my brother! my brother killed! i went off, without a word in reply, and lost myself in the darkness. i was stupefied. my brother killed! i was on the point of fainting. and then, in a few minutes, i regained my control. i had the impression of having advanced a stage; of an awakening.

finished, and done with my r?le as on-looker in all these things. no more detached, distant pity for me like that with which i had been inspired by those dying men just now. how my blood rushed through my veins. i conjured up a vision of my brother alive, leading his men. i saw him totter and fall. they picked him up, stone dead! with a hole through his forehead! that was the end. there was no more to be done but to make the sign of the cross over all that remained of him!

henriot passed me again, buckling the strap of his revolver. he asked me casually:

"well, did you speak to him?"

i was on the point of saying to him.

[pg 185]

"my brother ... you know, my brother."

but a feeling of shyness prevented me, the idea of confiding in anyone was repugnant to me.... guillaumin appeared in his turn, his képi worn square; i did not say anything to him either: the idea of forcedly conventional phrases sickened me.

we formed into platoons. roll-call. nobody missing in our lot.

the men were joking in spite of our instructions. judsi's nasal intonations could be distinguished.

"halloa, loriot, you old rotter, you going to march? didn't the m.o. recognise you?"

each one's a bigger fool than the last!

loriot shrugged his shoulders.

corporal donnadieu was the only one who looked thoughtful and absorbed. an agriculturalist, with delicate features, and a sandy moustache; i liked him for his conscientiousness and zeal. he suddenly turned to me, and said in a whisper:

"so we're going up to the front, you think, sergeant?"

"i believe so."

"already?"

"already."

"how many will stay there?"

he looked as if he were reckoning up the number of victims around us. i said wearily:

"oh, as to that!"

he was silent. i asked him if he was married.

"yes, sergeant."

"any children?"

"one of fifteen months, and another ... on the way!"

looking down at the ground, he sighed.

[pg 186]

"how stupid it is to fight!"

i thought how in our camp, and no doubt in the opposite camps too, nearly every individual was privately thinking the same thing! and yet each one bowed his head and went on. poor human race!

we started off. the night was cool and clear. a good one to march on.

guillaumin came to keep me company. he announced that he was in "the pink" and joked below his breath with his men and mine, whom he already knew better than i did. he forced me to share his good humour. it may be imagined that i did not rise much, though i avoided looking too anxious. i dreaded a direct question and intended to withdraw into myself alone with my sorrow.

he ended by getting tired of it and left me, but then it was the subaltern's turn to hang on to me. it was difficult to escape him. it was in vain that i purposely arranged to walk so that he was forced to the side of the road, where he kept stumbling over endless obstacles such as ruts and heaps of flints. he did not lose heart, and i had to put up with a new explanation of the situation. then he tried to make out where we were. every other minute i saw him consulting his map with the aid of his electric torch.

"look, we're following this road."

he must have made a mistake, at some cross roads. contrary to his expectation we did not cross the high road to étain. then he tried to take his bearings by the heavens, the great wain, and the polar star.

i no longer even pretended to take an interest. i thirsted for solitude. i took advantage of a moment when he left me to go to the captain, to sign to bouillon. with this place filled, i was saved.

[pg 187]

i went on automatically like a beast of burden. the weariness, and perspiration, the crushing weight of the pack, the bumping of the haversack and the water-bottle, the pressure of the crossed straps, all that combined, almost took away the consciousness of existence. a vague regret survived, however.

i mechanically repeated to myself from time to time: "my brother has been killed, my brother has been killed...." but these words conveyed hardly anything to my mind, my grief seemed to be numbed. i confusedly flattered myself that just now, at the first respite, it would awake, awful and sweet, and envelop me in its generous flood.

another obsession, this one very ordinary and almost humiliating, was the rubbed place on my heel. it was not cured and i had struggled in vain to break the counter. the same rub at each step. on the uneven, stony surface of the bad roads we were following, i often made a false step. so great was my exhaustion that i no longer even took the trouble to throw my weight on to the tip of my foot in order to lessen the painful contact.

a high road at last. in a neighbouring field we caught sight of some teams and forage and ammunition waggons.

"an artillery park," henriot shouted across bouillon's head.

a little farther on we passed a troop of cavalry wrapped in their long dark blue greatcoats. our poilus expressed their envy of them aloud.

"war's a picnic to those chaps!"

it was still quite dark—we were going through a forest when the cannonade started again, abrupt and violent. so near this time. everyone started at it.

[pg 188]

it rumbled and roared on every side. it felt exactly like being in the middle of a battle. and what a striking contrast there was between the silence, the sweet-scented air, and the calm of the woods, and this crashing and thundering! we were alone on this road, the moon had just risen; a gentle breeze caressed the little flowers on the slope, and the moss damp with dew.

day was breaking when we left the wood.

we advanced across a slightly sloping upland.

"halt!"

rows and rows of piled arms stretched away into the distance. there was a brigade, or perhaps a division there. we counted on a rest worth having. but a whirring noise was heard. we looked up. one, no two german aeroplanes, like the silhouettes of evil-looking birds, were easily recognisable.

a neighbouring company fired a volley at them. they continued to flutter above us turning and twisting insolently. the men shook their fists at them. and the same thought occurred to us all: what were our aeroplanes doing? a third taube arrived and dropped a rocket.

"the devil!"

"look out!" shouted henriot. "we've been marked right enough! we shall catch it hot!"

the alarm was given. we scattered at the double and threw ourselves down, and shivered in the icy dawn. the expected shells did not come. the captain sent for the subaltern.

"to give him a wigging," said descroix.

playoust jeered.

"he talked of catching it hot! i see he was quite right about it!"

[pg 189]

the warning had sufficed. the big detachment collected there, seemed to have evaporated. some platoons were disappearing ahead over the neighbouring ridge.

were we to follow? not at all. we were taken back, on the contrary, as far as the wood. we all went into it, and the order was given to pile arms. we might rest, but were not to go far away!