Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1918-01-31
A Real Bed At Last.

When the war broke out, Lieut..
Maurice Genevoix was a second-year
student at the Ecole Normale in Paris.
Now, as veteran Of many cam
paigns, he describes in Meath Yer
dun what one night in real bed
means to the poilus.
After months in the trenches Lieut..
Genevoix and his company find them
selves in a small village behind the
lines. With his friend, Porchon, he
goes to a small house. He says
We are in a smoky kitchen, dimly
lit by a single candle set on the table.
Rrom a line across the room hang
stockings, handkerchiefs, swaddling
clothes, drying above a stove. The
chairs, scattered here and there, are
encumbered with wash basin, a pair
of trousers, some dirty dishes.
Our host is still a young man, sick
ly, pale, thin as a skeleton his
moustache and hair are light-colored.
He offers US his hand, and says
eve have been waiting for you.
Ny wife has prepared beds for you
in that corner there, against those
sacks of bran"
The woman leaves her chair near
the stove, shakes off three or four ur-
chins hanging TO her skirts and raises
the candle from the table.
We can see clearly now. Along the
sides of the plastered wall sacks are
stacked. In these sacks the miller
has placed a plentiful litter of straw
of an even depth all over. On top of
the straw she has placed feather
mattress, blankets and sheets. To-
night we're to have sheets, a real bed.
We're going to undress ourselves, to
lie between two sheets, wearing no
thing but our shirts. steal glance
at Porchon. His face expresses his
unfeigned delight. Suddenly he
places his hand on my shoulder and,
regarding me with affectionate eyes,
says
"You brick ~
Our bed that night was thing nev-
er to be forgotten. UndresSed III a
twinkling of the eye,we plunged into
us from head to foot in a sweet, gen.
tie embrace There was no end to our
surprise each second produced some
new discovery we sought with the
whole of our bodies for some hard
ness, but there was no corner that was
not soft and warm. Our bodies,
remembered all the stones of the field,
all the gaps in the soil, the greasy
humidity of the woods, and the harsh
dryness of the stubble fields our
bodies, bruised by nights of bivouac,
by the straps of our equipment, by
our shoes, by the weight of the KNAPP
sack, by all the harness of wanderers
who knew no roof-our bodies were
unable to swiftly accustom themselves
to so much softness and comfort.
And we broke into shouts of laughter;
we expressed our enthusiasm in bur-
lespue phrases, in formidable pleas
antries, each one of which provoked
new laughter that knew no end. And
the man laughed at seeing us laugh,
and his wife laughed, and the ur-
chins laughed e; the hovel was full of
laughter.
Then the woman stole out, and
when she returned she was escorting
five or six of the neighboring viii
layers. And all these women, too,
watched us laughing, and exclaimed
in astonishment at this phenominal
spectacle-two poor devils so far
scorned by death two soldiers of
the great war who had fought so often,
had suffered so much, delirious now
with happiness, laughing with the
they were sleeping for that one night
in a bed.