We are up at four in the morning of the 7th of September. The German artillery opens a violent fire on the village, which we cross at a run, bent double, Indian file, keeping close to the walls. Not one of us is wounded. We come down into a ravine, above which hover a couple of Taubes. At no great height they pass to and fro, without appearing to suffer from the violent fusillade directed against them. They are trying to find the very batteries in aid of which my section has been sent out. The shells begin to rain down upon us in uninterrupted streams. We rush into a wood skirting the ravine. We form a carapace. Two hours on the ground, without stirring, crouching up against one another, our haversacks over our heads. Each explosion covers us with dust and hot smoke. Stones, clods of earth, branches of trees fall on our backs and set our _gamelles_ clanging. The company loses five dead and a score wounded. Corporal Marcelin has his head torn off by my side. During a pause we lunch. At one o'clock the performance recommences. Again a carapace is formed. An artillery officer shouts to us as he passes-- 'You are in a very dangerous zone.' No doubt of that! This evening we bivouac out in the open. The 8th of September, _en route_ at four in the morning. We are massed in reserve behind stacks of straw, where we see something of the battle. The Germans appear to have the advantage. Their guns shower upon us huge projectiles which, on bursting, release a heavy black smoke. Violent replies by our 75's. A village to our right is aflame. Gusts of artillery fire on Fosse-Martin and the farm of Nogeon. Conflagrations are seen on all sides. An ambulance is girdled with flames. General Joffre's order of the day is read aloud by a sergeant: 'Die rather than retreat.' The impression it leaves is profound. The paper passes from hand to hand, each man peruses it in silence. We are given a few explanations on the battle being fought, and the arrival of the 4th Corps is announced. In effect, we soon see a number of regiments advancing. In the afternoon, an endless stream of wounded, coming for the most part from the village which has been burning ever since morning. Fighting is going on from house to house. Some of the men have terrible wounds, still undressed, from which the blood is streaming. A dragoon, who remains on horseback, has his left foot blown away, with the exception of the heel, which still hangs to the leg. An infantryman, his shoulder almost torn from his body, has abandoned his coat and converted his shirt into a sling to support his arm.