The horses are a little to the rear, in a hollow of the meadow. The guns are now silent; they are fastened to the carriages. In a few minutes they have all left. It is ten o'clock. And what of ourselves? An artilleryman passes along on horseback at a walking pace. Some one asks-- "Why is the battery going away? Are we beaten?" He flings at us the mild though superior look of a horseman for a foot-soldier. "The Germans are firing at us from a distance of twelve kilometres with their 210's. It's right enough waging war, but not when the advantage is all on one side." And off he goes. I look back and see him tossing his head. A staff officer comes up at a gentle trot. "What are you all doing here?" he asks. "Artillery supports, _mon capitaine_." "Don't you see that your artillery is gone? You had better do the same. We are falling back." From the crest the section descends into a smiling valley, through which winds a stream. A hostile aeroplane flies right above us; it drops a fuse in the form of a smoking serpent. Ironical exclamations-- "What's that filth? Just look at it!" Five minutes afterwards violent explosions are heard just overhead. The German artillery is peppering our retreat. Why is no one either killed or wounded? I cannot tell. A shell bursts right in the middle of a group of hussars, who disappear in the smoke. When it lifts, we see that both men and horses have been thrown to the ground, but they rise intact. Then every one within a radius of three hundred yards laughs. We cross the river one by one on a plank. A couple of stretcher-bearers carry off a light-infantryman all covered with blood; his face is livid, beneath the dust and perspiration. His head shakes loosely about on the stretcher, and his eyes wear a dull, indifferent expression. A few splinters fall harmlessly around. Assuredly the Germans are firing too high. I hear the remark-- "Their artillery is no good, and they aim no better than a peasant could do." Noon. An implacable sun in a sky of crude blue. A glorious summer, really! The 75's begin again. Their silence was somewhat disturbing. We have been retiring for a couple of hours, and now we come to a halt. Why is this? If the Germans have beaten us, why do they not follow up their advantage? But then, in war a foot-soldier must resign himself to the fact that he may not know why he advances or withdraws. He sees only his immediate surroundings, nothing of any consequence. The guns are silent. Not a shot is heard. The order is given to pile arms. We proceed to a neighbouring stream to quench our thirst and refresh ourselves by dashing a few quarts of water over our heads. No shade anywhere to be seen; we shall have to lie down in the full glare of the sun. Each couple shares a box of tinned meat, which is spread between pieces of bread. A refreshing drink is followed by a good smoke. A hussar, galloping towards us, exclaims--