"Layers!" he called. Feverishly, beneath the shells, we prepared for action. "Echelon at fifteen. First gun, a hundred and fifty; second gun, a hundred and sixty-five.... Third...." The fuse-setters repeated the corrector and the range. "Sixteen.... Three thousand five hundred...." "In threes, traverse! By the right, each battery!..." "First gun ... fire!... Second...." The rapid movements of serving the guns electrified us. In the deafening din made by the battery in full action orders had to be shouted. We no longer heard the enemy's guns; they were silenced by the roar of our own. We forgot the shrapnel, which nevertheless continued to fall. Suddenly the howitzer fire slackened, and then ceased. "They're getting hit!" said Hutin, bending over the sighting gear. "Fire!" answered the No. 1. "Ready!" "Fire!... Fire!..." On the plateau behind us companies were retiring in extended order. * * * * * Night fell. We also received orders to retire. It seemed as if the earth and the woods were absorbing such light as was left. The movements of the infantry in the distance were lost in the undulations of the ground. The men seemed to become incorporated with the fields, and dissolved, disappearing from view. Near a dark shell-crater lay a red heap. A soldier was lying stretched on his back, one of his legs blown off by a shell, leaving a torn, bluish-red stump through which he had emptied his veins. The lucerne leaves and earth under him were glued together with blood. The man's head had been thrown back in his agony, and the Adam's apple jutted out amid the distended muscles of his neck. His glassy eyes were wide open, and his lips dead white. He still grasped his broken rifle, and his képi had rolled underneath his shoulder. _Tuesday, September 1_ A long night march. It was past one o'clock in the morning when at last we halted, and we still had to make our soup, water the horses and give them their oats. This done, we fell into a deep sleep. About four o'clock the sergeant on duty came and shook us one by one. He was greeted with growls. "Alarm!" "What misery! Can't we even sleep for an hour!" It was veritable torture to keep our eyes open. Our limbs were stiff, our heads heavy, and our loins ached. The weather was foggy and cold. We clambered on to the limbers and started off. Numbness at once seized our feet and then our knees, mounting rapidly. Our heads rolled from side to side, and we gradually lost consciousness. Some of the drivers were sleeping on their horses. They slipped more and more to one side and, just as they were about to fall, were awakened by instinct and sat straight up in the saddle again. But a moment after one could see them through the gloom, once more subsiding and gradually slipping, slipping....