Georges Gaudy

Georges Gaudy was awoken violently on 7 May 1916. Rousing himself, he saw the grey mass that was advancing towards him and the men around him. One of them rushed towards him screaming “Gas! Put on your masks!” Everyone feared this deadly cloud; it promised a lingering and painful death. Automatically putting his hand to his belt, Georges felt a chill run through his body. Where was his mask?

Panic seized him. Already he was starting to feel the first effects, the gas stinging his throat and reaching his eyes. How many hours, minutes or seconds would it take him to die? Seeing him in distress, a fellow soldier passed him a blood-soaked mask recovered from a corpse earlier. Without thinking about what he was doing, Georges grabbed the sticky object and put it to his face at last. He had hardly had time to fit it and calm himself when he was filled with terror. Dammit! The mask’s eye pieces were broken, rendering it useless.

A race against time began. He had to have a mask! Perhaps at the first aid post? As he ran back behind the lines under the horrified gazes of his fellow soldiers, he had something new to worry about. What if he was mistaken for a deserter? A few metres further on, an officer ordered him to turn around, telling him that a soldier must not leave his post.

Doomed to certain death, Georges made his way back to his lines, seized by fear. From far away, a corporal was running towards him. Quickly, the panting man approached. He had been looking for Georges for several minutes, and before Georges could say a word, he pushed a mask onto his head. Death retreated. Overcome with emotion and joy, Georges took his hands and shook them warmly.