or fell headlong over some mangled body.

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TI-IE INDICATOR in stature that from a distance it was impossible to tell the difference between them. Qnce I gleaned from an overheard remark that, tho Fournier had openly taunted him, Pierre refused to strike back. It was then I first asked myself: Was this due to a natural reticence, finally to be overcome, or was it rank cowardice? :ie :lc wk rl: Ik ak Then came that hideous night which shall never leave my memory. No Mans Land was hushed to an uncanny stillnessg only the groans of a dying lad, calling in vain for his mother, interrupted the heavy silence. From my position behind the trench parapet I could see the spurts of flame from a Boche machine gun, as it tried to locate him. The enemy had stopped sending up his Hares, but the intermittent light- ning Hashes of a rapidly approaching storm lit the scene with a ghastly sharp- ness. A fresheningqwind also heralded the imminent tempest, bringing with it the sickening stench of carrion. As a hnal touch of weirdness could be heard the distant rumbling of thunder slowly but gradually gaining in volume. I turned about to see how my men were faring. Their nerves had been severely overwrought during the past week by repeated night attacks and I was already anxious for relief from the rear. Too frightened to go to their dugout they sat huddled together on the firestep murmuring some half-forgotten prayers. In a towering rage I accosted them. So this is the type of soldiers France must depend upon! Men who cringe with fear because of a peal of thunder or a flash of lightning! 'iPardon Lieutenant Dupont, one of them ventured in reply, but have you not heard it? Yes, I laughed scornfully, 'fthe storm? No, Monsieur, he answered in a hoarse whisper and pointed far out beyond our trenches. Listen! Good God! My blood ran cold and an irre- pressible shudder shook my body. It was the ominous hooting of an owl ghoulishly flitting over No Man's Land. With an effort I mastered myself. Enough of this superstitious folly, I cried, there is a raid planned for to-night. Eleven of you are here, but only six are needed. Who will volunteer? Without a word five figures instantly stepped forward. Though the dark- ness made their features very indistinct, a timely streak of lightning was sufficient to tell me that one of the men was Henri Fournier. I watched the latter carefully as he strode over to a seated figure at one edge of the group, - a figure that I had no difficulty in recognizing as my own brother. ' 26

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THE INDICATOR Then the tempest broke with all its fury. Avalanches of rain swept between me and the two combatants. The triumphant screeching of the owl coupled with the maddening roar of the wind rang in my ears as I peered intently thru the blackness. Suddenly, from out of the chaos at my feet, aform broke free with a Titanic strain and, bayonet in hand, stood toweringly above the other. Im- mediately there surged thru my disordered brain vast recollections of I-Ienri Fournier. In an instant I remembered the aggressive attitude he had always taken toward Pierre. Realizing that the latter was a coward, Fournier had without a doubt seduced him here to seek his revenge. And of those two familiar figures who could that threatening form be other than I-Ienri Fournier? Throbbing with emotion I rushed upon this villain about to slay my brother, and drawing my sword, plunged it thru his body. I-Ie uttered a cry of pain which caused my heart to stop beating in sheer fright. UNO, no! It cannot be! I told myself. ' Tenclerly I picked the other figure up and holding him tightly, I started back to our lines. Pierre, my darling brother, I whispered, you are safeal have wronged you indeed- you are still but a child, unfit to associate with these men - fear not - I killed Fournier with my own hands. The deafening roar of the thunder, the blinding flashes of lightning and the wild shrieking of the gale, held no fears for me. Fiercely I shouted my defiance to the elements, as I battled thru the storm. In my delirium I imagined that we were children once more. flfaman stood in the doorway, the golden light of sunset streaming upon her. Mes Clieriesf' she was saying, you have a few moments before bed-time to play in the garden, Pierre, take Louis' hand ml so - and Pierre gurgled in child- ish glee, f'Now big brother will see that you do not fall . ..... . . . I heard the shots of the enemy and felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. My precious burden quivered, and I knew that he too had been hit. But a savage determination rose within me and I ploughed onward, with words of comfort on my lips. Visions of boyhood sprang before my eyes, scenes of peace and happiness. And then, after what seemed to me years of torture, Istumbled into our trench. With a tottering step I strode on, past the inquisitive line of poilus, the lifeless form in my arms, until I reached the dressing station. Throwing open the door, the bright light from within blinded me. Anxious- ly I looked at my loving charge ---. Oh Mon Dieu! I wiped the hot blood from my eyes-my parched lips could scarcely move. The room turned black and the floor gave way beneath me. It was the face of Henri Fournier! 28