Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 September 1882 — HOW HE WON HIS CROSS. [ARTICLE]

HOW HE WON HIS CROSS.

“Come, tell us, sergeant, how did you win voor cross?” This question was put np by one of & number of young soldiers who stood around Sergeant Manchot in the grounds of the Invalides. The person addressed was an old, one-armed man, who seemed to think that a certain air of fierce, unsmiling gravity most became a soldier of the empire; bat who, it was well known, hid one of the kindliest hearts under the outer form of stem severity. On being thus questioned, he took a well-used pipe from his mouth, slowly puffed out a column of smoke, 4 rew himself as erect as age would permit iim, and replied: “Won my oross? Yes, mon enfant, yon say right; in those days we had to win a cross—it was not given. It was worth winning, too. We didn’t, with the Emperor, gain glory by fighting against one another. There were no barricades then—no battles in the streets -of Paris. That great man, so wonderful in his genius, so indomitable in his courage, who always conquered, would not allow it; and let me tell you no one dared to do what he said he should not —he soon made short work.

“Ah! those were the days when we "knew what true freedom was. There were none of your Republicans, your Orleanists, your old or your new parties. We were all Frenchmen then—Frenchmen, do you hear me, my children ? It was against the enemies of la belle France we fought—against those who Rated the great nation because it was so glorious. , “ Yes, it was against them we Frenohmen always fought; and when traitors did not betray us we always conquered. They could never defeat him, the Emperor, by fair means. Ah, with what glory he covered France ! ” The old man’s eyes glistened with enthusiasm, and his face glowed. “But all this is changed now,” continued the old soldier in a mournful tone. “ France, shame upon her I does not care what her enemies dff. The Grand Army is no more. But you wish to know how I gained my cross. Well, I will tell you, for it will show you what a man the Emperor was.

“It was the 6th of November. For a long time our march had been full of glory. The enemy had fled before us, for whenever he tried to stand we defeated him. We had reached Moscow—that fatal city. We were to have wintered there. But what did these cowardly villains of Russia do ? Why, as you know, they burnt down their town.” ‘‘We were compelled to retreat; and a terrible march we had had, what with frost, snow and hunger. It was the 6th of November, I say. We had just fought the battle of Viazma, and won it of ' course. The Emperor, in his order of nths day, said we had annihilated the fchemy. Still we had to retreat, not before the Russians—no, we had crushed them, I tell you—but before the weather; it was terrible. Oh, what frost! It froze the very marrow in our bones. Oh, what snow ! It cut our skins ; it blinded ns; we sank in it to our knees as we marched. We had been en route since € o’clock, and it was now past noon. An awful march it was. The ground over which we passed was strewn with our dead and dying. Not that we saw much of the foe—no, those we had not killed knew too well what they would get if they .same near us. It was that terrible cold and the empty stomaohs that did lor us. When tliese made any fall behind the rascally Cossaoks, hanging all around us like a swarm of bees, either killed and plundered them, or, if they were at all able to walk, Btnpped them, and then, tying them to their horses, made them run at their sides till they dropped from cold, hunger and fatigue. “ Many of the officers and men in my company had thus perished. All were dispirited—no song, no shout, no joke, and, what was worse than all, no grumbling. The snllenness and recklessness of utter despair had taken hold of us. “ Our Captain was a terrible little man—not a braver one than he in the whole army. And then, you see, we were all brave. He did not stand more than so high” (pointing to his shoulder), “ but he would have his own way—he made us do it; if he said no, it was no ; if yes, then yes; he would not change.

fe called him Oapt Tetu, and, my faith! was a good name, for he was obstinate. f

“He had been a stout, red-faced man; but now, how changed I—thin, pale ana haggard. Nothing could, however, drive away his look of firmness. He was hardly able to keep np with us; but he was determined not to give in as long as he had life, and so on and still on he crawled. He had wrapped his shoeless ► feet in his handkerchiefs, which were now deeply stained with the blood *that dozed from his wounds. Two or three times I had offered him my arm for his support, bnt he had refuted it angrily. “ ‘ What!’ said he, *do jpn think I can’t walk as well as another? Am I a child ? Every one needs all his strength for himself.’ “At last he told me if I dared to both* er him with my offers to assist him he would have me punished severely. 8o what could I do ?—he always meant what he said. But, obstinate as he was, he could not hold out any longer. With a faint cry of, * Ah, it is all over with me! Yive l’Empereur !’ he fell on the snow. “ ‘AU over, my Captain ? oh, no, not while Corporal Manohot is here 1’ “‘Why, who is that? Is that you, Manchot? You are not with your regiment, how is that ? Leave me; my battles are all fought. But stay; here, take my cross and my purse, there is not much in it. I wish for her sake there was more, but the Emperor will not forget her when you reach France. Ah, la belle Franoe! I shall not see yon agaiml Go to Voroppe, near Grenoble ; there you will find an old woman 82 years of age; it is Madame Marlen, my mother. Kiss her for me on both cheeks, give her the purse and cross, and tell her how I died. Yive la France! Vive 1’ Empereur! Now go—join your company, Adieu—go.’ “ ‘ Not unless I take you with me. Come.’ ‘“Come! How can I come? Fool that you are, doß*t you see I cannot walk, or do you think I should be lying here?’ ‘“Nevertheless, come.’ With that I lifted him on my shonlder. “‘What are you 4 oin ß? Pat me down, I tell you; put me down.’ “ ‘ Put you down? What! to lie and die on the snow, or to be murdered by those thieves of Cossacks ahd then stripped? Oh, no, Captain, I shall not do that; yon need not ask me.’ “ ‘ Impudent rasoal that you are ! I do not ask you, I order you; disobey me at your peril.' “ ‘Excuse me, Captain, yon need not trouble yourself to speak. See, you can do nothing—you are too weak to struggle.’ “ ‘ What! am I not to beobeyed ? Ah I if I survive this day you shall suffer for it. By the word of Capt. Tetu you shall.’ “‘Survive! Why not? Of course you shall I’ll carry you safe. Survive! ma foi 1 And L Corporal Manohot, here!’ “ 4 Villain! lay m 9 down, I say. What? you won’t. Oh, you know you would not dare to treat me so if I was strong; bnt, alas! lam weak, and yon take a base advantage of me.’ “ ‘ Well, Captain, let me have my own way now; when you are strong again I will obey you, as 1 have always done.’ ‘“Rascal that you are !’ “All this while I was trudging on as well as I could, and that was very badly. It was hard enough to walk when I had only myself to carry, bnt with the Captain on my shoulders it was a little more difficult. My company was now out of sight; it was of no use trying to overtake them—that was Impossible. All around me stretched an immense, treeless, snow-covered plain. Nothing was to be seen upon its wild waste but the black patches and the little mounds which showed where the dead and dying were. In the far distance, against the snow-laden horizon, I could see a few moving specks, which I soon discovered were a number of Cossacks; who, at a gallop, were swiftly drawing nearer to me.

“ ‘Ah ! then it is over with us, Captain,’ said I; but he made no answer; he was insensible. ‘ Well,’ said I to myself, ‘ I am not going to die, nor to let him neither, without a good hard struggle for it; that would not become a soldier of the empire. No; if they come near me it will cost some of those vile Cossaoks dear ; they shall know what a Frenchman can do; I will stop that abominable hurrah of one or two of them, or my name is not Manchot.’ “ I had not much time to think, for they drew quickly nearer, with that wild, wretched yell of theirs. Call them soldiers! Bah 1 nasty, dirty, savagelooking fellows ; with their bony, ragged, ugly little horses. Why, they were only fit to "kill the wounded and the dying—to injure and plunder those who could not help themselves—not to fight against Frencnmen. “ Well, but what was Itodo ? I laid the Captain down, and covered him over with the snow as well as I could. Then, seeing a number of corpses lying together in a heap, I went and laid down among them, pretending that I too was dead. “The better to hide myself, I turned over a body, and was horrified to find it was that of an old oomrade of mine, who had fought by my side on the glorious field of Austerlitz, Sergeant Subra. A braver and better soldier there was not in the whole Grand Army. At any other time I should have been much grieved, but now all my thoughts were taken up with how was Ito escape the enemy. So I crept as well as I could under the corpse of the sergeant. The Cossacks were on us. Never did I think myself so near death as then. They galloped right over us, and in doing so the hoof of one of the horses came down upon me, and mashed my left arm. Ah 1

my children, yon may be sure it was not easy for me to keep from calling ont—: the agony van very great To keep in the cry that seemed to force itself from my heart, I almost bit my lips through. Well, having done what mischief they cftild on horseback, they passed on—those murdering, thieving villains.

“I then ventured to look up from my hiding-place. Stkll, as I thought at first, were gone. I was glad of this, for what can one man, with a broken arm, do against a hundred with two arms and on horseback? As I cautiously looked around, still lying where I had hid—for I was too old a soldier to betray myself until I knew that the whole coast was clear—l saw that one of the enemy still remained behind—a big, ugly scoundrel, who, dismounted and leading his horse, was at this time bent on the plunder of an officer. At this sight my anger made me forget mv pjvin. I felt hurt that so pitiful a villain should have it in his power to injnxb a brave man. “‘Ah 1’ I said to myself softly, ‘if I, Corporal Manchot, can help it, yon shall never boast of what you are now doing.* So I seized a musket with my right hand, loaded it and prepared to take aim. In doing this I made some noise which alarmed the thief; he started, listened, rose from his knees and looked around, bnt saw nothing. Not satisfied with that, he walked round the heap where I lay, at only a few yards’ distance. You may think I did not make any noise # then. I even breathed as lightly as I could. He saw—he heard nothing, so, with his confidence restored, he went baek to finish the work. With that I lifted my musket—bnt if yon ever should try to lift your mnsket to your shoulder to take aim with your left arm shattered you will find it a very awkward thing to do. “My instinct—the instinct of a veteran, see you—told me that, so I did not try, bnt iested my musket on the body of a dead comrade and took aim—very good, yon may be sore, for my life deE ended on it—fired—when bang;! his attics were all over, as the Captain had said to himself; he leaped np, flung out his arms and fell dead.

“ This raised my spirits—it somehow seemed a good omen to me {hat I should escape. But how? Ah! I did not see that. I returned to where I had buried the Captain in the snow—dug him outtried all I could to lift him again on my shonlder, but could not do it because of my broken arm. While I was endeavoring to raise him, my pulling him about revived him—he opened his eyes and saw me leaning over him. At first he did not understand how thinks were, but soon, recollecting himself, he said with as strong a voice as he oonld, though that was very weak: “ * What, corporal, you here still! Am I then not to be obeyed ? Did I not tell you to leave me and join your cornmany ? Why, if these things are allowed, there will soon be no discipline in the army! If I live yon shall be soundly punished—you shall, on the word of Capt. Tetu.’

“ This persistency of his displeased me, so I replied to Mm more sharply than I should : * “ ‘Ma foi ! Captain, if you are going to be so obstinate, Manchot will imitate you, or he is not a corporal in the Grand Army. If you stay here, he stays too, so say no more about it; what I have said I will do.’ “He looked offended, but said nothing—poor fellow, for he soon became insensible again. Night was now fast coming on, so I went and gathered as many cloaks a 9 I could—alas ! there was no scarcity of them—and wrapped him in them. “Then I sought for something to eat. “It was well I had finished off the Cossack, for I found on him a flask of brandy, which he had evidently taken from one of our officers, and some bread. “ Returning to the Captain, I poured a little spirits down his throat, which revived him ; I then made him eat and drink, and took some bread and brandy myself. It was now dark, and there was nothiag for me to do but wait till morning, to see what that would bring forth. I knew the rear-guard of the army was not past, and had some hopes that we might be pioked up by them. “ Never shall I forget the fearful horrors of that night. It never ceased to Bnow. The cold seemed to pierce into one’s very vitals, and freeze up the marrow in our bones, and the blood in the heart. Nothing was to be heard but the growling of the wolves and the gnashing of their jaws, as thev gorged themselves on the plentiful banquet which lay around. I felt the frost was gradually mastering me, and that it would soon numb all my limbs. I was certain I could ndt hold out muoh longer, so, recalling the few simple old prayers which I had learnt from the good cure when I was a boy, I fell on my knees and repeated them. This seemed to give me new strength.

“Depend upon it, children, there is nothing will so revive a man as prayer. What, young wiseacre, you are sneering at that, are you? You think I am very foolish, do yon? Well, wait till you have gone through as much as I have, and faced death and danger as often, and perhaps you will think as I do. By the time I had finished my prayers, morn* ing began to dawn. Tne snow had ceased for a little. Through the dimness of the early dawn I saw a group of French officers at a distance. To draw their attention I shouted as loudly as I could, and jumped up. They drew near. “ * Halloa! how is this? Why are you n °t with the army ?’ said a short, de-terpained-looking man, dressed in a light gtay overcoat lined with fur. “Yes, young hope of your country, it was the Emperor! and Ido not expect France will ever give you such a General to fight under. It was the Emperor,

but I did not know ii He was the last man I should have expected to see there, bo I replied: “‘Why am loot with the army} Look hero,’ pointing to the Captain and my arm, ‘with this more, and this less, how oould I be? I wish with all my heart I was there instead of here. * “ ‘Sire.’ Ah! then I knew it was the Emperor, that bravest of the brave, that truest of the true, that wisest of the wise. I did not know what to do or say, so I gave him the salute as well as my benumbed and stiffened limbs would allow. ‘ Sire,’ said one of the suit, * I saw this man yesterday carrying an offioer on his back.’ v *“ Is it so, corporal ?’ ‘“Sire, my General, what oonld I do? The Captain could not walk; he fell down. Was Ito leave him to die, or to be murdered by those oowards of Cossacks ? I know it was wrong, and I did it in spite of his orders—he was very angry with me; but I oonld not help it, so I tried to carry him. The Cossacks rode over me and broke my arm; I could do no more. Pardon me, Sire,’

•“The Emperor smiled; yes, my children, he smiled (here the veteran’s eyes glowed with honest pride at the remembrance) —he smiled at me, Corporal Manohot, and, taking a huge pinch of snuff, said:

“ ‘ It is well, very well, my brave fel low ’ —that to me, yes, to me who now stand before yon —‘ it is well, very well, my brave fellow ’ —those were his very words; as I heard them, I forgot my cold, my hanger and the pain of my arm. “ ‘ See here, this is for you ’ —with that he opened his coat, took from his breast the cross, and pinned it on mine. Oh, what joy! what ecstasy! what pride ! Decorated ! and with the Emperor’s own oross! “He then called to Davoust, and ordered that I and the still-insensible Captain should be carried forward in his own wagon.. So I escaped from the horrors of that retreatr bom Russia—but not from the punishment the Captain had threatened me with. As soon as he found that he and I were safe with our regiment, he plaoed me under arrest for fourteen days, for what, he said, had been a gross breach of discipline. Ah! be always fulfilled his promise, did Capt Tetu—die is a General now. “ What he had done to me was told the Emperor. I have heard he was muoh amused; he ordered my release, at the same time raising me to the rank of Sergeant. That, mea enfanta, is how I won my cross. The ribbon I wear here, where every one may see it; the oross lies next my heart, where it shall always be in life and in death.”—CaaaelVa Magazine.