So we passed Saint-Omer, Arneke, Pilens, Blingel, Frévent, Avesne-le-Comte, etc.... and we approached Arras, whose town hall and belfry we saw one morning profiled in a blue haze against a spectral sky. On passing through Arneke on the 8th of April we marched past General Foch headed by our band. When the regiment had passed by he sent for the officers. We were all presented to him, and he had us formed up in a circle to say a few words to us. Listening to the General was like experiencing a species of shock. He hammered out his words and scanned his phrases in a manner which made us feel ill at ease. His speech was a flagellation, and we felt a sort of moral abaissement as a result of it. His look seized upon and held us. He brought us to bay and then crushed us. First he spoke to us of our mission, of the utility of training the men in view of the coming fatigues. “Train their arms, train their legs, train their muscles, train their backs. You possess fine qualities, draw on them from the soles of your feet, if necessary, but get them into your heads. I have no use for people who are said to be animated by good intentions. Good intentions are not enough; I want people who are determined to get there and who do.” There are shreds of his phrases that remain graven on my memory, curt short phrases, punctuated by a sharp gesture, or by an indescribable look of the eye: “If you want to overturn that wall, don’t blunt your bayonet point on it; what is necessary is to break it, shatter it, overturn it, stamp on it and walk over the ruins, _for we are going to walk over ruins_. If we have not already done so”—and here he suddenly lowered his voice and gave it an intonation almost mysterious—“_it is because we were not ready_. We lacked explosives, bombs, grenades, minerwerfers, which now we have. And we are going to be able to strike, _for we have a stock_ such as you cannot even have an idea of. We are going to swamp the enemy, strike him everywhere at once: in his defences, in his morale, harass him, madden him, crush him; we will march over nothing but ruins.” Then he went off quite naturally, without any theatrical effect. He said just what he had to say, and he did not add a word too many. He saluted us: “I hope, gentlemen, to have the honour of seeing you again.” A moment later his motor-car was carrying him off towards Cassel, leaving us deeply stirred and impressed by his spoken words and no less influenced by his personality. CHAPTER VII THE ATTACK AT LOOS 9th May, 1915