Everyone is at work; the Engineers are making steps and finishing saps; Artillerymen walk about in the communication trenches with range-finders with which they accomplish mysterious rites, asking me politely to move as I am in the way. Officers of all battalions are reconnoitring the sector, and the men are sewing bits of white canvas on their packs so that they may be recognized at a distance by our artillery. One would say that a costume play was in course of being mounted and that the last preparations were being made for the opening performance. At ten minutes to nine I returned to my command post. I examined my revolver carefully, took off my tunic and put my money and my papers in my trousers pocket. I slipped my cloak on over my shirt, put my revolver in the inside pocket and I got out of the trench. I gave a last warning to my men not to fire, even if they heard firing. Stivalet was there; we got over the parapet at nine o’clock exactly, and we had chosen a bit of known ground between two _chevaux de frise_. It was very dark; scarcely had we started than a star shell lit up the sky. We threw ourselves flat on the ground on our faces. I felt the wet grass and moist soil on my cheeks and on the palms of my hands. I listened to my breathing and I could not feel the beatings of my heart. I was perfectly calm. For two or three minutes we groped our way across the wire of the _chevaux de frise_. When we had passed it we came on an old network of rusted barbed wire all broken up by shell fire, and our feet and cloaks got entangled in it. We crawled on our hands and knees and each time that a star shell burst we threw ourselves flat, as before. The critical moment had arrived. Stivalet hailed me in a low voice, “This is a rotten trip we are making.” He whispered in my ear, “It is too dark, we shall see nothing.” I said to him, “All right, you stay here, I am going farther on.” I crawled on alone. I felt perturbed at being alone in the black night with all these rifle muzzles pointed at me. I was at the mercy of a flare. I went on as well as I could, without a sound, trying to blend with the ground. I went on for I don’t know how long or how far. Then I looked up and I saw the German entanglements close beside me. I distinctly heard talking going on; unfortunately I did not understand a word of it. There was no object in delaying further, my mission was over. I had seen their defences; they were only _chevaux de frise_, united by barbed wire. As I turned, two rockets went off and crossed. I thought that I was lost and I stayed still with my head on my arms and my face to the ground, biting the grass; but nothing happened; not a shot was fired.