This trick is played every day and as often as there is roll-call. One must not indeed try to reason, to show that the number given by the officer is not exact. The idea of criticising the orders and the numbers of the higher command has never entered, or ever will enter the skull of a German. Even if he does not understand them, he still will use his efforts to make the given orders respected. Even if he is willing to listen to you, if he knows how to reason, if he follows your argument and agrees with your opinion, he will none the less remain obstinately true to the error; for it is not his, it comes from his superiors, and the fact of its coming from a superior makes it no longer an error; it is the Truth, that one must accept and cause to be respected. So there is nothing to be done! The company counts as its effective force two hundred and fifty men; it is put on paper and the head of the Boches’ company believes he sees the full number in the ranks; they are his “Stück,” they have been confided to him, he wishes to have them numbered, before accounting for them as “alles da”! The men stand at ease, but the inspection is not yet finished. The French stamp their feet in mud indescribable; each moment becomes more liquid as the stamping and the falling rain continue. The unfortunate men who have colds, cough enough to make one’s heart break. Those who are ill, those who are wounded, even those who have lost limbs, are kept there standing in the pouring rain. What for? The orders for fatigue duty for the day. At last these arrive. At the approach of an officer every one immediately gets back to his place and stands at attention. An interpreter accompanies the officer and transmits his orders to the chief of the company. The number of men to be furnished by each company is fixed. The turns of fatigue duty are decided beforehand, and the prisoners, called by name, go in fours, and form column at some distance from the parade ground, where they are immediately surrounded by Boche sentinels. Thus the general fatigue work is arranged. The men are then counted. This done, the sentinels bestir themselves and raise their hoarse voices, crying, “Pâquâtrre” (Par quatre). At last the men start off at the command “Los-march!” (March). Slowly the long line, flanked by Boches in yellow cloaks, makes its way towards the exit of the camp. Then, and then only, may the invalids, the men exempted from service and those who are free, break ranks and seek shelter in the huts. There they shiver in the dripping garments that they cannot dry, as they have no others to change into. * * * * * In the mud through which they paddle and with which at every step they are splashed, our prisoners continue their route. From time to time one or other is obliged to stop and draw out a sabot from the cold, black mud.