_11th August._—Leave Ave at 5 o’clock. The heat appears to increase, not a breath of air. For two hours we trot in clouds of blinding dust. A regiment of Uhlans is reported. The Colonel masses us behind a hill and we think we are going to deliver battle; but the enemy steals away once more. Thirst is a torture, my water-bottle lasts no time. Arrive at Beauraing at six o’clock. Thirteen hours in the saddle. _12th August._—We onsaddled at 5 o’clock. False alarm; wait at Beauraing. _14th August._—Alarm, the regiment moves off; I am left behind to accompany a convoy of reservists. The village is barricaded, the enemy is quite near. Only a handful of men are with the convoy. Wait at the side of the road with Fuéminville and Lubeké. Five dismounted men arrive, without helmets, done up, limping, prostrated, grim as those who have seen a sight which will for ever prevent them from smiling; the fact is that the remains of the 3rd squadron of the 16th have been caught in an ambush by the German infantry concealed in a wood. They have been shot down at point-blank range without being able to put up a fight. Never have I seen human waifs more lamentable and more tragic. They had seen all their comrades fall at their side and owed their lives only to the fact that they had themselves fallen under their dead horses and to a flight of 40 kilomètres through the woods. Montcalm is amongst the killed. The convoy marched out at half-past nine at night, at the walk, an exasperating pace of 4 kilomètres an hour. We took all night to do 23 kilomètres. I ask myself when we are likely to rejoin the 22nd, even whether the 22nd still exists. _15th August._—We bivouac near the village of Authée, with the convoys of the 61st and 5th Chasseurs. It is dark and cold, and this night has tired me more than my longest marches. The waiting about unnerves us, and my blood boils when I think that the 22nd must be on the eve of having a fight. The Germans lay siege to Dinant eight kilomètres off. One hears the guns as if they were alongside. Our turn is near, I think. No one is affected thereby, and we prepare our soup to the whistling of shells. The cannonade seems to redouble, they are giving and taking hard knocks, and some there will be who won’t answer their names to-night.