“He was not mistaken; at that spot, between two companies, our line showed a slight opening, a ‘break’ which the Germans were trying to enter. Lemordant sent one of his men to alarm the nearest company, and was making a half-circle toward his own company when a huge Boche ruffian appeared in the darkness and fired at him pointblank. The bullet shaved his cheek; other bullets whistled about. The little troop had been winded, and there was only one way to get out of it, that was to reply by a general fire that would give the impression of an attack in force. The enemy would perhaps be impressed by it, and in any event this volley would put companies out on the alert. In fact, on both sides the firing became general, even the artillery took part in it; a seventy-seven burst near Lemordant, wounded him in his right side and threw him into the air with his full equipment. The wound was not serious, but Lemordant fell in such a way as to dislocate his hip-bones and to tear his muscles. Fainting, he was carried away to a field-hospital, where he remained until the ninth. The enemy was now in full retreat. On the eighth we had crossed Le Petit Morin, on the ninth we lay at Montmirail and at Champaubert, on the battlefields of the Napoleonic epic, and the birth of victory came to the armies of the Republic in the same cradle where the Imperial star had shed its last rays. “Lemordant refused to be sent to a base hospital. He was not yet strong. He could scarcely walk, the two wooden splints which they had placed over his pelvis came out of position at each sudden movement; but the splendid conscience of a leader of men had awakened in this idealist, this dreamer who but yesterday was so highly prejudiced against the military profession. He knew that in war-time an officer only holds his men by his own example and moral authority.” AN OFFICER’S OBLIGATION “‘An officer,’ he said to me, ‘literally must give all his existence, all his life-blood to his country; he must not spare a drop; less than any other is he allowed to invoke the relief of the “slightly wounded,” which permits him to go to some luxurious hospital in the Côte d’Azur and there appeal to the tender hearts of the Sisters of Charity. Wounded, sick, limping, he must be able to say to his soldiers who are complaining, “But do I not march, too?” Then they will follow him.’ “On the morning of October 4, 1914, the 41st attacked near Monchy-le-Preux.... All went well at first. From time to time, whenever the ground was uneven, they rushed forward; a few unlucky ones are dropped out on the way. With the rest, Lemordant, although himself wounded in the hand, reached the enemy trench and carried it.