FOOTNOTES:

THE PHILOSOPHICAL POILU, EPARGES.December, 1915.

You will not believe me, but this morning at break of day, we found ourselves in mud up to our middle!

In the trenches and in theboyaux,[18]it was always the same thing—the sector was completely calm.Parbleu!the others in front of us must suffer exactly the same hardships.

I am numbed! For four days I have been struggling in this damned mud.

Woevre plain is thick with mist this morning and Champlon, seen from up there, resembles one of these pasteboard villages over which a miscreant youngster has poured water.

I sense a feeling of real joy, however, on seeing the first glimmerings of day, because to-night we shall be relieved——

I descend into "Precaution Trench," sweeping into a river of mud, and find myself nose to nose, at the crossing of Sap 8, with one of mypoilus.

On seeing me he cannot refrain from laughing.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Lieutenant, what a sight you are! You've got mud in your hair, and mud on your eyeglass—you ought to look in a mirror!"

"Listen,mon petit, it is not necessary to speak of it, because if one looks around himself here, he always ends up by finding someone very unhappy——"

"Very true, lieutenant, because instead of being in a lot of mud we could easily find ourselves up to our necks in something a whole lot worse!"

That night I am in the home of M. and Mme. Louis at Verdun.

The good woman has a great wood fire going—May God bless her!

I am so numb with cold that I cannot undress—my shirt is frozen to my back——

This good and sweet creature assists me and, hearing my teeth chatter, weeps softly and murmurs:

"What would his poor mother say if she saw him in this condition——"

THE RELIGIOUS POILU, EPARGES.December, 1915.

Accompanied by one of mypoilus, I ran across the chaplain of the —— Regiment of Infantry, in front of the P. C.[19]of the colonel.

We are both in a sorry plight.

The preceding days have been such an accumulation of physical and moral misery, that I could not help but say to the priest:

"Father, I feel death hovering around me—hear my confession!"

"Confess you here? Do not think of it. You make your own hell on earth in the Eparges. I will pray for you. And you,poilu," he added, turning toward my sapper, "to what religion do you belong?"

"I belong to that which looks God straight in the eyes!"

THE MEN OF BRONZE, EPARGES.December, 1915.

We have just put in some frightful days up there. The mud, the horrible mud, is infinitely more terrible than any enemy shells.

It is relief day!

What luck to end this nightmare. One is sad, however, for the others who come to take your place.

The Eparges soil is red—our uniforms of horizon blue, dirty and covered with this mud, appear tinted with blood.

A sad array. We all have a dejected mien. Several of us will not come back.

Fourpoilusare carrying one of our wounded. They advance carefully. Night has fallen and the lingering red shadows disappear from the heavens, one after the other, darkening our march.

We meet General Renaux, commanding the Division, who comes to inspect the sector.

Contemplating us dolefully, he said:

"My poor children, what a state you are in!"

"General," replied apoilu, straightening, "that is nothing. It is we—the men of BRONZE!"

MAJOR HÉLY'S VISIT, EPARGES.December, 1915.

It is reception day, to-day. Major Hély of the General Staff, after having inspected the sector, will dine with us.

And so, there are fresh flowers on the table—chicken and champagne.

A ray of sun is equally in the party. What luck! The boches are quiet.

It is the end of the dinner.

Ménard brings thejus, excellent coffee which hepours in the cups. The only coffee spoon makes the rounds of the table. Ménard also deposits a dusty bottle which we all regard in silence but with respect.

Captain Gunther himself will pour the precious liquor in the little glasses——

Major Hély sips this plum nectar like a connoisseur. He sniffs the brandy and it causes him to smack his lips——

"Ah! Gunther, where did you unearth this marvelous stuff?"

"In a cellar of the village, under the corpse of an old woman."

PRECAUTION TRENCH, EPARGES.December, 1915.

Precaution Trench leaves a memory of horror with all those who have frequented it—. There is such an accumulation of German and French corpses; all huddled together, that one feels a swelling of the heart if one remains for any length of time in this charnel-house——

But we have to put the trench in condition. With sweeps of the shovel human arms and legs are dismembered so that free passage may not be blocked. Legs and bodies are, above all, difficult to disentangle——

At night, when the earth breathes, our men faint occasionally, and it is necessary to give them menthol-alcohol on bits of sugar——

"Look,mon vieux, at that rotting breast——"

"It's possible a woman, dearly loved, has been tightly pressed against that breast there!"

"This man has been reported missing—he still wears his identification tag——"

"Perhaps they are waiting at home for him—they are always hoping, without doubt——"

"Him? Ough! he's shot to hell—but—what about her?"

YOU'RE A SLACKER! EPARGES.December, 1915.

Do you believe all those who have survived this horrible December winter, at Eparges, are martyrs? Not at all. Listen to what I heard this morning.

Two sapper-miners were arguing and this is what took place:

"You ought to be ashamed to be always in F gallery—it won't be blown up by the enemy for two months. It's always the same with you fellows who go in for this kind of fighting——

"Désiré, you're nothing but a slacker!"

A WALK IN THE FOG, CALONNE TRENCH.December, 1915.

There is a thick, heavy fog here this morning——

One can stand on the parapet, where, two hours afterwards, he would be pierced like a sieve.

It gives one a very curious sensation to go severalsteps in front of the trench, over the snow, to reconnoitre the terrain ahead of us.

And it is quite different to inspect this sombre place which we always see through a periscope, not knowing what it really is.

Dead boughs and leaves crackle under our feet while we move with care. There is a zig-zag path in the wire entanglement right in front of us——

In a hollow in the terrain we discover a German corpse, or more precisely, a skeleton dressed in an infantryman's uniform, a rusty rifle at his side—that is the thing in question.

The body must have been there a long time——

THE POILU BOULEVARDIER.December, 1915.

Day has not yet come—the weather is misty, and the rain has stopped. From time to time a rifle shot——

They are working lively to set a wire entanglement between the line of craters and a support trench. It has got to be done fast because daybreak will soon be here. The men sense the completion of the task, and hurry to finish it. They joke and seem to forget they are at a place the worst on the whole front.

The quiet astonishes them; neither of them find it natural——

Suddenly a heavy explosion—a great trembling and a large spout of earth rises in the air a hundred yards from us——

"There it is—a bochecamouflet!"[20]

At the same moment the well-known serenade—from all sides comes a rain of projectiles: minnenwerfer, shells and bullets. A man, wounded, cries like an infant with its throat cut——

Expecting an attack, I shout to mypoilus:

"Attention!keep your eyes open!"

Corporal Poulet replied with an inexplicable accent:

"That's all right; as long as your eyeglass is not broken, everything will go well!"

A POILU WEEPS, CALONNE TRENCH.December, 1915.

A beautiful day—but how cold it is!

From the German lines as well as our own, white smoke curls up from wood fires.

The hour at which the sector becomes active has not arrived, and I have plenty of time to make the rounds of the first line to keep warm.

Poor little hill! It is barren!

It has been well named: "the lobster's claw." Certainly it has the form and color. The trees are cracked or shattered clear to the roots, because tons of projectiles have fallen on it.

The view from this dominating position is really exquisite!

In front of me are the heights of the Meuse, to the left is Longeau valley, with the village of Eparges in the bottom and the hills of Montgirmont, Eparges and Hûres which rise on the other side.

The hills this morning assume the unforeseen aspect of Mediterranean imagery, red and blue, a land of silence, as if one would find Samos and Ephesus close by.

I arrive at a machine-gunner's post—the man is alone, his comrade must be only a few steps away from him. He is crying!

He was seated on the ground, his chin in his knees. Unshaven, unkempt, he had such a pitiable face that I sat down at his side——

He was visibly embarrassed and annoyed at having been taken by surprise with his eyes full of tears.

"Good morning,mon vieux!"

"Good morning, lieutenant——"

"How damned cold it is this morning."

"Oh! yes——"

"What's the matter? Is there anything wrong?"

"Nothing, I assure you——"

"You can talk to me like a brother." He did not reply.

"I'm hungry! It won't bother you if I have something to eat here—sardines, a box ofsingeand somepinard—you'll have a portion?"

At the end of a few moments we were the best friends in the world. I knew his name, where he was from and what he had done in the campaign.

"Why were you crying a moment ago when I came up on you? You are not a man to be afraid in theCalonne Trench, because you are brave—I can read it in your eyes——"

"I'm going to tell you. I went back for my first vacation. I had not told my wife because I wanted to surprise her and the youngster——

"When I arrived at home, that night, the miserable——"

"Stop,mon petit, I understand. What did you do?"

"I thought at first to kill both of them. But I simply turned away from the door—and—I came back to rejoin my comrades——"

THE THREE JURORS' CROSSROADS, CALONNE TRENCH.January, 1916.

LeBlond is going to meet me to-night at the "Three Jurors' Crossroads!"

Here there is an important storehouse belonging to the Engineers, where materials are kept, destined to supply the sector. There is, above all, a hut where I go to seek shelter. Since morning an icy rain has been falling and I'm glad to be able to find a dry spot.

I go into the meager room, feebly lighted by a smoking lamp. What luck! The warmth is soothing and I can dry myself——

On the table is a set of chessmen!

"Who plays chess here?"

"I do," replied the head of thedépôt, a young sub-lieutenant.

"A game?"

Colonel Geney awarding "Croix de guerre" to blue devils of Captain Gunther, on the battlefield.

"That's a go!"

We are absorbed in the game—and, with the log fire to keep us warm, I forget everything: the war, hardships, and at the same time, I must confess, all that I love——

THE PRACTICAL POILU, EPARGES.January, 1916.

This episode took place at l'Eperon-des-Mitrailleuses, which is balder than the head of our friend Mollinié. Tons of explosives in the last few months, have been dropped on this little sector, and the pretty wood which runs down each side of the hill has completely disappeared. Underground, two long galleries of about 125 yards each are being dug to intercept the enemy. Again we find ourselves on ground where mining warfare progresses. The length of these galleries renders the work extremely difficult; the air there is bad and at the end of the tunnel our sappers can only work for a few hours.

The installation of electric lights and ventilators betters, from day to day, living conditions which exist in these villainous holes.

These latter also occasion a visit from the Colonel of Engineers, who, on a certain night, comes to inspect the improvements. He always has a kind word for everyone.

Arriving at the end of the gallery, he questions the bravepoilu, who, in the presence of his colonel works with an exaggerated rapidity.

"You ought to be very grateful to your lieutenant who furnishes you with light and air."

"Yes, colonel, but I preferpinard!"

THE LOGICAL POILU, CHEVALIERS WOOD.January, 1916.

Chevaliers Wood appears to be at the extreme ends of the earth, so much so that one feels far away from everything down there. The cold is dry and piercing. Pretty, white smoke rises from the shelters, in which are burning bright log fires. The ground, on the outside, is covered with snow.

I am going back to the trenches, having at my side a little blue devil. Thepoiluis leading a mule, a nice, gentle mule, carrying ammunition to a machine-gun section.

We passed at the side of a 75 battery, so wellcamoufléethat we had not seen it. We are just even with it when it begins to fire.

The mule makes a jump and I see the moment when our little chasseur is going to be spilled on the ground.

He recovers his balance and, furious, plants himself before the animal.

"Nom de Dieu, don't you knowour75's?"

TRAGIC COINCIDENCE, EPARGES.January, 1916.

I have spent several days at Berne on vacation. Some hours before my departure I went into a shop to buy a cold luncheon to take on the train.

Near the shop-door two elderly women were talking in a low voice. At the moment I went out, passing close to them, I overheard the word "Eparges." I stopped short.

"Pardon, madame, well have you said 'Eparges'—I come from there and I return! In two days I shall be there and it startled me to hear the name pronounced so far from that spot that I will never forget it!

"Perhaps you know someone there? Tell me, I will go and see him for you——"

"My son, Charles, is at Eparges—his name is Charles Dubois. He is in the 9th Engineers——"

"Under orders from Captain Grenet, my friend; he is a sapper-miner——"

"Yes, Charles is a corporal in his company."

"Upon my arrival at Eparges, I promise you, madame, that I will find your son. He will be very happy when I tell him that I saw his mother at the precise moment she was thinking of him——"

On the road, in the auto, which is taking me to Mesnil-sur-les-Côtes, I think of Charles Dubois, whom I shall easily find at the end of my journey.

I will not go to bed in the shelter, without having seen him—God knows, however, what fatigue the last step will bring——

Alone on foot, I will make the hard trip the length of Longeau, a brook, which was torn up enough in 1914 and the beginning of 1915.

During supper tête à tête with Captain Gunther, who welcomed me heartily on my return, I am haunted by the memory of two old ladies——

"What happened in my absence?"

"Nothing in particular, except this morning. We had five men buried by acamouflet—they began at once to recover the bodies. All were killed——"

"I am going above to-night, with your permission——"

"You must go to bed—you look very tired!"

"I have promised a woman to see her son——"

"I will accompany you."

Some moments later, we began the trip, so laborious at night, almost to the crest of Eparges.

At first the long path—what irony!—the length of which was found the shelters of our sappers and from which came at one time or another, sounds of voices. Then we passed Sap 13, where was heard the purring of the electric generator and the compressor.

Farther on is the first-aid station, where a moment never goes by without finding wounded there——

Then it is the P. C. of the colonel, where there is always a great bustle, and where one must say to thepoilu,

"Out of the way,mon petit, let me pass."

Eparges, The "Ravine of Death"From left to right: Lieutenant Blanc, Captain Gunther, Sub-Lieutenant Capart.

Finally, the subterranean passage about sixty feet in length, and we come out in a spot not so dark: Woevre plain is down there. We turn to the right. It is the "Ravine of Death," where trees mutilated by projectiles are silhouetted against the night like a band of witches.

One feels in this place a veritable impression of horror——

In front, pointing into the starry heavens, the crest of Eparges——

Laboriously we climb the hill, stopping from time to time to get our breath. Only a few cannon and machine guns trouble the calm of the night.

At last we arrive close to Grenet's shelter, where several men formed a group along the embankment. I called one of his sergeants whom I already knew.

"Do you know Charles Dubois?"

"Yes, lieutenant. You heard then that we recovered his body?"

"He has been killed——?"

"This morning——"

"Where is he?"

Thepoiluturned—I saw a stretcher, a shapeless mass covered with a blanket, two heavy shoes which stuck out, shrouded with red soil——

It is night. I gently lift the blanket and scarcely recognize the contour of his face——

I can hear the voice of an old woman, who says to another:

"Charles is at Eparges; I am so uneasy."

THE COMMERCIAL BAR, EPARGES.January, 1916.

Bombing duels all morning——

We have gone to pay a visit to Major X—— at his fighting dugout; the major never worries about anything——

"Ah! how good of you to come—let me offer you a drink: some Turin, whisky and soda, Pernod, or Cassis—which do you want? You will remain and have lunch with me? I have a live lobster"—he brandished that animal triumphantly—"and, with that, grilled lamb chops, potatoes,pont-neuf."

Turning toward the telephone operator and without waiting for our reply, he said:

"Waiter, set two covers more!"

FATE, EPARGES.January, 1916.

"Mamma! your ears are tingling to-day——"

I left Colonel Moran's shelter and directed my steps toward our own, following the board path. I walked with difficulty because the terrain was bad. On my right the mud was so deep that one could not step out into it without sinking up to the hips!

The boches commenced to shell us with 150's. The first shot fell between Montgirmont and Eparges, in plain view, 75 to 125 yards from me. The second burst125 yards to the left, back of our little board chapel, raising a great fuss.

The third hit ten feet from me—whack! It did not explode, but splattered me from head to foot—I couldn't be picked up with pincers!

"Mamma! your ears are tingling to-day."

THE COLONEL WHO LOVES GOOD MUSIC, EPARGES.January, 1916.

Bombardment all morning—the hill trembles——

I am lunching with Colonel X——, an immense Corsican, who never knows what fear is——

The meal is,ma foi, very good and very lively. A big boche torpedo burst not far away——

"Tell me of Verdi's music instead of this German melody outside. I'm a lover of the arts!"

EPARGES CEMETERY.January, 1916.

Eparges Cemetery with its symmetrically aligned graves is touching. The Bavarians bombard it systematically, their hearts set upon destroying it, and the shells churn these sacred little plots from top to bottom——

Thepoilus, on the board path, shake their heads and say:

"There! again they're murdering our dead."

LOST IN THE DARK, CALONNE TRENCH.January, 1916.

Night black—night without moon—rifle shots resound like in a cave—we can't see more than a yard in front of us. My friend and I must rejoin a squad ofpoilusat work.

We have taken a short cut and stumble into shell-holes. We bump into tree stumps—climb hills. Yes, we are lost. We retrace our steps—tired and hungry.

We fall against something—it's a mound! I flash my electric torch on it, masking the glare with the flat of my hand. It's a grave! There is a small wooden cross on which is written: "Here lies an unknown soldier."

LeBlond and myself gave a sigh of relief:

"We are at the 'Grave of the Apple Trees,' which is to the right in the direction of the cross; we are on the proper path—Thanks, poor old chap——"

THE FIRST TRAIN, EPARGES.January, 1916.

The narrow gauge track has been finished—the first train is due to arrive to-night. Captain Gunther has put Ménard's Prince Albert over his uniform, and, with a little red flag, a horn and a lantern, has gone to await the arrival of the convoy. One hour, two hours pass!

The train did not come—it has been derailed near Trésauvaux. We learned later that the track had been torn up by shells.

"Ah! these Government railroads—they never run."

HERMAN AND HIS CANTEEN, EPARGES.January, 1916.

For some months we have seen this corpse in front of us—fifty yards away—In the rain, snow, cold, we have noticed it change its position several times——

Herman, the "pretty German officer," was often the subject of discussion: for he must have on him shiny brass buttons to decorate our cigarette lighters and our cartridge boxes—his boots could no longer be any good, because around him there must have been a nice bed of mushrooms!

A change in the line brought us close to Herman. The first patrol which went out crouched over to him——

Quickly one cut the buttons from his tunic——

"Wait," said one of the men, "he's still got his canteen!"

Apoilueasily detached it, then shook it close to his ear—the canteen was yet half full!——

He unscrewed the cover—he sniffed it. It was brandy!

In a low voice, he said to the others:

"Eh! les vieux, it's brandy!"

Tossing off a drink, he passed Herman's canteen to his neighbor——

I DISCOVER A COUSIN, EPARGES.January, 1916.

It is two o'clock in the morning—all the men have retired. I have just returned from Calonne Trench and am very tired on entering our shelter. A man—with a sheepskin thrown over his uniform like a cape—is waiting for me in the outer room. He is seated near the smouldering fire. He rises quickly.

"Good morning, cousin——"

"What, you here!—Speak low because the others sleep."

"Yes, I learned that you were at Eparges, and obtained permission to come and see you before going into the trenches."

"What are you doing?"

"Back of the lines I'm a color bearer, here, I am just like the others. Very soon we are going to occupy the craters."

"Keep your eyes open,mon petit, and don't forget that in this damned sector you must have sang-froid and presence of mind if you want to get out of it alive. You must save from tears some pretty pair of eyes—a handsome young man like yourself certainly has a sweetheart!"

He blushed to the roots of his hair.

"I'm not ashamed of that. If I survive this only the love of a woman can bring happiness hereafter."

He hastily drew a picture out of his wallet.

"Look, cousin, how beautiful she is—I adore her!"

Two hours later a bullet penetrated his thigh while he was in 0 crater.

Now he is in a little white bed and in a few weeks he will be able to seeheragain——

THE ONE WHO READS PLUTARCH.January, 1916.

While looking over the first line of Calonne Trench, I found apoilu, seated on the ground, reading.

"What is that you are reading?" I questioned.

"A translation of Plutarch."

"It's all right to read history, my friend, but you are doing better—you are making greater history yourself—Read on!"

MAJOR ANTHOINE'S CANDLE, MONT-SUR-LES-CÔTES.February, 1916.

Ah! What a brave man this Major Anthoine—we are to dine with him to-night.

When we arrived we found him bent over his map as usual—magnifying glass in hand, he followed, hour by hour, this war of mines, this underground struggle, so bitter at Eparges. The dinner was more than perfect as it always was.

As we were about to leave, he commenced to undress and with a lighted candle in hand and half-clothed, he conducts us to our machine.

The boches have seen the candle and without delay a 77 comes whistling over loudly, bursting on an empty house in the village. The major held up his candlestick for them to see, then extinguished it, saying:

"Snuff it out!"

In reply the boches sent over, one after the other, three 77's which did no more damage than the first.

"You see, it was hardly worth four to put that damn' thing out!"

DISCOVERED, ORNES.February, 1916.

To-night a patrol discovered a corpse between the trenches. It was a very young boche soldier, almost a child. They brought the body into our lines.

Upon searching him, they found some papers—I was near the commander of Ornes, when an officer approached with them.

In a leather case there was a letter written on very plain paper.

"Can you read German, Capart?"

"Yes——"

"Read, then——"

Slowly I read a simple letter from a mother to her child.

"Your young brother Louis is not discreet, so wemust tell him he cannot see you on your next vacation. The work at Ruhr is very hard now and everyone complains. We need many things badly, and, above all, miss you—When is it all going to be over?"

"Stop!" said the major. "They brought on this war. They suffer? So much the better!"

"It is up to us now to kill these wolves and their young—and here's one. Get every one you can, men! Let the she-wolves howl in anguish!"

FOOTNOTES:[17]Gadoue.—Tr.[18]Communicating trench.—Tr.[19]Commanding Post.—Tr.[20]Counter-mining. When an enemy mine is being dug, acamoufletdestroys it before completion.—Tr.

[17]Gadoue.—Tr.

[18]Communicating trench.—Tr.

[19]Commanding Post.—Tr.

[20]Counter-mining. When an enemy mine is being dug, acamoufletdestroys it before completion.—Tr.

This deals with the battle of Verdun. The author took part in the first days of the battle on the right bank and the left bank of the Meuse. He spent, likewise, almost all the month of March at the Verdun front.

On June 7, 1916, Sub-Lieutenant Capart became attached to the General Staff of General Pétain, but often he continued to fight and work with the poilus and also with his old comrades.

CHAPTER SIX

DAY BEFORE BATTLE OF VERDUN, EPARGES.February20, 1916.

At dawn the sky is unbroken. It is a veritable spring day that is here! A ray of sun in this spot—what good luck!

I feel this morning a delicious sense of joy and happiness to live.

Apoilu, on the board walk, said to his friend: "This will be a great day for airplanes."

In effect, all morning our airplanes and those of the enemy described, at very high altitudes, frequent circles, recrossing the lines, girded by puffs of white smoke of breaking projectiles.

In spite of the joy which filled us all, we never spoke but of the next attack, the topic of conversation for the past several days.

We were at the turning point of the war; month after month, the ruin of the Central Empires became more certain, each hour that passed they became more enfeebled in human energy and in money! "Parbleu," said an officer, "their armies have been developing on the different fronts excessively, the strain on their troops has become very strong; and a military decision imposes itself upon them."

They wished to hasten the end of the war and the way to finish it is to attempt a great thrust, a decisive thrust, a desperate thrust—the propitious time is come, it is the moment to attack, there is not an instant to lose!

It was easily determined that a formidable battle was about to commence and that the shock would be heavy——

Here are some of the remarks that were passed back and forth at Eparges, the eve of the battle of Verdun. That night in the trenches there was a silence, a silence impressive. The night was calm and starry——

THE DAY OFFebruary21, 1916.

I left Eparges at six o'clock in the morning. As before the day dawned magnificently. In a happy mood, I start out with Dr. Nicolas to find some of mypoiluson the menaced front.

An automobile was waiting on the Mesnil-sur-les-Côtes to take us to the north of Verdun.

On leaving at seven o'clock in the morning, the rumbling of cannon, heavy and uninterrupted, was heard: the battle of Verdun had commenced....

I did not intend to stop at Verdun, but on approaching the city, I saw the civil population fleeingen massetoward the country, after 380's fell at regular intervals on the martyred city for about an hour.

After a short stop, I left again for Cumières and Côte-de-l'Oie, where I also had a squad of workers.

Leaving Bras, it was easy to determine that theenemy had launched his offensive on the right bank of the Meuse.

As far as the eye could reach the bursting of large projectiles was seen: they fell particularly on the forts, on the roads, on the cantonments, on the trenches.

The crushing noise produced by these largeMarmites[21]became accentuated hour by hour; a curtain of smoke collected against the blue sky, and, with the brightness of the day, this spectacle certainly did not lack grandeur.

I still command a view of the battlefield seen from the Côte-de-l'Oie; columns of smoke go rolling on the banks of the Meuse. I had never seen such parallel artillery preparation up to that day.

Ourpoiluscried:

"The 77's and 105's no longer exist!"

It could easily be seen that "something" was taking place on the right bank where the intensity of the artillery became greater hour by hour.

They fought stubbornly before Samonieux and we heard the noise of the machine-guns. I made the resolution to go and rejoin the men I had at Ornes, on the right bank, since it was they above all that were in the greatest danger.

The memory of the afternoon of this day will forever remain sad; I ask myself often how my comrade LeBlond and I had been able to reach Ornes.

We succeeded in reaching Bras toward two o'clock: the village was violently bombarded—human bodies and horses blocked the streets.

I went to pay my respects to General B—— whom I found in his fighting post, surrounded by his officers. He wished us good luck in affectionate terms.

We climbed Côte du Poivre and arrived at Louvemont toward three o'clock in the afternoon. In going through the village, our eyes commenced to be irritated by tear gas: the bombardment was infernal.

It was apparent that the enemy was undertaking a decisive action. The road which we traversed was hammered by numerous projectiles and there was nothing for us to do but forge ahead like automatons——

LeBlond had taken my arm, and, together, it was decided not to stop before any obstacle——

The nearer we approached Chambrettes the more dense became the fire.

At four o'clock the enemy piled up a barrage on the road and concentrated their fire on the farm: it rained projectiles of all calibers—of all big calibers, I know.

In a circle of 325 yards radius, there fell, certainly, fourmarmitesevery second, of a caliber equal or superior to 21 centimeters. The ground trembled and a smoke, acrid and suffocating, enveloped us.

The 150 timed-shell from time to time rent the air with their furious screams like those of a cat when you step on its tail——

During my whole campaign never have I seen an equal density of fire.

Torn bodies of skirmishers were scattered here and there in this zone of almost certain death. Continuing our way we had escaped death more than once in this violent fire. We were covered with spurts of earth from bursting projectiles which fell close to us and those that fell around struck us with ricochetting fragments of steel.

As there was not urgent need of reaching Ornes, we resolved to tarry a few instants in one of the shelters on the farm. We had 175 yards to go in a rain of steel and well-directed fire, or as dizzy a route as the ascension of Mount Cervin, for example.

We entered the telephone post at the precise moment thepoilusascertained all underground lines had been cut——

The shells continued to fall so fast around us that we had the impression of being on the inside of a hermetically sealed autobus rumbling with great speed over a rough pavement.

A projectile burst at one corner of the shelter which crumbled from the force of the explosion and threw us all together in a heap—No panic!

I sensed the feeling that our last hour had come and the men, picking themselves up in silence, crowded into the corners save one who cried, gesticulating with his arms:

"Is—is that what you call a demolishing fire?"

Our objective was Ornes and if it became necessary to die I avowed that I would prefer to fall in the light,my eyes turned toward the sun. "If die we must," I say to LeBlond, on leaving the dugout, "I would rather be killed outside——"

"I am with you——"

Again we traveled over a space of 350 yards in a haze of fire and smoke——

Amarmitefell a few steps away, covering us with dirt—I see my comrade stagger, struck on the head with a large mass. Fortunately it is only a ball of turf which knocks him violently to the ground——

He picks himself up, and in a ringing voice:

"Yes, if that one will not get me a vacation, now, you will not be verychic!"

Some hours later we reached Ornes, having had to go through the barrage at Chambrettes, and another, of 305's, on the cavernous road along Chaume Wood. This road, so quiet a few days before, had become a veritable hell.

The village of Ornes, itself, was relatively calm that night, the infantry attacks not having begun up to the present, only between the Meuse and Herbebois Wood. Thepoiluswaited calmly all events that might be forthcoming, always ready to do their duty stoically and simply——

I had promised General B—— to give him news of our sector during the night, all the telephonic means of communication having been destroyed.

Again I traversed the entire road from Ornes to Bras; at Chambrettes the spectacle was fairy-like—ourbatteries on the one side fired in unison and their flashes illumined the heavens. In front of us the soaring shells came thick and fast from the forest of Spincourt and Forges Wood, intermittently brightening the darkness like a luminouspianotage, giving one the impression that every ten square yards there was an enemy battery.

The sky was ablaze on the horizon—it was the burning villages——

Yes, they began well the great battle, the greatest battle in the history of the world——

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