One of our chief discomforts was the lack of water. Toward evening we halted alongside a cucumber patch. The men simply went wild, running into the field and sucking the juicy young cucumbers. I "drank" twelve myself, but we had not had time to satisfy ourselves when the Prussian artillery got the range again and we had to get out of the field--those of us who could. I have heard some "cussing" during my career in the army, but I don't think I ever listened to anything quite like the brand that accompanied our departure from that field. After marching a considerable distance, we were billeted in barns in a small village. This was a cheering circumstance, as the farmer gave us chickens and allowed us to get vegetables to make up a _real_ warm meal, which I can assure you was enjoyed royally. We expected to stay here some time, so we made for the barns and lay down among the hay. I don't think you could possibly form an idea of the _utter_ weariness of the men or of the manner in which we were incessantly harassed. We never got a decent chance to eat, drink, or rest. The incidents of the cornfield and the cucumber patch are typical. Many men died of sheer exhaustion. When we entered the barn I was so absolutely petered out that I went to sleep almost before my body touched the hay. We had been in the barn only about two hours when there was a great commotion. I waked up half suffocated, but I didn't care. Somebody kicked me in the ribs as I was turning over to sleep again. "_The barn's on fire!_" he yelled. There was an odour of paraffin. It seemed that some German agent had started the fire. Probably it was the owner of the place, using German "kultur." Germany had left scores of such spies planted in the country, after 1871. After the fire in the barn we got a couple of hours more sleep, then moved off again about three o'clock in the morning. We were on the Metz road going east, but did not know it until our officers informed us that we were heading toward the Franco-German frontier. They were ever optimistic and helped to lighten the burdens of men who were on the last lap by carrying sometimes the rifles of four of them at one time on their shoulders. In the afternoon we came to Coulommiers. Most of the inhabitants were leaving, and a herald--such as existed in the Middle Ages,--was going through the town beating a kettle-drum and crying to all the civilians to take everything they could carry and leave the place. But this herald was a middle-aged woman. About two o'clock that same day, we were on the banks of a stream and the whole regiment began making preparations for a swim. Some were already in the water, but had scarcely got entirely wet when the German artillery began churning the water with shrapnel. The bodies of many of my comrades went floating down stream.