They had already unhooked the full ammunition-wagon, hooked the empty one to the limber, and were off at a gallop in spite of our cries. Shells were not long in arriving, their whistling modulated by the wind. One second passed ... two ... three.... This fear of death--the death which falls slowly from the sky--was an interminable torture. Everything trembled. The shells burst, and the wind blew their smoke down upon us. I heard a choking groan: "Ah.... Ah.... Ah!..." Our battery remained intact. The refilling wagon was still galloping away in the distance. One of the numbers of the adjoining battery had fallen forward in his death agony, and his forehead, pierced by a shell splinter, was bathing the bottoms of the cartridge-cases with blood. Hutin, still sitting on the layer's seat, suddenly cried out: "Why, I can see the swine firing! I can see them ... long way off ... down there, about ten thousand yards ... I saw the flash.... It's coming ... it's coming ... look out!..." Sure enough, we were shaken by fresh explosions. I shut my eyes instinctively and felt my face lashed by the cast-up earth, but I was not touched. The bottom of one of the cartridge-cases hummed loud and long, and once again the battery was smothered in smoke. I heard the clear voice of the Captain as he shouted to the senior N.C.O.: "Daumain, get everybody under cover on the right! Major's orders. No use getting killed as long as we aren't firing." We called each other, got clear of the smoke and hurried out of the line of fire of the Howitzers. But the enemy's shells pursued us over the field as we ran, crouching down, in scattered order. A projectile, the flash of which blinded me for a moment, knocked down a sergeant of the 12th Battery, who was running by my side. The man picked himself up immediately. Just above his eyes a couple of splinters had drilled two horribly symmetrical red holes. He made off, bending his head so that the blood should not run into his eyes. I offered to help him, but he said: "No, leave me.... Run! It's nothing, this ... skull isn't smashed to bits!" We took cover behind some large hayricks and waited for orders. The roll was called: "Eleventh?" "Eleventh!" "Hutin?" "Here!" "Not wounded?" "No, and you?" "No." The four detachments were complete. "And the Captain?" "Still down there at the observation-post. Look ... you can see his elbow sticking out behind that tree. He's all right!" Two more volleys of shell burst close to our guns, which still appeared to have escaped damage. How long the night seemed in coming! How we cursed the sun which, its blood-red disk almost touching the horizon, seemed as though it would never sink down behind the mangel-wurzel field! It looked absolutely motionless, stationary. Hutin swore and shook his fist at the crimson sphere. The Captain signalled for us to come up. Behind the hayricks the cry was repeated: "To the guns!"