“This is no time to stay here.” On the trot we gain the fields and follow the bank lined by poplars. We reach the limit of the zone of fire in about three hundred yards. We crowd behind the trees and hedges to avoid the splinters which can still reach us. Suddenly, there is a terrible cry, a noise of something falling. The bridge has fallen down. That is fatal. “We’ve got to be at the P. C. at daybreak, but I don’t see how we are going to make it.” There is absolutely nothing to do just now; it would be folly to try anything, no matter what it was. No matter what the cost these convoys must reach the left bank, where numerous units wait for the ammunition which they need badly, so the order is given to silence the enemy’s batteries which are bombarding us so thoroughly. All the guns in the valley of Froissy, including the big English guns, thunder out at once in an astounding uproar.... The enemy returns the fire with a storm of shrapnel. But the trees with their thick leaves fortunately protect us from this. We hear splinters and bullets falling into the waters of the canal a few yards away. The fire near the bridge continues. The flames have reached other vehicles now and a great cloud goes up in the air lighting up the surrounding country. No one even dares to think of trying to put it out in the thick rain of bullet and shell. Roudon is disturbed. He is a man of duty, to whom an order is a sacred thing. No obstacle should prevent the execution of an order, so he proposes that we go back to Froissy and reach the P. C. of the regiment by way of the Cappy plateau. “That’s mad, _mon vieux_. We’d never make it before nine o’clock in the morning, and we’d all be killed going that way in the open.” “So much the worse. It is necessary to bring the ammunition. It is an order and it is urgent.” “Wait a little while until this quiets down. They’ll not go on like this all night.” “Yes, they will too; they’ve seen the convoys and they’ll keep up the barrage until daylight.” “If we could only find a boat. We could take the caissons to the other side. The quarry isn’t far from there. The men could carry them.” “What are you thinking about? Going to find a boat at this time of night! And with what is falling into the canal we’d run some risk in crossing....” * * * * * Far from silencing the enemy, the fire of our batteries exasperates him. Heavy guns, guns on tractors doubtless, have been brought into play. “280’s” and “210’s” come at regular intervals. The Boches must have thought they had surprised a strategic movement much more important than it really was and were trying to check it. The place is becoming untenable. At the edge of the canal is a large stable for the canal horses, and a crowd of drivers, gunners, and cyclists have taken refuge there. It falls apart when a great shell strikes it. A terrible cry goes up and the building bursts into flames all over, like tow soaked in oil.