Boom! Four shrapnels right on the front section, on a level with which I find myself. No harm done, however. It is getting dark. I continue to advance, somewhat shakily, but that matters little. The bridge! I show my evacuation order to a captain. So gently does he say the words: "Pass, my dear fellow," that a scruple comes over me, and I say-- "I am not wounded, you know, I am only ill." Vénizel. I meet Perron, the head stretcher-bearer of the 352nd. He is going to Billy, to bring away some wounded. He offers to accompany me, and takes my arm. Two more kilometres in the dark. Fortunately we know the country well. The cannon having stopped, the sudden silence is somewhat disconcerting. There is a buzzing sound in my ears. Perron knows no one at Billy, so I take him to the people who found accommodation for us in October. They have not forgotten Lieutenant Roberty. "He is surely not dead?" they ask. "No, he has been evacuated." "And your other friends?" "Ah! yes, where are they? This morning they were still alive, but now----" A man belonging to the 21st saw Belin about noon, engaged with his bayonet in the trenches. By questioning everybody, right and left, I learn that in all probability the 24th company has lost fewer men than any other of the regiment. My hosts prepare a bed for Perron and one for myself. I can no longer see clearly, so I turn in and go to sleep. _Thursday, 14th January._ Twice in the night I awake with a start. Bare-footed and in my nightshirt, I run outside to listen. They are our own troops passing in the direction of Vénizel. The Germans will not cross the Aisne. At eight in the morning I continue my way, with a wounded man belonging to the 21st. Billy is a very excited place. I perceive Sergeant Chevalier of the 24th. At once he reassures me: Verrier, Reymond, Varlet, Maxence and Jacquard are safe and unhurt. The company has suffered but little: five or six killed, a score of wounded. What a relief! I make my way towards Septmonts in almost a gay mood, half supporting the man of the 21st, who is wounded in the arm, and half supported by him. My companion tells me that he has been engaged in hand-to-hand fighting in the branches, and has fired point-blank on the Germans. The more they killed, however, the more there seemed to be left. Unfortunately, no one can tell me anything of Belin! At Septmonts an ambulance doctor examines me thoroughly. "Good; I must pack you off to bed. Go and see Desprès." Desprès has a small pavilion near the château, containing beds for about a score of sick and wounded. He is the hospital attendant. Busily engaged as he is, running from one bed to another, he gives me some food, and I speedily find myself tucked in between the white sheets. How calm and quiet it is here! I feel more tired and feeble than ever. _Sunday, 17th January._