The Boches had made a terrific charge on about a quarter of a mile front, but were repulsed with very heavy losses. Naturally our brave boys were exulting over the fact that they had stood their ground and made the Germans quickly retreat, leaving numbers of their men upon the field. I was not very jubilant, however, because the thought of poor "Frenchie" was still in my mind. Then another shock came to me. I had gone back to the depot only to find my other comrade, Jean, lying on a piece of canvas on the floor with a bandage around his head. His face was turned away from me and a man was administering temporary treatment. I asked him what was the matter, and upon hearing my voice Jean answered for himself. "Well, I guess I got mine that time, but you can bet I gave a good account of myself first. It is all for _La Belle France_, anyway, and I am damn glad it happened!" He became weak then, and didn't speak any more. As soon as I got the chance, I asked the soldier standing by more particularly about the nature of the wound and he said in a low and faltering voice: "Jean will recover all right, for his wound is not fatal at all, but," and he broke down as he continued, "he'll never see light again. The poor fellow has both eyes shot out." An then he told me what a wonderful fight Jean had put up first, accounting for four Germans in hand-to-hand fighting. Poor Jean! He will grope his way through life! But the thing that impressed me most was his inner feeling, "It's all for _La Belle France_, and I'm damn glad it happened!" You can't whip a nation like that. CHAPTER XL THE PSYCHOLOGY OF FRANCE I had a sort of habit, when I had time off from the work, or was "on my own," of sometimes going to the railroad stations of the different towns and more especially those of Paris. A railroad station is an interesting place at any time. It is an educational institution, for there you find all classes of humanity coming and going, just as they are. It is where the ebb and flow of the human tide of life is. But I think in this time of war, especially, there is no place which so well shows up the psychology of the people as the railroad depot. Often have I stood in those large Paris stations and watched the people come and watched them go. The Gare du Nord, the Gare du Lyons, and the Gare la Chapelle are full of sentiment and pathos. Once at the last named station I was standing in the background in the shadow of a pillar, where I was unobtrusive and unnoticed, and watched the anxious people. Some of them were looking for their loved ones back on leave, and some of them had come to see their loved ones leave, perhaps forever!