How long did that march under artillery fire last? We covered a good bit of ground, two or three broad undulations. We halted, and reformed and advanced. From time to time we came across an enormous hole, five or six feet across and three feet deep, which we had to go round. "Pretty useful, their 'coal boxes,' to make such pits." Happily, Judsi, cried: "They're digging a grave for the Kaiser!" My one idea was to keep my intervals. Bouillon asked me whether a river we were coming to was the Meuse. I made him repeat it. A river? Why so there was.... The Othain perhaps? For everyone was talking about it.... "How are we to get across? Swim?" I was asking myself the same question. The bursts of firing grew less frequent. We advanced in rushes, for longer distances, but not so fast. We felt comparatively safe. Our attention was beginning to wander.... "Lie down! We're in for it now!" There was a terrible explosion close by, on our left ... a flash, and a stinging blast. I saw Bouguet put his hand up to his cap; a bit of the peak had gone. Looking up, I shouted: "Anything the matter?" "Yes!" The squall was not over. Never mind that! I ran along. A man was writhing on the ground. "It's Blanchet," said Judsi. "Where's he hit?" "In the bread-basket." The poor fellow was lying doubled up on his side. He was holding back his guts with his two hands stuck through a hole in his greatcoat. At a movement he made to push his gun aside, I caught sight of them.... I was petrified with horror, just as I had been one evening when I had seen a child pulled from under a tram. But I realised that everyone's gaze was fixed on me. I said: "Donnadieu, he's in your half-section, isn't he?" The corporal did not answer. His face was mottled, and there were beads of perspiration on his forehead. "You must ... take away his ammunition!" I continued. He hesitated, then bent down with terrible repugnance, and touched the wounded man's cartridge-pouches. He had some difficulty in opening them, because his hands were trembling. Blanchet was giving in, his eyes were growing dim, and yet he had the courage to move a little to enable us to undo his haversack, which was also emptied. I repeated: "Come along! Come along. Hurry up!" Donnadieu murmured: "I say, Sergeant, surely you won't leave him like that?" I read in his eyes the vague hope of staying behind, of slinking away.... "Come along! We must catch the others up!" I said impatiently. Then less harshly: "The stretcher party will come and pick him up; they are sure not to be far off." I bent down over the wounded man: "Do you hear, old chap?" He gave me a poignant look, without uttering a word. I stammered: "You'll be all right, you'll find! _Au revoir!_" Then raising myself I added more firmly: "And now we must get on!" The men followed me, but there were some very painful moments to be got through. "The father of a family!" signed Siméon who knew him.