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The forbidden zone

Chapter 6: THE CAPTIVE BALLOON
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About This Book

A sequence of vivid front-line sketches, hospital scenes, short stories, and poems drawn from four years of hospital service with the French Army, presenting fragmentary impressions of life in the war zone. The pieces move between mudbound villages and shattered battlefields, describing bombardment, hospital operating rooms, the physical and psychological wounds of soldiers, and moments of civilian and medical care. Tone is unsentimental and fragmented, favoring compressed sensory detail and moral bewilderment over narrative order, with occasional short fictionalized episodes reconstructed from memory. Recurring concerns include the banality of suffering, the disorientation of modern warfare, and attempts to render chaos without falsifying it.

THE CAPTIVE BALLOON

There is a captive balloon in the sky, just over there. It looks like an oyster floating in the sky.

They say that a man lives in the balloon. They say that from the balloon you can see the enemy’s trenches and the country behind that is held by the enemy, but from here we can see nothing, only trees and farmhouses and carts going along the road, and the captive balloon.

Aeroplanes sail over our heads sometimes. They gleam in the sun, they move past with a great whirring, they fly fearlessly toward the enemy’s country. They whirl about and disappear and come again, swooping down over us with arrogant wings. They are beautiful, proud and adventurous.

But the captive balloon is tied forever by a string to a cabbage field. It has been just over there ever since we have been here and that is a long time now. It never moves. It never comes down or goes up. It floats there while the biplanes and the monoplanes circle round it.

What does it do? It is an oyster in the sky, keeping an eye on the Germans.