Chapter 2 Volume 1 At Sea Chapter 1 Sodley Woods-1

In the last days of May, 1793, an army came to the forbidding Sodre wood in Astiers.They were one of several battalions that came from Paris to Brittany under Santerre, and suffered heavy casualties in the brutal war, and now there are less than three hundred men left.After the battles of Algonne, Yamape, and Valmy, the first battalion of the Paris Volunteers was reduced from the original 600 to 27 men, the second battalion had only 33 men, and the third battalion had only The next fifty-seven people.This is the period of thrilling battles. A total of 912 troops were sent from Paris to the Vendée.Each battalion is equipped with three cannons.Personnel are urgently recruited.On April 25, with Goyer as Minister of Justice and Bushott as Minister of War, the Advisory District proposed sending volunteers to the Vendée region.Luban, member of the Commune, reported that Santerre was ready on May 1; twelve thousand men, thirty field guns and an artillery battalion were dispatched.This swiftly assembled army was better staffed with a change in the ratio of enlisted men to junior officers, and is still regarded as exemplary today.Today, the formation of regular troops is also carried out according to this model.

On April 28, the Paris Commune issued this order to Santerre's volunteer army: "No forgiveness, no mercy. By the end of May, out of the 12,000 who came from Paris, 8,000 had died." . The people from the battalion who walked into the Sodley Woods looked around, looked around, and searched slowly.General Kleber said, "A soldier has eyes in his back." They've been gone a long time.What time is it now?Is it morning or afternoon?Difficult to judge, for in these intertwined thorn bushes it is always dusk and ever dark. Sodderly Woods is a miserable place.It was in these groves that the Civil War began its crimes in November, 1792.It was from this deadly jungle that the murderous crippled Musketon emerged.It is even more shocking that there have been a large number of murders in the forest.it doesn't get any better

① During the French Revolution, Paris was divided into forty-eight administrative regions. ③The Paris Commune of 1789-1795 was a revolutionary city government.The other Paris Commune (1871) was the dictatorship of the proletariat.Scared of the place.The soldiers advanced cautiously.There are flowers everywhere.Surrounded by a thick wall of trembling branches, from which wafts the enchanting fragrance of green leaves, dark green with dappled sunlight.Irises, irises, daffodils, primroses, spring crocuses grew on the ground, and they were the embellishments and lace of this thick carpet of plants, on which mosses of all shapes and sizes were gathered, from caterpillars to stars. .The soldiers pushed aside the branches lightly and crept forward step by step.Birds chirped in the bayonet cube.

In times of peace, people played "Uyshba" in the Sodre Wood, that is, chasing birds in the dark, but now people play chasing people. The jungle is full of birch, beech and oak trees.The ground is flat, and people walk quietly on the bitter burials and thick grass.There are no trails, or there are trails, but they disappear quickly.There are also some sticky leaves in winter and spring, wild blackthorn trees, Tibetan grasses, awn bushes, and tall thorns.People ten paces away cannot see it at all. A heron or black water chicken sometimes flitted among the branches, indicating that a marsh was nearby.

The soldiers were on the march, walking blindly, apprehensive and afraid of bumping into what they were looking for. From time to time, there are traces of the Vision Camp: the ground has been burned, the grass has been trampled flat, there are also crosses made of wooden sticks and blood-stained branches.Someone cooked soup here, mass there, and bandaged the wounded in another.However, the people who passed by here have disappeared without a trace.where are they nowIt may be far away, or it may be close at hand, hiding in the woods holding a short gun.The woods seemed deserted.Soldiers are more vigilant.Desolation arouses suspicion.If you can't see people, you have more reason to be afraid.This is a forest infested by gangsters.

There are likely to be pitfalls here. Thirty elite soldiers, led by a sergeant, went far ahead of the main force to perform reconnaissance missions.The female food vendors accompanying the army walked with them.The female traffickers are happy to go with the advance team. Of course it is risky, but it can open your eyes.Curiosity is a form of female courage. The sudden tremor of the little advance party, which is common to hunters, signaled that the den was approaching.Someone seemed to be breathing in the middle of the bushes, and the leaves seemed to shake a few times.Soldiers gesture to each other.

Officers do not need to intervene while scouts are on guard and search missions.What has to be done is done naturally. In less than a minute, the place where there was movement was surrounded.The soldiers aimed their guns at it, aiming from all sides at the shadowy place in the middle of the thornbush, fingers on the trigger, eyes on it, waiting for the sergeant's order to shoot. At this time, the female salesman bravely looked into the thorns.The sergeant was about to yell "Fire" when the female trafficker yelled: "Stop!" She turned to the soldiers and said, "Don't shoot, comrades."

So she ran into the depths of the jungle.People follow her. There were people there. Deep in the woods there is a small glade, round in shape, left by a charcoal kiln burning tree roots.Beside it, there is a room-like cave formed by the branches, which is ajar like an alcove for a bed.There was a woman, sitting on moss, nursing a baby, and on her lap were two other blond-haired children, sound asleep. This is the trap. "What are you doing here?" the female trafficker shouted. The woman looks up. The saleswoman said angrily again: "You're crazy, stay here!" Then he said:

"You almost died!" She said to the soldiers again: "It's a woman." "Of course we saw it!" said one soldier. The saleswoman continued: "Come to die in the woods! How can you do such a stupid thing!" The woman was terrified, panic-stricken, transfixed, as if in a dream.She looked around, at the spears, sabers, bayonets, and fierce faces. The two children woke up and cried. "I'm hungry," said a child. "I'm afraid," said another child. The youngest child continues to nurse. The saleswoman said to her: "You are the best."

Mother was too scared to speak. The sergeant called to her: "Don't be afraid, we are the Red Beanie Battalion." The woman trembled all over.She looked at the sergeant. It was a rough face, only eyebrows, mustache and eyes like burning coals were visible. "It's the former Red Cross camp," said the female vendor. The sergeant then asked: "Who are you, ma'am?" The woman looked at him in horror.Thin, young, pale, ragged, wearing a Breton peasant woman's thick shawl hood, a blanket tied around her neck, her bare breasts are shown as nonchalantly as a female animal.She was wearing neither socks nor shoes, and her feet were bleeding.

"It's a poor man," said the sergeant. The female salesman asked in a rough voice, but still in a feminine and gentle tone: "What's your name?" The woman murmured a few words, barely audible; "Michelle Fletcher." At this time, the female vendor stroked the baby's small head with her thick hands and asked: "How old is the little guy?" Mother didn't understand.The saleswoman said: "I asked you how old is she?" "Oh!" said the mother, "one and a half years old." "It's big enough," said the saleswoman. "She shouldn't be breastfeeding anymore, she should be weaned. Let's give her soup." Mother began to feel relieved.The two children who woke up were more curious than frightened, admiring the feather ornaments. "Oh!" said the mother, "they are starving." Then he said: "I'm out of milk." "We'll give them something," the sergeant said loudly, "and you too. But one more thing. What's your political opinion?" The woman looked at the sergeant without answering. "Did you hear my question?" The woman stammered: "I was sent to a convent at a young age, but I was married and I'm not a nun. The nuns taught me French. The village was set on fire and we fled in such a hurry that I didn't even have time to put on my shoes." "I'm asking about your political views." "I have no idea." The sergeant added: "Nowadays there are women spies. They are to be shot. Come on, tell me, you are not a Bohemian. Where is your country?" She still looked at him, as if she didn't understand.Middle-earth repeated: "Where is your home country?" "I don't know," she said. "Why, you don't know where your hometown is?" "Oh, my hometown, I know." "Well, where is your hometown?" The woman replied: "The Sisqualia Manor, in the Parish of Arze." This time the sergeant was taken aback.He pondered for a moment and asked: "You mean..." "Sisquania." "That's not the motherland." "That's my hometown." The woman thought for a while and said: "I see, sir, you are French and I am Breton." "So what?" "It's not the same place." "But it's the same country!" cried the sergeant. The woman said again: "I come from Sisqualia." "Sisqualia is Sisqualia. Is your family there?" "yes. "what are they doing?" "They're all dead. I have no family left." The sergeant was a talkative man, and continued the interrogation: "Damn it, you've got relatives, at least you used to. Who are you? Talk." The woman was dumbfounded as she listened. The phrase "at least once upon a time" was not like a human language, but like an animal's roar. The female trafficker felt that she should intervene.She stroked the head of the nursing baby again, and patted the cheeks of the other two. "What's the name of the nursing girl?" she asked. "It's a girl." Mother replied, "Jorget." "Where's the boss? Is this naughty boy a boy?" "René-Jean." "The little one, he is also a boy, with bulging cheeks." "Fat Alan," said the mother. "How wonderful these children are," said the saleswoman, "they are already grown-ups." The sergeant went on to ask: "Tell me, madam, do you have a home?" "Had." "Where?" "In Aze." "Why don't you stay at home?" "The house was burned." "Who did it?" "I don't know. It's war." "Where are you from?" "From there." "where are you going?" "have no idea." "Let's get to the point, who are you?" "have no idea." "You don't know who you are?" "We are refugees." "Which faction are you?" "have no idea." "The Blue Party or the White Party? Who are you with?" "With my children." silence.female dealer said: "I haven't had a baby, I don't have time to have a baby." Middle-earth asked again: "And what about your parents? Listen, ma'am, tell us who your parents are. My name is Radu, I'm Middle Earth, I'm from Shirshmidi Street, where my parents used to be, and I You can talk about my parents. Tell me about yours. Who were they?" "Their name is Fletcher, that's all." "Yes, Fleischer is Flesia, and Radu is Radu, but there must be a job. Your parents' ①The Blue Party is the radical faction during the French Revolution, and the White Party is the Royalist faction.What is your occupation?What was it for?What are you doing now?What are your Fletchers, what are they Fletchers? " "They farmed. My father was disabled and couldn't work. He was rode by the lord—his lord, our lord—and that was kind of a lord's idea, because my father stole a rabbit, which was a death penalty, The master showed kindness and asked his subordinates to hit my father with only one hundred roots, and he has been disabled since then." "anything else?" "My grandfather was a Huguenot, sent to hard labor by the parson. I was very young." "anything else?" "My father-in-law was a private salt dealer and was sent to the gallows by the king." "And what about your husband, what does he do?" "He fought in those days." "Who are you fighting for?" "For the king." "anything else?" "For the Lord Lord." "anything else?" "Monsieur curé." "What a bloody beast!" exclaimed a soldier. The woman was taken aback and looked panic-stricken. "You see, madam, we are Parisians," said the saleswoman kindly. The woman put her hands together and said loudly: "O Lord Jesus Christ!" "Don't be superstitious!" Nakagami said. The saleswoman sat down beside the woman and pulled the oldest child between her knees, and the child obediently obeyed.Children are often inexplicably obedient or fearful, probably with a hint in their hearts. "My poor kind sister-in-law, fellow countryman, how wonderful it is that you have such beautiful children. I can guess their ages, the eldest is four years old, and the younger brother is three years old. Look, this little sucker is really greedy. Oh, kid! Don't gnaw mother like that, okay? I said, don't be afraid, ma'am, you should join our battalion and work like me. My name is Uzard, that's my nickname. I like to call ① French Catholics called Protestants in the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries.Uzard, doesn't like being called Miss Bicorno like my mother.I am a food vendor.When the armies fired at each other and killed each other, the women who gave them drinks were called food sellers, and there were many people who did this.Our feet are about the same size. I'll give you the shoes.August 10th I was in Paris, I gave Westermann a drink, and everything went well.I saw Louis XVI go to the guillotine, Louis Capet as they are called.He doesn't want to.Listen, on January 13th, he still burned chestnuts to eat, laughing and making noises with his family.Afterwards he, too, had to lie down on what we call a rocker, with no frock-coat or shoes, but a shirt, piqué coat, gray tweed shorts, and gray silk stockings.I have seen this with my own eyes.The wagon brought here was painted green.I think you can come to us, this battalion is full of good boys.You come to be the second food vendor, and I will teach you how to do it, oh, it's very simple.You take the barrel and the bell, and you go out into the noise, where the bullets are flying, and you cry out, 'Who wants a drink, boys? 'It couldn't be easier.Me, I give wine to whoever I am, to the whites and to the blues, I am the blues, I am the loyal blues, but my wine is for all.The wounded are always thirsty.There is no point of view in death.People should shake hands when they die.What a fool to fight!You come to us.If I am killed, you will take my place.You see, that's what I am, but I'm a good woman and a straight man.Do not be afraid. "