once having left the wood, we reached the little hilltop of which i have already spoken.

in spite of having been told that the modern battle-field is empty, i had never imagined anything so desert like as this. not a man to be seen in these fields which sloped gently downwards; it was abandoned territory.

the firing still continued to rage around us. we could even distinguish a distant crackling now, either rifle-firing or shrapnel, a sign that we were getting nearer.

when we passed by a calvary, i saw some of the men sign themselves, gaudéreaux and trichet among others. they would never have done it during man?uvres. why was i inclined to see in this calvary one of the points which would decide the fate of the struggle? i think i must have been hypnotised by the remembrance of the one at isly. i recollected zola's superb pages in la débacle. another passage which recurred to my mind was the description of waterloo in la chartreuse for which i had had a great admiration ever since my schooldays. i was tempted to compare myself with fabrice. how far removed i was from his freshness of spirit, his youthful enthusiasm.

[pg 208]

guillaumin suddenly signed to me.

"just look at that!"

down below us, yonder, there rose a puff of smoke, then another nearer; a third; all in a line. they might have been little bonfires lit by an invisible hand. the bursting points of shells!

the noise of the short sharp reports reached us.

"look out," guillaumin whispered to me. "they're lengthening their range!"

we had stopped, silent and nonplussed. the captain galloped along the line.

"to fifty paces—extend."

henriot bellowed, repeating the order. there was no panic. i think no one had fully realised yet that those slight puffs which had appeared were a direct menace to us.

we had taken up the extended order and went on marching, but with rather broken ranks.

"close up! close up!" shouted henriot.

he was running. i noticed that he had drawn his sword. it was very funny. did he think that he was about to charge? he tried to put it back into the sheath. he stumbled. the men nudged each other with their elbows. a pint of good blood!

our "connecting file" rushed up.

"blob formation!"

henriot, who was still struggling with his scabbard, hesitated. then he shouted:

"left incline! no. right incline! no. as you were!"

"he's all at sea!" said guillaumin.

suddenly.... what was happening? something whistled past.

"lie down!"

[pg 209]

i threw myself down, and the men too, without waiting for the order. one did it instinctively.

"testudos! testudos!" bellowed henriot, in an extraordinarily shrill voice.

there was a gigantic explosion close at hand; the ground shook. we were lying pêle-mêle, wherever we'd happened to fall, in groups of eight or ten, and covering much too much ground.

"close! close!" i shouted. "glue yourselves on to each other."

but the ground was shaken again, some flints were sent flying against us. no one stirred. what an instant that was. i hardly dared to look round. as far as the eye could see our men were scattered over the ground in little driblets in the same way in which water spilt on a pavement trickles into tiny pools.

i had predicted that i would be clear-headed.

shells poured from the radiant sky, preceded by their awe-inspiring blast. we realised which were meant for us, and would fall within a radius of two or three hundred yards. if a single one hit the mark nothing would be left of us but a bleeding mass. o god of chance! i humbly placed myself in his hands. second after second passed in the expectation of annihilation. then i recovered a certain amount of detachment in the thought that i had lost all control over my fate. my thoughts were in a whirl. life was a fine thing. i might have employed the time allotted to me very differently. my youth contained nothing. i detested laquarrière. i had made a mess of my share of existence! and mixed with these regrets was a new hope hard to explain.

how many minutes had passed. there was a lull. a voice was raised; it was bouillon's.

[pg 210]

"nobody killed!"

the relief of it! we raised ourselves up on to our knees. some aeroplanes were circling above us. taubes, of course!

"up you get!"

the neighbouring section had started off again. we advanced rapidly. our connecting file came towards us at the double.

"by sections!"

henriot repeated:

"dreher, guillaumin, by sections!"

we looked at each other, then i exclaimed:

"come along, the 2nd with me!"

the men did not seem to understand.

"bouguet, donnadieu."

guillaumin had gone off to rally his thirty poilus.

mine at last made up their minds to follow me, in some disorder.

what formation ought we to adopt? two deep? columns of four? consult henriot? i hailed him. waste of energy. he went off making incomprehensible signals to guillaumin. we must make the best of it.

"two deep! two deep!"

the booming began again ... for us, this lot!

"kneel!"

i shook siméon by the shoulder!

"close! testudos!"

a few actually remembered what to do—lamalou and bouillon. they stuck their heads between the legs of the men kneeling in front of them. their neighbours imitated them.

i had been the last to get down, at the head of my small column. there was no one for me to[pg 211] shelter behind, so i ran a greater risk than any of the others.

"get back here, sergeant," said corporal bouguet, "we'll make room for you!"

i crawled back, and slipped in between him and trichet.

"thanks!"

i was guilty of a little bit of bluff and stuck my head out. there was a regular hurricane going on. all round us there were great spurts of smoke and dust, and clods of earth were hurled against us. but the pack seemed a great protection, and i felt that we were not very vulnerable really. some shells did not burst, and i made a remark to that effect.

i had to watch the movements of the neighbouring sections in order to conform to them.

they were going on again.

"advance!"

we went on.

"pretty hot stuff!" said judsi. "we ought to go in zigzags, best way to get through," he advised.

i approved.

judsi's right. the range only varies in depth.

we were beginning to distinguish the sound of the different shells through this infernal din. the big ones were always impressive; we frankly snapped our fingers at the smaller ones.

"is that all?" said bouguet as a splinter of shrapnel bounced off his pack.

"listen!" lamalou exclaimed, "there are the 75's letting loose."

i don't know what we expected. a miracle—the immediate cessation of the enemy's fire. we were[pg 212] disillusioned. it redoubled in intensity. one or two shells again fell near by.

"ah!" exclaimed bouguet. "that got 'em!"

"who?"

"the lads of no. 1! fell slap in the middle of 'em."

a shiver ran down my back. i only hoped to goodness that frémont was all right. looking round i saw haggard faces turned towards us. corporal donnadieu was deadly white. i forced a smile and shouted:

"halloa there! how are you getting along?"

"so, so," said lamalou.

i nearly tripped over a black, cylinder-shaped mass.

"look out there. a 'dud'!"

they avoided it and bouillon said:

"lucky you gave tongue like that. i was just going to tip it a hefty biff."

how long did that march under artillery fire last? we covered a good bit of ground, two or three broad undulations. we halted, and reformed and advanced. from time to time we came across an enormous hole, five or six feet across and three feet deep, which we had to go round.

"pretty useful, their 'coal boxes,' to make such pits."

happily, judsi, cried:

"they're digging a grave for the kaiser!"

my one idea was to keep my intervals.

bouillon asked me whether a river we were coming to was the meuse.

i made him repeat it. a river? why so there was.... the othain perhaps? for everyone was talking about it....

"how are we to get across? swim?"

[pg 213]

i was asking myself the same question. the bursts of firing grew less frequent. we advanced in rushes, for longer distances, but not so fast. we felt comparatively safe. our attention was beginning to wander....

"lie down! we're in for it now!"

there was a terrible explosion close by, on our left ... a flash, and a stinging blast. i saw bouguet put his hand up to his cap; a bit of the peak had gone.

looking up, i shouted:

"anything the matter?"

"yes!"

the squall was not over. never mind that! i ran along. a man was writhing on the ground.

"it's blanchet," said judsi.

"where's he hit?"

"in the bread-basket."

the poor fellow was lying doubled up on his side. he was holding back his guts with his two hands stuck through a hole in his greatcoat. at a movement he made to push his gun aside, i caught sight of them.... i was petrified with horror, just as i had been one evening when i had seen a child pulled from under a tram. but i realised that everyone's gaze was fixed on me. i said:

"donnadieu, he's in your half-section, isn't he?"

the corporal did not answer. his face was mottled, and there were beads of perspiration on his forehead.

"you must ... take away his ammunition!" i continued.

he hesitated, then bent down with terrible repugnance, and touched the wounded man's cartridge-pouches. he had some difficulty in opening them, because his hands were trembling.

[pg 214]

blanchet was giving in, his eyes were growing dim, and yet he had the courage to move a little to enable us to undo his haversack, which was also emptied. i repeated:

"come along! come along. hurry up!"

donnadieu murmured:

"i say, sergeant, surely you won't leave him like that?"

i read in his eyes the vague hope of staying behind, of slinking away....

"come along! we must catch the others up!" i said impatiently.

then less harshly:

"the stretcher party will come and pick him up; they are sure not to be far off."

i bent down over the wounded man:

"do you hear, old chap?"

he gave me a poignant look, without uttering a word. i stammered:

"you'll be all right, you'll find! au revoir!"

then raising myself i added more firmly:

"and now we must get on!"

the men followed me, but there were some very painful moments to be got through.

"the father of a family!" signed siméon who knew him.

our column was lengthening. i waited for the stragglers.

"come along! donnadieu, trichet!..."

the ground sloped down towards the river. we were surprised by a strange, fetid smell in the air, which was oddly out of keeping with this harmonious countryside, gilded by the summer. we tried to make out what it was.

[pg 215]

"corpses!"

"and not french ones either!"

it was a fact that these grey forms lying in the grass were germans—a regular hecatomb. rows upon rows of dead bodies, which, in some places, we had to step over.... when had they fallen there? a day or two before no doubt. the men drew each other's attention to some ravens wheeling overhead or perched near by, croaking.

pouah!

i thought of nothing but how to keep my nose covered. the men were less horrified, and seemed on the contrary interested, some of them almost amused. they were brutes, at heart, with no respect for anything!

lamalou made a vile remark, revived from sylla:

"it's bosche. it smells good!"