They creep along worm-like and the file of men, like beads on a rosary, extends from the entrance to the Tunnel to the waiting sergeant. Suddenly an explosion, flurry, smoke--right in their midst, _les pauvres_! For some instants they all disappear in the cloud--but there is "horizon blue," crumpled bodies and a spinning helmet---- Finally the cloud clears away; there are still some men around him and the sergeant shouts again: "_Nom de Dieu!_ you laggards! Are you coming to-day or to-morrow!" They hurry on, striding over the bodies of their comrades who have fallen---- [Illustration: Verdun and the Meuse, March 23rd, 1916.] ANXIOUS HOURS, VERDUN. _March_, 1916. To-night we sent one of our men to the Citadel of Verdun to send a package of papers to Colonel Benoit. We were at table--Habert lighted the lamp and night had fallen. Our orderly had scarcely placed the rabbit stew on the table than three violent raps were heard at the door. An old Territorial, with a dejected air, entered the dining-room, and we saw by his bearing he came to announce a misfortune---- "What is it you have, _mon petit_?" "Are you Lieutenant Capart?" "Yes----" "I am returning your papers--we found them on the man who carried them--he has just been killed and your name was seen at the top of the papers and I brought them to you." "Our sapper has been killed! How did it happen?" "The shell struck him squarely, killing three other _poilus_. He is in shreds, lieutenant. Good night, lieutenant----" LeBlond and I were astounded at the death of this brave boy, who had just left us. With sadness we turned over the papers in his handwriting and covered with his blood. Habert's features were pale and dejected. The news extinguished our appetites and we sat gloomy and silent before the excellent meal Habert had prepared for us---- * * * * * An hour later one of our _poilus_ arrived by the _Rue-sur-l'eau_, and said to us: "You know the news?" "Yes, we have heard the sad thing--_Pauvre petit_----" "He sends his respects to you, lieutenant, and asks if you have received your papers all right----" "_Voyons, voyons_--whom are you talking about?" "But--about your secretary----" "We were just informed he had been killed----" "No, lieutenant! he was slightly wounded in the arm and will be away a few days on leave. These Territorials from the South of France always see the dark side of things----" Our supper was spoiled that night, but we breathed easier---- COCO, VERDUN. _March_ 25, 1916. I left the region of Verdun to-day. An order calls me to Paris. I decided to bring Coco with me, because Coco is the "last civilian in Verdun." The poor little parrot is ill at ease in his cage since Madame Louis went away and since the bombardment of the city began. When window panes were smashed his feathers bristled up and his frail little body began to tremble----