Slowly at first, it sent out its irregular tap-tap, then the cadence became faster, and then a steady crackle. The Boches were taken in the flank and thought that we were making an attack, and Marseille, who saw them running by the light of their star shells, shouted out, “Forward, the cooks, run, nom de Dieu!” The fatigue party rushed out at top speed. Soup spatters from all sides. The rations of wine and coffee will be short. The men disappear in the wood. They are over; they are safe. Now the German bullets are raging to our left about the hut; rockets go up asking for artillery. In front of our lines close to us explosions rock the ground. Their artillery is firing in the right place. The fatigue party is over but the Boches have another prey. By this time Marseille is stewing away in the ruins of his shelter. * * * * * While the shelling lasts we discuss his last feat, safe in the sap, while we munch the last of our cold repast. Then, as dawn begins to appear and we have to return to the cantonment at daybreak, we begin to get ready to go. Before we go we share a bucket of wine which the overloaded fatigue party couldn’t carry in its dash and abandoned. But a shadow stands before us in the sap. “So they share their leavings and there is none for the hungry?” It is Marseille, safe and sound, whole, without a scratch. Everyone crowds around him, and the officer runs up. “And now, if you’ll pull in that string, you’ll bring back the tools. I’m sore on that machine. You know, Lieutenant, that gun wasn’t our Hotchkiss. I had to dismantle the breech; it jammed at once. I couldn’t have fired more than half a belt. Fortunately, they gave me light with their star shells; I couldn’t have done it without them.” CHAPTER XI WITH MUSIC We are in reserve cantonments at Chuignolles, and we all lodge together at the end of the village, near the church, in a large house, which isn’t injured much and which once served the servants of the presbytery. We were shaken up in our last action, and they give us comparatively generous liberty, no manœuvres, no reviews, and no drills. The section leaders have seen to the arms and ammunition and have secured an entirely new equipment from the ordnance officer. The infantry have turned gunners over to us to fill up our ranks. The lieutenant recommends the men to distract themselves with games, gossip and songs. At his solicitation we organized a concert, several concerts, in fact. Each section has its artists which it believes in and of which it is proud. One evening in the garden adjoining the officers’ quarters we were endeavoring to draw out the meal by chatting, but conversation flagged as night drew near. So Sub-Lieutenant Delpos, who was opposed to dreaming as engendering melancholy, demanded a concert at once, immediately. The cantonments were scattered about in the surrounding gardens.