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OpenCV: Computer Vision
Projects with Python
BIRMINGHAM - MUMBAI
OpenCV: Computer Vision Projects with Python
All rights reserved. No part of this course may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written
permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in
critical articles or reviews.
Every effort has been made in the preparation of this course to ensure the accuracy
of the information presented. However, the information contained in this course
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Publishing, and its dealers and distributors will be held liable for any damages
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However, Packt Publishing cannot guarantee the accuracy of this information.
ISBN 978-1-78712-549-0
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Credits
Reviewers
David Millán Escrivá
Abid K.
Will Brennan
Gabriel Garrido Calvo
Pavan Kumar Pavagada Nagaraja
Marvin Smith
Jia-Shen Boon
Florian LE BOURDAIS
Steve Goldsmith
Rahul Kavi
Scott Lobdell
Vipul Sharma
Preface
OpenCV is an open-source, cross-platform library that provides building blocks
for computer vision experiments and applications. It provides high-level interfaces
for capturing, processing, and presenting image data. For example, it abstracts
details about camera hardware and array allocation. OpenCV is widely used in
both academia and industry. Today, computer vision can reach consumers in many
contexts via webcams, camera phones, and gaming sensors such as the Kinect.
For better or worse, people love to be on camera, and as developers, we face a
demand for applications that capture images, change their appearance, and extract
information from them. OpenCV's Python bindings can help us explore solutions to
these requirements in a high-level language and in a standardized data format that is
interoperable with scientific libraries such as NumPy and SciPy.
This course is specifically designed to teach the following topics. First, we will
learn how to get started with OpenCV and OpenCV 3's Python API, and develop
a computer vision application that tracks body parts. Then, we will build amazing
intermediate-level computer vision applications such as making an object disappear
from an image, identifying different shapes, reconstructing a 3D map from images,
and building an augmented reality application. Finally, we'll move to more advanced
projects such as hand gesture recognition, tracking visually salient objects, as well as
recognizing traffic signs and emotions on faces using support vector machines and
multi-layer perceptron respectively.
[i]
Preface
Module 2, OpenCV with Python By Example, this module covers various examples at
different levels, teaching you about the different functions of OpenCV, and their
actual implementations.
Module 3, OpenCV with Python Blueprints, this module intends to give the tools,
knowledge, and skills you need to be OpenCV experts and this newly gained
experience will allow you to develop your own advanced computer vision
applications.
The hardware requirement being a webcam (or camera device), except for Chapter
2, Hand Gesture Recognition Using a Kinect Depth Sensor , of the 3rd Module which
instead requires access to a Microsoft Kinect 3D Sensor or an Asus Xtion.
All projects can run on any of Windows, Mac, or Linux, and they require the
following software packages:
[ ii ]
Preface
• NumPy 1.9.2 or later: This package for scientific computing officially comes
in 32-bit format only, and can be obtained from http://www.scipy.org/
scipylib/download.html. The installation instructions can be found at
http://www.scipy.org/scipylib/building/index.html#building.
wxPython 2.8 or later: This GUI programming toolkit can be obtained from
http://www.wxpython.org/download.php. Its installation instructions are given
at http://wxpython.org/builddoc.php.
• SciPy 0.16.0 or later: This scientific Python library officially comes in 32-
bit only, and can be obtained from http://www.scipy.org/scipylib/
download.html. The installation instructions can be found at http://www.
scipy.org/scipylib/building/index.html#building.
• matplotlib 1.4.3 or later: This 2D plotting library can be obtained from
http://matplotlib.org/downloads.html. Its installation instructions
can be found by going http://matplotlib.org/faq/installing_faq.
html#how-to-install.
• libfreenect 0.5.2 or later: The libfreenect module by the OpenKinect project
(http://www.openkinect.org) provides drivers and libraries for the
Microsoft Kinect hardware, and can be obtained from https://github.
com/OpenKinect/libfreenect. Its installation instructions can be found at
http://openkinect.org/wiki/Getting_Started.
Finally, if you are looking for help or get stuck along the way, you can go for several
websites that provide excellent help, documentation, and tutorials:
[ iii ]
Preface
OpenCV's applications are humongous and this Learning Path is the best resource to
get yourself acquainted thoroughly with OpenCV.
Reader feedback
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this course—what you liked or disliked. Reader feedback is important for us as it
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[ iv ]
Preface
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[v]
Preface
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[ vi ]
Module 1: OpenCV Computer Vision with Python 1
Chapter 1: Setting up OpenCV 3
Choosing and using the right setup tools 4
Running samples 16
Finding documentation, help, and updates 17
Summary 18
Chapter 2: Handling Files, Cameras, and GUIs 19
Basic I/O scripts 19
Project concept 26
An object-oriented design 27
Summary 36
Chapter 3: Filtering Images 37
Creating modules 37
Channel mixing – seeing in Technicolor 38
Curves – bending color space 42
Highlighting edges 51
Custom kernels – getting convoluted 52
Modifying the application 55
Summary 56
Chapter 4: Tracking Faces with Haar Cascades 57
Conceptualizing Haar cascades 58
Getting Haar cascade data 59
Creating modules 60
Defining a face as a hierarchy of rectangles 60
Tracing, cutting, and pasting rectangles 61
Adding more utility functions 63
Tracking faces 64
[i]
Table of Contents
Summary 213
Chapter 7: Detecting Shapes and Segmenting an Image 215
Contour analysis and shape matching 215
Approximating a contour 219
Identifying the pizza with the slice taken out 221
How to censor a shape? 225
What is image segmentation? 229
Watershed algorithm 233
Summary 235
Chapter 8: Object Tracking 237
Frame differencing 237
Colorspace based tracking 240
Building an interactive object tracker 242
Feature based tracking 248
Background subtraction 253
Summary 257
Chapter 9: Object Recognition 259
Object detection versus object recognition 259
What is a dense feature detector? 263
What is a visual dictionary? 267
What is supervised and unsupervised learning? 271
What are Support Vector Machines? 271
How do we actually implement this? 273
Summary 285
Chapter 10: Stereo Vision and 3D Reconstruction 287
What is stereo correspondence? 287
What is epipolar geometry? 292
Building the 3D map 300
Summary 307
Chapter 11: Augmented Reality 309
What is the premise of augmented reality? 309
What does an augmented reality system look like? 310
Geometric transformations for augmented reality 311
What is pose estimation? 313
How to track planar objects? 314
How to augment our reality? 324
Let's add some movements 330
Summary 336
[ iv ]
Other documents randomly have
different content
them, cynically letting them in for endless fatigues. I bore him all the
more ill-will for it, because, for a long time, I had thought I
recognised a kindred spirit in him. Nothing had awakened in him—a
proof that there was nothing lying dormant in him. What a hideous
vision he afforded me of what I might have been.
Let there be no mistake about it. What annoyed us most about them
all was the sight of their flabbiness and slackness. Since Spincourt
they had chucked the whole show and were continually saying that
they didn't care a blow what happened!
Their corporals were decent fellows and partially succeeded in
making up for their deficiencies. Their men were no worse than
most. But in spite of it their lack of authority came nigh to being
disastrous on several occasions. To begin with, it was an admitted
fact that in their platoon they might get drunk with impunity. I
remember the stink of wine and vomiting which rose from the
stables where their men were billeted. How could De Valpic's have
escaped the infection? Ravelli, who had been put up to it by the
others, was always down on him. Playoust was charmed when the
soldiers and the inhabitants were at loggerheads with each other. He
tacitly encouraged the foraging and marauding that went on. Some
of his poilus were mixed up in the rows at Béthaincourt.
Here is another occurrence which will serve to illustrate the different
attitudes of mind. One grilling afternoon when we were passing the
train of company waggons, the captain took it upon himself to give
the most exhausted men permission to put their packs in the
waggons. Our men were too proud. Their packs! They were quite
capable of carrying them themselves, thanks! In the first platoon the
N.C.O.'s were the first to unballast themselves; first, ten, then
fifteen, then thirty of the men copied them. When that waggon was
full, what should these fine gentlemen do, but set to work calmly to
fill the next one that came along, which belonged to No. 20
company. The commanding officer, when he heard about it, came
rushing up, inquired into the matter, bellowed like a bull and
cancelled the permission. Our men chuckled over the occurrence.
The others were furious: He'd better not bully them! Get away with
him. They were fed up!
As the retirement went on the "set" kept up a stream of grumbles.
The marches were too long. Poor reservists, we were being killed!
Why did we halt so far from any well? Was it true that all the filth
was thrown into them? Why was our company always given the
most disgusting quarters? It was not surprising! Our captain didn't
get on with any one! Who had to pay? We of course! And the
baksheesh? Who got the baksheesh? As there wasn't even a ration
of brandy every day.
After "Beauclair" things got even worse. We only caught scraps of
their declamations because they put on the soft pedal when they
saw us coming, just as they did with the officers. Playoust among
others was particularly good at posing as an excellent fellow who
was never put out by anything. But out of the reach of "tell-tales"
and "busy-bodies," their evil tongues wagged busily.
It was sickening! they declared. The commanding officers were the
outside limit! According to them our brigadier-general, an old
Colonial, drank. The colonel was the kind of man to get us all hacked
to pieces for the sake of keeping up his reputation for bravery. They
gave us to understand they were delighted to see him wounded, and
they would have been even more so if he had not been replaced by
that old "dug-out." For that matter, you only need look at the result
in order to see what our leaders were! Hopeless! If we weren't done
for we deserved to be. Marches and counter-marches, bad
management. We could hold the Bosches when we got them to
grips. There was nothing to beat a French soldier! But as for
preparation. Blimey! The slackers who had to look after that!
Descroix cast up his eyes, swearing that those responsible would be
found among the old ministers and present deputies. He foretold
retaliation in the shape of lawsuits, or riots. Why was there such a
lack of heavy artillery, of machine-guns, of searchlight apparatus,
and armoured cars? Why did we see nothing of the aeroplanes
whose praises we had had drummed into our ears for years?
We were getting near to all the senseless recriminations of 1870. But
they were not quite so serious this time, in spite of everything. They
did not accuse Poincaré of having been bribed, or Joffre of being a
traitor. They did not even go so far as to say that this war was
absurd or unjust. We had to defend ourselves, after all! The most
bitter complaints were of incompetence, and of the lack of foresight.
Enough to be demoralising!
They made tremendous fun of Ravelli and his fears, which they
shared at the bottom. Especially the spies! They passed on their
superstitious terror to their men. There could be nothing more
depressing for them than to feel they were surrounded by a vague
throng of enemies. It was like asking for hysterics. I remember how
on the morning we were guarding part of the Meuse, a group of
refugees from Montmédy came up, a family of five, including two
children who implored us to help them across. They were fortunate
in finding us. We showed them a ford and had them taken to the
C.O. A little farther up the poor wretches had come across some
men out of Playoust's platoon, who had insulted them and
threatened to shoot them.
And then there were the false reports, the pseudo-news, invented or
rumoured, but always bad: Italy entering the lists against us, or
England's dilatoriness. We should have to pay damages! Or else, one
way of getting out of it would be to leave our friends, the Russians,
in the lurch. Not a thing to boast about, perhaps! But it would cut
short this war, and they were fed up with it!
I am not exaggerating. They descended to these depths of ignominy.
They were more at ease with De Valpic who slept with them, and he
reported similar conversations. It did not do to attach too much
importance to it. There was probably a good deal of "side" about it.
They were so jealous of us. Or perhaps they thought it fine to pose,
on their side, as people who were not to be humbugged, or again it
might be simply the inconsequence of men who did not quite realise
the situation, or the meaning of their words. Each of them egged the
others on.
And to think—De Valpic inclined to the idea—that they were without
doubt excellent Frenchmen, who, when it came to getting killed,
would do the thing in style!
In any case nothing exasperated Guillaumin like their attitude. He
announced his intention of going to the C.O. to get him to put an
end to the scandal, at least twenty times. We restrained him, being
opposed to all tale-telling. We endeavoured to prove to him that
their wild talk had no effect. Playoust had had the reputation of
being a wag ever since the beginning. None of the men would take
his nonsense seriously.
Guillaumin did not give in:
"You'll see!" he said. "You don't realise that all that eats away and
undermines.... It is bound to show itself in time!"
It was true enough! What a difference there was in the morale of
the two platoons.
In ours, for instance, nobody ever reported sick unless he was
suffering tortures. They made it a point of personal pride. In theirs,
on the contrary! One morning, Guillaumin, who was sergeant of the
day, had put down eight men for medical parade. A mere trifle! He
calmly undertook to cure them all by suggestion. His chief argument
was that they would have to foot it for about five and a half miles, to
reach the Medical Officer. Five of the men had their names
scratched; the rest stuck to it. It happened to be one of Bouchut's
bad days and he sent them all off with a flea in their ear.
And when we stormed Beauclair, what a tragic exhibition they gave
of themselves. When we left the wood in extended order, ready to
charge, we looked round for No. 1 platoon, which was to support us
on our right. Not a sign of it to be seen. It made a cruel impression
on us just as we were starting off with fixed bayonets. At last we
saw Lieutenant Delafosse come out leading a handful of men,
among them De Valpic and his half-section. Behind, a long way
behind, was Humel. We charged and saw no more of them. In the
uproar which followed upon the occupation of the village, the
incident passed more or less unnoticed. But we learnt that the C.O.
had rated Delafosse for it roundly. The latter, throwing off his
reserve, frankly laid the blame on some of his N.C.O.'s who lacked
go.... That was putting the case very mildly! De Valpic assured me
that he had heard Descroix putting the drag on his men's eagerness.
"Don't hurry lads! The first lot will be napoohed!"
Here again no penalties were inflicted; they would have been too
terrible. The well-known sentence for every weakness in military law
is: DEATH.
This leniency was perhaps to be blamed. Who can say what an ill-
omened influence our comrades exercised during the days that
followed? It was the most gloomy period of all. We abandoned first-
rate positions without fighting. It was impossible to rely on any
favourable information, however slight. Rumours circulated, and
were added to, concerning our reverse in the North. The
replenishment of munitions which had up till then been well-
organised was failing. We were, as I have said, repeatedly in danger
of being cut off, or of getting under fire from the pursuing batteries.
Villages blazed behind us, or even on our flank—a palpable danger
for our retreat. The ditches too were filled with soldiers, belonging
chiefly to the regulars. Who could blame them for it? Boys of twenty,
worn out by four weeks' overdriving, sleeping there, by the
roadsides, for days and nights on end.
It was a bad example though. The temptation to copy them was so
great. There were no more mounted police on the heels of the
stragglers. Even they were fighting, so we were told.
That was how our numbers dwindled. We had realised the danger,
and our efforts were combined in preventing any men from staying
behind. We kept on urging them: "Come along now! Only a few
miles more. You surely don't want to fall into the hands of the
Huns!" And we laid to their charge abominable atrocities surpassed
by reality.
At last we reached our goal. We lost only five men out of the platoon
during that week, two of whom were ill, and two wounded. What
leakage there was in No. 1 company! We got the exact figures from
the quartermaster-sergeant, who had to draw up the numerical
returns each evening. Breton stormed, excellent fellow that he was!
"Hang it all! Poilus are too precious to lose!"
One evening in Descroix's platoon only twenty-nine men were left,
out of thirty-five the day before, and Breton cynically sneered: "Six
more done a bunk!"
CHAPTER VI
THE POILUS
Yes, Guillaumin had been quite right! Ever since we had rejoined at F
—— his one care had been the morale of the men! On that, indeed,
depended the fate of the country, united with that of the present
campaign. And this morale, in its turn, depended partly on us, in
view of our responsibility.
A task which was quite new to me. I have said how, at our
departure, I could not conceive myself taking an interest in these
dolts. Yes! But had I not felt them quiver as they marched at my
side through the horror of the fire? The praise surprised on their lips
that evening had made my heart beat—reciprocal esteem—and I had
dreamt of something more.
During the long parches I took steps to get into touch with them, to
overcome their shyness, the remains of their distrust. I was not
afraid of showing a few of them what was in my heart. One of these
was Icard, the miller, a steady, quiet fellow, whose good sense had
struck me on several occasions. Under the present circumstances,
the footing we were usually on, I said, was not enough. Complete
harmony of mind and heart between us all seemed to me necessary
for our common safety.
"We're fond enough of you, already, sergeant!"
I smiled.
"Fonder than you were at the beginning?"
"Yes, then we weren't exactly struck on you."
I think he was speaking at his comrades. Their instinct must have
made them realise my friendly intentions. They quickly became more
familiar and expansive. The last barrier had fallen.
I again appreciated Guillaumin's perspicuity. According to him these
people dreaded betraying whatever tenderness and delicacy was
aroused in them, by putting it into words. They were shy of talking
about themselves, and expanded more willingly on a thousand and
one abstract subjects. I had resigned myself to listening to an
endless flow of words and pointless tales. They were flattered by my
attention, and I was surprised to find them ten times less childish
and narrow in their talk than many drawing-room conversationalists.
It was the taste, innate in the French, for discussion and reasoning.
Penetration and logic are ordinary qualities in them. Icard laid before
me his views on the questions which impassioned him: agricultural
economy, modern implements, the introduction of new crops, the
causes and consequences of the population of the country districts,
the remedies to be applied to it—all problems of vital importance to
the nation. I who claimed to be so eclectic had to blush for myself
because I had never considered them.
With him, and with some of the others, I took a delight in broaching
the subject of socialistic doctrines. We were at one in our premises.
Starting from that point I used to get them to talk, curious to see
how much electioneering patter they had retained. More than mere
words, in any case! Some of them were imbued with the party point
of view. Each of them, for that matter, followed wherever his
temperament led him. Prunelle, the jeweller, favoured the view that
the state should interfere as little as possible with individual
enterprise. Icard, for his part, was a staunch advocate of a sort of
dominant collectivism: of the most perfect organisation of society,
down to the very smallest details, by its chosen representatives. He
said to me:
"Look at the Bosches. They have it in a sense. That's what
constitutes their strength. It's sad to think the poor brutes have to
work for the King of Prussia!"
I tried, too, to probe their inmost convictions. Were they really keen
about this struggle which would determine the future of their race?
It did not take long to convince me of it. Their patriotism was not an
abstract quality: it was more than that—a tradition, almost a physical
need. A free France was just as vital to them as eating or breathing.
I had the opportunity of admiring the moral unity accomplished by
the work of centuries of history. The Prussians had done these
Beaucerons a personal injury in violating the distant Eastern frontier.
No peace for them before these brigands had been sent back to
where they came from! The question of Alsace-Lorraine affected
them in a lesser degree. It was a long way off—almost an
accomplished fact! But nevertheless it must be won back, if only as a
matter of personal pride, for "swank"!
Their memory of the other war had not been at all obliterated, as I
should have expected it to be. Most of them had heard from their
parents what vexations and devastations their province had had to
endure in those bygone days. They had before their eyes the
ravages of the present war. Hang it all! If only the Bosches did not
advance too far! We mustn't be beaten again.
And then as Corporal Bouguet very neatly expressed it, considering
how long we had been pestered by having to put in two or three
years' military service, we should be dolts not to give them a good
thrashing once and for all, for the sake of gaining a quiet life!
Their spirit in fact was marvellous. It must not be forgotten that we
were still retreating! There was never a sign of real discouragement.
It was sometimes upsetting, certainly, to leave superb positions
without firing a single shot. But if it must be! If, as was still
rumoured, it was for tactical reasons to lead the enemy into a trap!
The fantastic exploits attributed to the artillery still continued to fire
our imagination. Once or twice we met convoys of prisoners. Halloa!
Things must be on the mend! And then, why attempt to give any
explanation? Things went well, because they went well. Even in the
first platoon there was never any serious trouble, the bad seed did
not bear. There was nothing worse than a little slackness, rather less
energy.
There was plenty of marching. Yes, but nothing dismal about it most
of the time, especially when we thought we were getting near to the
enemy when there would be a volley of witticisms:
"Halloa! Trichet!" Guillaumin exclaimed. "I suppose you think
Prunelle's sight too good, and that's why you're sticking your gun
into his eye?"
They laughed; the jeweller was short-sighted and wore glasses.
The men were generally allowed to sing. When I saw they were
beginning to flag, I shouted:
"Strike up, Bouguet! Let's have one of your songs."
"Which shall it be, Sergeant?"
The corporal who was the songster of the platoon turned to me
gaily. We were on excellent terms now.
Voices were raised demanding:
"The Ace of Diamonds!"
"The Miller's Wife!"
The corporal struck up.
"Miller, miller, she betrays you!..."
They exploded, nudging each other, and nodding in Icard's direction
who was the first to appreciate the joke.
Or else it was the Crocodiles, doggerel brought into fashion by
Lamalou, and which they never tired of:
A crocodile—on going off to war
Said "Good-bye, Kids"—but not for
evermore.
His great tail—looking very elegant
He started off—to fight the elephant!...
Then the refrain!
Everyone joined in the chorus.
Oh the cro-cro-cro-, the cro-cro-cro-, the
cro-co-di-iles,
All along the Nile! They have vanished,
we'll say no more!
Childish songs, with a good swing to them. Fatigue was forgotten.
Mile followed mile in the heat and dust. A refrain of that kind swept
right along the column. While we drew breath, snatches of couplets
reached us from the distance.
"Like nothin' on earth, those caterwaulers!" Judsi exclaimed.
Oh, that Judsi! What a type he was! The incarnation, the flower of
the race. In each platoon of France's army, from end to end of the
campaign, I bet there was a Judsi. A street-urchin, from Paris or
elsewhere.... An apache yesterday, perhaps—it was quite possible—
but ennobled to-day by circumstances!
He was an admirable source of good-humour. Made to cheer up the
others. He chatted without ceasing for hours and hours at a time,
accumulating eccentricities of mimicry and expression. Nothing
pleased him so much as to see that we were listening. That was the
time when we played up hardest. I swear that by the
unexpectedness of his sallies and the inflections of his hoarse voice,
he often attained a pitch of drollery which was quite priceless. His
slightest absurdities gave rise to fits of hilarious gaiety. The men
pressed round him, as if on parade. It even interfered with the
marching order. What should he do but organise relays! Every
quarter of an hour, he said to his neighbours:
"'Ook it lads! Send some other pals along now, an' we'll see if I can't
raise a smile out of 'em."
They gave up their places without any sour looks.
"Ain't 'e a caution!"
"Fit to make yer split, the blighter!"
He was never in better form than when we were in the tightest
places, when all the others were down in the dumps. On the
"Beauclair" evening, when we had to retire, he was worth seeing as
he went off shouldering his rifle, with a Uhlan's helmet, picked up in
some house, in his hand, and the air of a gentleman who had just
put an end to the war in the most brilliant style, and was on his way
home where his little wife was waiting to welcome him with open
arms! Or again on the next day.... A hail of shells, which was
beginning, had just set fire to a little bit of a house. He asked the
cook's permission to make the coffee, carried off the camp kettle,
collected some brands from the beams, and boiled the water on
them at the window. The shower of the "Black Marias" continued. It
was a miracle that he was not killed. But his luck, our luck, held.
What endless queer characters there were! Lamalou, Bouguet,
Gaudéreaux. We've seen them all at work—one might go on naming
them indefinitely. And Bouillon!
He had come one morning to ask my advice as to how to send
money orders.
I had taken it as a joke:
"Send them, my dear fellow? This is more the sort of time to receive
them!"
"It's for Marie," he said, "who's stayed behind with the kid!"
"Your kid?"
"I don't know about that!"
He explained that he had lived with a girl, a rag-gatherer like
himself. They had struck up acquaintance when plying their hooks,
and made love across the dust-bins—and they had come to an
understanding. So far, so good. But then at the end of eight months
—eight months exactly, that was the annoying part!—Marie had
gone to Boucicaut for the birth of her child, a little duck, as pretty as
could be! The point was not so much to find out who its father was,
as to rear the little brat! It used to be quite a paying job—but then
the great Trafalgar had come, and Blimey! ever since then there
hadn't been none too much to be scratched up out o' them dust-bins
—so he thought that as he had a bit o' cash he'd better send some
to Marie, if it weren't more'n ten francs.
I realised that he must be economising out of the little tips he got
from me. I was much touched by his story, and promised to make
inquiries.
The matter would depend on the baggage-master. He did not put in
an appearance just then. Bouillon asked me about the matter again.
I mentioned it casually to Henriot who sent me to the captain. He
greeted me affably, and I laid the matter before him. He called me
back. He had learnt, he said, of my brother's death, and he
expressed his sympathy for me. He added that he had watched me
at work. "I'm glad to see you've been making yourself useful."
As for the money order, he undertook to see that it got to its
destination, solemnly took the girl's address, and handed me a
receipt.
When he got it, Bouillon turned it over and over, and asked me what
it meant.
The little sum had been doubled by me and doubled again by the
captain.
His tanned face contracted; and tears glistened in the corners of his
big eyes. He stammered in his effort to thank me.
"Oh! R-r-rooky!"
I gave him a smack on the shoulder, and told him—and how
sincerely I meant it—that we owed him a hundred times more!
CHAPTER VII
SOCIALISM
Useful! I was making myself useful! The captain's words rang in my
ears.
I remembered how I had wondered quite lately what use my life
was, and who in the world would have suffered by it, or missed me
if I had disappeared. Instead of which I filled a place well, to-day.
My death would have been a loss. I certainly exaggerated the
importance of my rôle, but the satisfaction each evening of having
kept intact or added to the strength which was given to me, was so
sweet to me.
It did me more credit, perhaps, than some of the others. I had
always professed not only a lack of curiosity about all manual labour,
but a disgust of it. It was the stupidity of a young intellectual
inclined to consider everything which did not show off the superior
play of thought as a vulgar task. Who would dream how far I carried
this detachment? The farthest I ever got, towards the end of my
term of service, was to do up the buckles of my pack,—Guillaumin
always had to help me. I had begun to realise during the last few
days what grandeur may lie in the fulfilment of humble duties. A
leader of men, especially in the modest sphere in which I gravitated
owing to my lowly rank, has no right to shirk any subjection. He
does not get into touch with his subordinates, or inspire them with
complete esteem and confidence, unless he succeeds in proving to
them that even in the field of everyday tasks, he is cleverer, better
informed, and more expert than they are. The complete man calmly
considers all the difficulties which may arise, from the most trivial to
the most serious, and being unworthy of none of them, considers
none of them unworthy of him.
So I no longer avoided, but rather sought, occasions to expend
myself. I followed Guillaumin's example, and drew on all I had read
and remembered. To speak the truth, when I tried, inexperienced as
I was, to put my ideas into practice, my advice was not very much to
the point.
Bouillon doubled up with laughter when I told him to damp the case
of his water-bottle, or again when we got to our quarters that rainy
evening and I advised him to stuff his boots with dry straw.
"Go an' teach yer grandfather! Just take a look at yours, an' see if I
'aven't done it!"
The last of my poilus could have put me right on endless questions
of a practical nature. Quite so! But I could be useful to them in other
ways. Once when arms were being cleaned, Gaudéreaux had seen
fit to take his repeating apparatus to pieces, and came to grief over
putting it together again. He called me to his aid. It was a difficult
problem. Guillaumin certainly offered me his help, but I refused it,
anxious to find out how to do it myself. It took me a long time, but I
succeeded at last, which was satisfactory.
There was a large field open to me. I had retained the knowledge I
had acquired as an instructor of recruits. It was not a question of
worrying the men with theories, but they willingly collected to have
friendly chats, and ended by enjoying the séances, where one
evening, after having explained the principles of orientation to them,
I taught them how to recognise the Great Bear and the Polar Star.
On other days we went into other matters: to do with the advance
under fire, of the artillery and infantry (we knew all about that!), of
the supply of ammunition and the commissariat; or of subjects
vaster still—Germany's ambitions, and the causes of the present war.
When we were marching we organised competitions in judging
distances. We picked out a tree or a house, and then each one had
to calculate how many steps he expected to take, and count them
afterwards to see how far out he was. Lamalou proved to be
extraordinarily gifted in this respect. He was never more than twenty
yards out. We would find a way of making use of that.
After a few tentative ventures, I found my bent. I had always been
interested in medicine. A handbook on hygiene, which De Valpic lent
me, completed my sketchy equipment. The next thing to be done
was to put it into practice. The soldiers suffered chiefly, as usual,
from sore feet—a crop of blisters and sores. I preached cleanliness
first, and methodical greasing. But the sore places, some of which
were septic, must be cured. Most of the men seemed entirely
ignorant of how to treat a blister. Guillaumin and I arranged a
demonstration one evening with great success. Once having won
their confidence, we treated them for various little ills—diluted
tincture of iodine did wonders.
One great danger was the water, which caused a great deal of
diarrhœa. It was not always possible to boil the contents of our
water-bottles. I had some permanganate of potash; a few crystals
placed in the water-buckets assured a relative sterilisation. Our
platoon made it a point of honour to have as few men as possible at
sick parade. We only had two in a week. Trichet, who sprained his
ankle, wept with rage at leaving us.
My little cures were appreciated. Men came to ask my advice now,
even from No. 1 platoon. I had some idea of massage and set up a
surgery. The men appealed to me in doubtful cases. One evening, I
remember, the party sent on ahead to choose the camp had picked
some mushrooms on the way. Breton insisted on their waiting for
me. I really was not very well up in the matter. However, I did not
quite like the look of the valvular formation at the base, and ordered
them to throw them away. They obeyed without protesting. I learnt
shortly afterwards from De Valpic, that it had saved a good many
lives.
How much joy I got out of my disinterested efforts! Not only that of
useful labour accomplished. The incessant contact, our
conversations, the services rendered mutually, made me fonder of
each of my companions every day. I was getting into touch with the
people again. I no longer considered, as I used to, that it would
satisfy me to live in the bosom of a restricted caste of beings
brought up in the same way as I had been. I suddenly once more
became aware of the ascendency of certain doctrines.
Social morality had always seemed to be a poor morality for those
on the right side of the barrier, as I was. Now I realised my mistake.
There should be neither oppressors nor oppressed, neither
dominators nor dominated,—alliance and not confusion of the
different social classes. "Each for all and all for each," as the old
saying is. Were we not all co-operating with the same heart in the
same work? If between these soldiers and me there was a
dissimilarity in education and disposition, if I, at their head, was
exempt from the most thankless fatigues, did that prevent reciprocal
collaboration and esteem, or stop any one being satisfied with their
fate? No, no. Prunelle agreed; the chief thing was that each class
should know the other, then it would not be long before they
appreciated each other, and recognised each other as brothers, and
not such very different brothers either!
This idea, in particular, clung to me. Disparities due to education and
upbringing, to the style of life, are, to a certain extent, exterior. How
little they count for in comparison with the tongue, the customs, and
disposition which are shared in common by the sons of one nation
and which draw them together. Between the people and the
aristocracy the difference is simply that which exists between youth
and ripe middle age. The people are like a young and lusty lad, who
only asks to be allowed to grow! What were the common sense of
an Icard, the animation of a Judsi, the self-denial of a Bouillon, if not
the deep-rooted qualities of our soil and race? There is enjoyment in
breathing them, when one also exhales them!
CHAPTER VIII
A TEMPTATION
How tired we were that evening. Really absolutely done. We had
been marching for twenty-four hours, almost without a halt. We
were wandering in the middle of Argonne in that part of the
Chalade, and the Four de Paris which were to be mentioned so often
in the communiqués later on. The worst of it was that we had
nothing to eat, except the remains of some bread crumbling at the
bottom of our haversacks. We regretted having wasted the biscuits
with which we had been so liberally provided two days before.
There was a prolonged halt in the forest. At one time we caught
sight of two motor-buses which cut across, following a transverse
roadway. Our rations? We took it for granted and rejoined
accordingly. But perhaps the conductors had not seen us. Several
minutes went by. The commanding officer blew his whistle, and off
we had to go again! Another march on an empty stomach!
A blast of recriminations blew from No. 1 platoon. They could put up
with being knocked on the head, but at least give them something to
eat. They were being cut down every day now. Yesterday there was
no meat! Without rot, there was nothing more to be done but to
"get down" to it. A snooze is as good as a meal. It would only mean
that a few would be taken.
They went on all the same. There was not a murmur among our
men. Judsi still tried to cheer up his companions, but they weren't in
the mood for it. Bouguet struck up with a song, but they joined in
the refrain only once. He couldn't sing on an empty stomach either.
And the rain began, heavy rain which soaked us through to the skin
in a very few minutes.
"Rotten luck!" Gaudéreaux jerked out.
We went on without a halt, through the downpour, against the wind.
We were on a by-road which soon got spoilt and broken. We
slithered through the slush. Gusts of wind beat against us, water
was dripping down our backs, freezing the sweat on our skins. That
lasted for another two hours. A dozen miles or so without a pause.
No one protested, each step must be bringing us nearer to shelter.
There was only one question we asked ourselves, in an agony of
mind: Should we get anything to eat?
At last they stopped us, two companies of us, in front of a farm. The
rest of the battalion went on. The buildings already sheltered some
gunners—four batteries of them. I remember their greeting which
was anything but cordial. Oh, we were the last straw! As if they
weren't packed like sardines already! Dirty foot-sloggers too! (I have
already mentioned the antagonism between the different troops
which was exasperated at such times.)
Our quartermasters quarrelled. But the first comers blocked up the
coach-houses, their officers backed them up, the commanding
officer had quite rightly reserved the only bed for himself. We stood
in the yard for a long time, haggard and numb with cold. We were
finally penned in the stables—piggeries, in an indescribable state of
filth, and reeking pestilentially. Someone went to get straw—a
handful per man! We could have put up with everything if only we
could have got a bite. But it was getting dark, and in this weather all
hopes of the ration train hunting us out were dwindling. The gunners
had hastened to lay hands on anything that the farm would produce
in the way of eatables, bread, milk, eggs, a real raid. They finished
swallowing these provisions under our very noses.
I can see us in that filthy stable. De Valpic had just lain down
alongside the wall. He was worn out, and wanted to sleep, but the
fits of coughing which shook him made him reopen his eyes. He was
shivering. We all had faces mottled by exhaustion and starvation.
Lamalou suddenly got up with an oath:
"Oh d——!"
There was a crack in the roof, from which drops were falling. A
stream of water was soon trickling down.
Guillaumin came back. He had been to have a look at No. 1 platoon.
There was schism in the Playoust "set." Hourcade and Descroix, it
seemed, were still in possession of some "ruti" and a cheese.
Descroix resigned himself to sharing it and favoured Playoust, but
Hourcade turned a deaf ear. Little Humel would get nothing out of
him—or the sergeant-major either. They neither of them demanded
it, though they were both deadly white and worn out.
Guillaumin winked:
"If only we could find some way! I say, are you frightfully done up,
to begin with?"
"Fit as a fiddle, I don't think! Why?"
"Look here."
He confided in me that he had interviewed the farmer's wife. There
was not a village anywhere near, the nearest was nine miles away,
and had been crammed with troops for the last week.
"Well?"
"But there was another farm much nearer, a rich one, quite hidden
in the woods. Suppose we went to see?"
I raised some objections, for form's sake, but the adventure
attracted me. A word to Bouillon. He at once wanted to join us. We
told no one else; permission and success were equally uncertain. So
we started off. It was getting dark. What a road it was! The mud
was eighteen inches thick in places. Torrents of rain still, and the
gloom was deepening. To begin with we forced ourselves to look
where we were putting our feet, but we gave it up as a bad job.
Squidge, splosh! We stoically followed in Guillaumin's tracks. We
sank in half-way up to our knees, and came near to losing our
balance or getting stuck.
When we had walked for three quarters of an hour, Guillaumin
began to get worried. Half a mile the woman had told him.
We were lost? We thought of retracing our steps when he bumped
against a gate in the dark.
"Ow! As if my nose wasn't thick enough without that!"
We began to make out the outlines of an obstruction. But everything
seemed to be shut up. No light. We went to knock at the door. Not a
sound. We knocked louder.
"Done!" I said.
"We'll soon see!"
Guillaumin raised his voice:
"Two petards of melinite to blow up your house!"
A few seconds passed. Then a window squeaked.
"Who's there?"
"France."
"What do you mean? France."
"France, that's quite enough."
"Wot d'you want?"
"Someone to open the door to us."
"We 'aven't got nothing."
"That's a fine story!"
"An wot abaht the Proosians?"
"Will you let us in, confound you!"
The man appeared to be frightened, and muttered: "'Arf a mo' till I
gits into me breeches."
He came and undid the bolts.... A bent old peasant, carrying a
candle in his hand.
"'Ello, on'y three of you! Might 'a bin fifty by the shindy you kicked
up!"
He seemed to me to regret having given in so easily. We went into a
low room.
"Well now," said Guillaumin, "What can you give us to eat?"
The old peasant looked us up and down. I could read in his face the
mistrust and avarice of bad breeds.
"'Aven't I told you there's nothin'?"
Guillaumin shrugged his shoulders.
"What do you live on? Air?"
We certainly looked like marauders. I interfered to reassure the man.
"We'll pay you all right!"
Guillaumin whispered:
"Don't know so much about that."
I had my own idea. I opened my purse to show the silver and gold
in it.
The old fellow considered me. He looked from my hands to my eyes
where he tried to read my intentions.
"For you three?"
"For us, to begin with."
"Hm! Would an omelette do you?"
"With some ham?"
He would see.
We sat down at the table. The man went to call at an inside door.
"Louise!"
A young country girl appeared, with a hypo-critical expression and
heavy features. She lacked real grace, but was built on a generous
scale, her waist well-marked, and her bosom firm beneath the dress
which she had popped on hurriedly.
"My eye!" murmured Bouillon.
The old man said a few words in patois and the girl knelt down in
front of the grate and began to work a bellows. It was not long
before some flames sprang from the dying embers. In a hand's turn
she had laid the table for us. Five minutes later a frothy golden
omelette was dished up for us.
We had never been so ravenous. We simply guzzled. We had taken
off our great coats, which were stiff with rain. When his first pangs
were assuaged, Guillaumin began to cheer up.
"A pretty good idea of mine, what?"
With a glance at the girl I made some joke under my breath, about
the servant girl being, perhaps, the old man's mistress.
Bouillon was eating too gluttonously to take a part in the
conversation, but he laughed continually for no reason at all, pouring
down bumpers of some rather poor wine which the old man had
brought us with many sour looks. His face was turning purple, his
dog's eyes glistened. How I loved him, taking his share of our animal
contentment.
The peasant seated at the end of the room had lit a pipe and was
watching us out of the corner of his eye.
"It's stupid to pay!" repeated Guillaumin. "Let's give him an I O U."
His funds must have been coming to an end.
"Don't worry! This is my show!" I said.
In order to avoid any trouble, I had made up my mind to pay
whatever the old fellow claimed.
Guillaumin ventured to suggest:
"I say we ought to take something back to De Valpic."
"And to our poilus!"
I called the old man, who got up slowly and came to us looking
rather anxious but crafty too.
"And now what about something for our pals?"
"They ain't comin', are they?"
"That depends."
"Wot does it depend on?"
"Upon what you give us for them."
This seemed to upset him. He sniffed and stopped talking.
"When I say give," I corrected myself, "I mean sell."
"'Ow many of 'em is there?"
"About forty."
The peasant threw up his arms like a clockwork figure.
"Forty. Jokin', ain't you? Now if it 'ad a' bin five or six, p'raps we
might 'a managed some'ow!"
Guillaumin rapped on the table, and assumed a threatening air,
which was rendered even more grotesque and terrifying by his great
nose.
"You'd better take care we don't bring them along! I've an idea
they'd manage to find something!"
The old man's face hardened. I again intervened.
"I tell you we'll pay. Now tell me the price of a chicken."
"Ain't got none!"
"What, not in your cellar?"
"Ain't got none."
"Will you take ten francs apiece?"
"Ten francs?"
He rubbed his hands.
"That's talkin',' that is!"
Guillaumin exclaimed:
"Five francs, not a halfpenny more. It's pure robbery!"
I continued:
"I should want several!"
"How many?"
I looked at the others interrogatively.
"Eight or ten—a dozen if you've got them!"
"A dozen chickens at ten francs? That's a hundred and twenty
francs?"
"Yes."
"I'll just have a look, but I won't promise nothing!" he said as he
went off.
When he had gone out, without bothering about the girl who was
leaning against the chimney-piece, and watching us slyly, Guillaumin
slated me. Ten francs apiece. He never heard of such a thing. Was I
crazy? A hundred and twenty francs! No. It couldn't be allowed. I
should want the cash some day or other. I didn't realise.... The old
chap was sickening. It would serve him right if we cleared him out of
everything and left him an order payable at the end of the war. So
that was settled? What?
But I shook my head, and stuck to it. I had spent a relatively
infinitesimal sum up till now. The chance was too tempting!
The peasant reappeared. He brought the poultry back with him, tied
by their legs. They were squalling hard and were certainly very fine
birds. His forehead was wrinkled; he must be afraid we might give
him the slip and be off with the booty. His face cleared when I laid
the purse on the table. But when I pulled a hundred-franc note out
of my pocket, the old fellow waved it aside, and pointed to the
purse.
"None o' that now! You've got that amount in solid gold!"
"Take this note?" I retorted.
"Give me gold, gold!"
"Why on earth should I?"
I had not foreseen this pretext for cavilling when I had flattered
myself on avoiding a scene. I refused to give in. The old chap kicked
against the pricks. Paper-money? Wot good was that to any one
nowadays, you wouldn't get a hunk of bread for it!
He obviously distrusted me. I was on the point of losing my temper.
Guillaumin angrily dubbed the old man a robber and a blooming
Bosche. The latter got annoyed and made as if to take back his
poultry. Bouillon kept his eyes fixed on me, and was only waiting for
a sign to hurl himself upon the old man.
For a fantastical instant I was tempted to let him have his way. I was
enraged, and disgusted. More than that, I was suddenly seized with
a longing to loot. It would be a wonderful opportunity. What risk
should we run? None at all. It would simply be one more picturesque
scene to add to our store of memories.
At that moment, the servant girl happened to cross the bottom of
the room. Her dress fell into lines which suggested the rounded form
beneath. Bouillon was looking at her too, and Guillaumin also. His
big red nose was quivering. The blood rushed to my head, and
desire took possession of me. We all three exchanged a look of
feverish bestiality. Plunder the old man, violate the girl. Nothing
could be easier—some strange madness urged us on—the beast in
us was raising its head.
A vision of Jeannine passed through my mind, but it held no power
to restrain me, for was it not purely a physical impulse? It did not
count in my eyes. No one would ever know anything about it, I
repeated to myself. Why not indulge this whim? It was a sinister
moment. We had each taken a step towards the girl, whose face
contracted.
CHAPTER IX
AT PEACE WITH MYSELF
And then, after all, something stopped me, something I had never
experienced before. Was it prejudice? Or moral restraint? I had no
time to examine my feelings. Was it self-respect? Yes, that, without
doubt. No one would ever know anything about it, but I should know
about it myself!
"Make up your mind!" I said to the man.
Had he an inkling of the danger he had been in? In any case he
acquiesced without a word, and took the note, to which I added a
louis.
I commandeered the rest of the bread, and three dozen eggs, which
the girl was to boil till they were hard. She bustled about, but it took
some time.
I paid for everything at three times its value, without turning a hair.
The old man got a second louis, and to show his satisfaction, threw
in a packet of salt!
I will not dwell upon our return journey. Bouillon had hung a cord
round his neck with the poultry dangling at each end of it, in two
bunches. They struggled and made a deafening din and twice over
almost tripped him up. He gravely warned them:
"If you do that a third time, I shall lose my temper!"
Thirty yards farther on, he stopped.
"Got a pin?"
I handed him one without understanding why he wanted it.
He turned away. I became aware of a wild flapping, and then a faint
rattle. "Next please!"
"I'll learn 'em not to be so bloomin' fond o' flies!"
He pricked them behind the head, one after the other, sighing.
"If only they was some o' them Bosches!"
When he entered the stable in front of us half an hour later, with the
chaplet of chickens round his neck, the men were stupefied. Then an
uproar arose.
"Oh! the cannibal!" cried Judsi.
"Good biz; grub at last!"
The men who were asleep had to be shaken and roused up. Their
faces broke into broad smiles, their eyes lit up. Things went very
quickly when once they were all up. Some of them had already been
told off to pluck, to light fires, and do the roasting. Everyone hurried
into the yard. Guillaumin and I slipped down beside De Valpic and
told him all about our pranks. Guillaumin gaily gave him an account
of the longing which had seized us, to despoil the old man, and
violate the girl. It was a tremendous joy to have a conscience clear
enough to be able to joke about it. De Valpic smiled in response.
One felt how his whole being was yearning for the nourishment of
which he had been deprived for nearly forty-eight hours.
We went to supervise the cooking. In the twinkling of an eye the
men had built up piles of branches, and succeeded in lighting them,
though the yard was soaking. The chickens had been plucked and
dressed and were roasting fast, threaded on to bayonets which
willing volunteers were turning conscientiously under Gaufrèteau's
direction. By his orders, too, bowls were put under them to catch the
fat dripping from them. In half an hour's time, he pronounced the
birds cooked to a turn. We presided over the division. Nothing was
to go out of the platoon!
The battalion sergeant-major came and hung about.
"Halloa. Some looting been going on!"
"No," said Bouillon, "the sergeant paid, and a good price too."
Ravelli stood in the mud near by, and sniffed the good smell. But a
remnant of dignity forbade him to beg. We ended by taking pity on
him, and offering him a fine fleshy bone, which he set to work to
gnaw like a dog.
I was tormented for quite a long time—poor wretches that we are—
by the paltry fear that the men might not realise to the full to whom
they owed the windfall. They had quite cheered up, and I saw them
grouped round the fires which still flickered, and lit up their
delighted faces, chewing the remains of their bones and munching
their eggs. Perhaps they imagined that the company's mess-balance
had paid for the feast. In any case their gratitude to my companions
was just as great as it was to me. I should have liked to monopolise
it!
Then I shook off this paltry thought. What was all this about
benefactors and debtors. A lot there was to be proud about, in
having paid, when I had the money to pay with. One felt that the
good fellows would every one of them be capable of a similar action,
rather than surprised at it!
Candour, simplicity of soul. Another effort. I was pulling myself up to
it.
Guillaumin and I had reserved one whole chicken for ourselves. We
took the best half of it to De Valpic. Alas! his appetite failed after the
first mouthfuls, and he had great difficulty in getting through it.
We had decided to offer the captain a wing. Guillaumin, who had
undertaken to be the ambassador, soon came back. Ribet had
refused it—oh, as nicely as possible assuring Guillaumin that he
needed nothing. If we had a portion over, let it be for one of his
men, who had their packs to carry!
Henriot must have got wind of this reply, for his was identical. The
third one, Delafosse, we knew nothing about him; nobody thought
about him. But Breton, when he was invited, did not turn up his
nose at it, and came to revive himself by us. He congratulated us:
"These bachelors knew how to look after themselves—and no
mistake!"
And what about the Playoust set. De Valpic having timidly suggested
that we might—Guillaumin exploded:
"Never! Low-down cads like that! Why they'd let us starve without
turning a hair."
I backed him up, and De Valpic said no more.
We three each put part of the remains on one side. It was rather
shocking, I admitted to myself, to be thinking of our future hunger,
when comrades at hand were suffering the pangs of present hunger.
But after all! I had done enough for others to last me for one day!
I had gone out into the yard again. It was almost deserted now, but
I came across Humel. He pretended not to see me. His cap, which
was cocked over one ear, gave him a cheeky look, but I caught sight
of his haggard face and sunken cheeks by the light of one of the
bonfires which was still smouldering. I turned round:
"I say, Humel!"
He stopped, and aggressively snapped:
"Well? What do you want?"
"You've had nothing, have you?"
"Had nothing ... what do you mean?"
"To get your teeth into!"
He hesitated:
"A lot you care!"
I went up to him, and put my hand on his shoulder:
"Like a bit of chicken?"
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