New-York tribune., 1917-07-29
"Piin | Piinard," the Poilus Friend


clarion voice:
Now for the pinard!"
Three days after an announcement
of this sort assisted at true drama
of war in which pinard played its role
"a drama at once poignant and comic.
II was at M, ten kilometres be-
hind the lines. 1t was a beautifully
clear day, with keen wind which
blew into ones eyes the dust from the
roads and fields, as if to say: Il am
spring A spoiled child. Look out for
mel Look o1t for mel" 1t ruffied the
new leaves of the poplar trees, and the
horses, their coats roughened, recoiled
before it, prancing, while the men
grumbled "Why should the good
Lord send US such weather."
But the stupefying thing was that
this sort of tempest ragged only on the
earth's surface, and far above US, in
sky Of virginia. purity, we had the an
noyance of seeing some German Iaubes
ly over us, perfectly tranquil, out of
the range of the wind, without pitch
ing, making their evolutions unhin-
dered. Our anti-aircraft guns fired
without reaching them. Redoubling
their audacity, they advanced until
they were directly above the supply
station. We had just begun that seri-
Gus ceremony which is known as the
apportionment of the pinard.
The huge tun being on the platform,
after the officer has said, "Are they
there ?" a man advances, dragging an
ircn tube, which wriggles over the
ground like serpent. In civil life he
is a wine grower. He wears Basque
cap and is familiar with all the wines
cf the Midi lie screws the tube to the
spigot. Then, with legs spread apart
and sleeves tucked up, opening the
leather cock. which is enormous and
discharges about quart second, ne
commences to fill the cans, buckets and
tubs with smooth and marvellous
pinard.
The men designated by their regi-
rents or their companies to come and
get it look at it run and foam in a
sort Of religious stupefaction. Ihey
press against one another TO be served
first; but they do not push hard for
fear that a bucket may be upset. 1t
makes them sick at heart to see some
quarts Of it leak away into the. ground.
When they drink it they growl, what
slops!" But when it is spilled they
are sorrowful and say: "Ah, to waste
good pinard like that!"
They have their eyes fixed on it.
Hands in their pockets, cigarettes be
tween their lips, they admire II, walt
ing their turn. They do not notice
the Taubes. One is Obliged 10 De
rough with them, to scream IN their
ears: ~
"You blockheads; get under covert"
Then they lift their noses.
"What, for the Boche up there? Let
him drop his bombs where he will"
The man with the serpentine tube
hurries their movements.
"Quick, 32d Hussars; for you, forty
litres!"
The red wine, which foams rose col
ored, with all the shades Of the vintage,
runs with redoubled eagerness. But
the voice recommences:
"You crowd Of idiots, get under
covert"
sergeant, there are left only the
Pioneers and the I'd Cuirassiers. Come
on, then, I'd Cuirassiers; for you, forty
three litresl"
"For heavens sake. I tell you
FIR! Pangg! One bomb! Pangg!
Pangg! A second! And pangg A
third! Before the men, stupefed and
glued to their places, can catch their
breath.
Now, like frightened chickens, they
awkwardly stampede and upset one an
other. Only one is hit-the man with
the Basque cap, VINO was making the
distribution.
How badly is he hurt? Nobody knows
yet. His leg is bleeding. He lies down:
He examines himself He is pale and
in a semi-stupor. The sergeant ap-
proaches him breathlessly:
"You got it, didn't you? Great heav-
ems, and told YOU
The officer comes, shouting:
"Quiet there! Quiet! No panic! No
panic! Get back to your places. It's
all over. You see that they have gone
away, the swinel"
He points with his stick to the
Taubes, which have made circle and
ere flying away toward the German
lines. Then he bends down over the
Wounded man.
at is you, then, wounded? All, it
isn't serious, old fellow. Let me see it
The man Is stretched alongside the
cssk, the enormous cask, which, heaven
be thanked. is untouched. Jnd which in
the sunshine casts on the neighboring
embankment the shadow of its superb
ard imposing girth.
At first the poor fellow makes no
answer. Then, in a troubled, trembling
voice-the voice Of a man wounded, but
still feeling his responsibility-he
murmurs:
"Oh, it's all right, lieutenant. II will
be- all right, so long as the pinard is
safe"