The death of Henri

The death of Henri

fiction
edward w pritchard

See the Henri and Jules stories same April blog

[For Rod and Bruce always comrades in arms]

Henri was telling Jules his friend for about the twelfth time since they left Paris about the toy sword he had bought his son who was now over 20 years old. On cue Jules said " and when did he walk?" "Walked a 9 months crawled at four months " said Henri the big soldier.

They were marching with Napoleon's army to Moscow, in Russia in 1812. Both had been soldier's for Napoleon for a long time. Jules since 1794 and Henri shortly thereafter. They had been all over Europe and to date their Emperor had been remarkably successful.

Henri was admiring the countryside as he marched. They were in what is now Poland and it was a beautiful day. Their marching line stretched forward 10 miles and back 5. Today they were as safe as in their Mother's arms.

Jules was happy. They were well supplied. Their supply lines were intact and they had meat and biscuits and rice. There were blankets for all and there would be new boots if they stayed here into winter. Jules who had been an officer a few times over the last dozen years didn't like the fact the Henri and others were already thinking of home, talking of their children and wives so early in the march. They had just started this campaign and it wasn't good for veterans to be looking backward toward home already. Still they had been through a lot together and the veterans always came through.

As Henri talked about his wife and children happily Jules noticed that his friend who marched unconsciously in step with him and the others in the ranks was stepping on small insects that seemed to be everywhere they walked today. They must be hatching and thousands filled the ground. Henri was unaware of them and if he noticed them he would try to miss them with his big feet for he hated to hurt animals or other life. A strange way for a solider to be really.

Jules was thinking of lunch. Anymore his appetite peaked early in the day and he was fantasizing of eggs. Fresh eggs, for the peasants near here had plenty. Although the peasants would want to sell them at triple price to the French. Often officers would just take the eggs but Napoleon forbid it for it lead to soldier's being found with their throats slit or worse things. Collectively the French army was invincible but in a strange land anything could happen to one lone soldier. Jules liked his eggs Brittany style. One of the specialties of his homeland.

Jules felt the blast before he saw the flash about 10 feet in front of him and towards his right closer to him than Henri. The French officers had been stealing and appropriating the eggs of the peasants and the people of this town had fired their only canon into the marching French and only Jules and Henri had been hit. Looking over at Henri Jules knew he was dead. The concussion of the exploding cannon shell had killed him. Apparently his head wasn't as hard as he used to joke about for as he hit the ground himself Jules stared at Henri's face and head laying on several of the hatching insects and there wasn't a mark on it. Jules was dazed by the concussion but he was scrambling to his feet to help his friend and prepare for the next shell which wasn't coming for the French regulars had already captured the rebels who had fired the cannon.

Over the next 50 years until his own death Jules would often wonder why Henri had died and he had not. Henri was further away than him from the exploding shell and often before Henri had survived direct hits by canon shells before, some which killed everyone but him. Jules genuinely couldn't understand it. C'est la Guerre said his friend Louis a fellow soldier. God decides these things.