We thought we were going to fire, but found that other orders had arrived. "Limbers!" A mist, rising from the hollows of the plain, blotted out distant objects one by one. The far-off hills occupied by the Howitzer battery were lost in a purple haze, but quite possibly we could still be seen thence as we stood silhouetted against the clear western sky. We limbered up and rolled off. The Howitzers kept silent. The rifle-fire now began to grow fitful, and the guns were hushed in their turn. A death-like stillness settled down on the plain, which, as the sun sank, became illuminated by burning buildings, the flare of which blazed ever more brightly as the night crept on. The day of severe fighting which was just drawing to a close had decided nothing. Each of the adversaries slept in his own positions. _Wednesday, September 9_ In a field near Sennevières, in position of readiness, we brewed our coffee. The weather was very hot. This morning the battle had been slow in opening, but now to the east and north-east the guns were roaring as incessantly as yesterday. Suddenly, about midday, the firing-line on our left opened out and became slightly curved. We were occupying the extreme wing of the French army, and were at once seized with misgivings. Was the enemy outflanking us again? We questioned the Captain, who was also intently observing the woods which yesterday had been out of the enemy's range, and which were now being heavily shelled. "What does that mean, sir?" "I don't know any more than you, I'm afraid. I only obey, you know.... I go where I am told to go.... That's all!" But Déprez insisted: "They're turning our left again!" The Captain's finely chiselled face was puckered with anxiety. "Well," said he, "they're certainly bombarding woods which they weren't bombarding yesterday. But that at any rate proves that they haven't reached them. On the contrary, perhaps they've been threatened on that side by an enveloping movement of our troops.... Who knows?... Besides, if they do outflank us we aren't alone here.... We'll face them!" He gave us a searching look with his intelligent hazel eyes, and repeated: "We'll face them, won't we?" "Of course we will, sir!" Coffee was ready. The Captain pulled his aluminium cup out of his pocket and dipped it into the black beverage smoking in the kettle. The gunners stood round him, their drinking-tins in their hands, waiting their turn, and when he had filled his cup helped themselves one after the other. Conversation ceased, and the men sipped their coffee. After a while the cook said: "There's some more!" "How much?" asked the Captain, anxious not to deprive any one. "A good half-pint each." The Captain helped himself and the men followed suit. Then, as there still remained a little coffee mixed with grounds the operation was repeated.