Our column was lengthening. I waited for the stragglers. "Come along! Donnadieu, Trichet!..." The ground sloped down towards the river. We were surprised by a strange, fetid smell in the air, which was oddly out of keeping with this harmonious countryside, gilded by the summer. We tried to make out what it was. "Corpses!" "And not French ones either!" It was a fact that these grey forms lying in the grass were Germans--a regular hecatomb. Rows upon rows of dead bodies, which, in some places, we had to step over.... When had they fallen there? A day or two before no doubt. The men drew each other's attention to some ravens wheeling overhead or perched near by, croaking. _Pouah!_ I thought of nothing but how to keep my nose covered. The men were less horrified, and seemed on the contrary interested, some of them almost amused. They were brutes, at heart, with no respect for anything! Lamalou made a vile remark, revived from Sylla: "It's Bosche. It smells good!" CHAPTER X A MOMENT'S RESPITE We reached the river which I afterwards discovered was the Loison. There was no difficulty there. Some foot-bridges had been erected, which bent beneath our weight till they touched the water. On the other bank we were greeted by some Engineers. "We've been working the water-wheel for you foot-sloggers! Isn't that worth a drink?" We replied: "In Berlin!" The torrent of shells still continued, but passed over our heads. Our field-guns retorted, but only feebly, as we were well aware. We began to clamber up the other side of the valley. More corpses! On our right we could see the smoking ruins of a village. But our morale had much improved, for we had just crossed the water-bed where the enemy's efforts had spent themselves in vain for three whole days. Pffmm...! Pffmm...! We looked up. "Pills?" Bullets. Yes! An unpleasant sensation. In the fields on a line with us, we caught sight of isolated soldiers (rotters--the lost lot), lying down or cowering on the ground, others dragging themselves along on their knees, or limping along. Where the deuce was the enemy? Perhaps at the edge of that wood about twelve hundred yards away, but invisible, needless to say. A bank skirted a cross-road running along the side of the hill. We went towards it. Cover! Everyone felt the need of a real halt. The wish was fulfilled. We formed into sections. Guillaumin greeted me with: "Any of you hit? I was very much afraid so, for a minute!" "A man named Blanchet," I said; "a splinter in the stomach!" "Poor devil! Two kids, I believe!" "And what about your lot?" "Nobody. Not like the first. A shell made an awful mess of them." "Frémont?" "He wasn't touched, luckily." Breton, the quartermaster-sergeant, joined us. "Halloa, you chaps, going strong?" We answered cordially: "Not so bad for a start." "We've done jolly well!" he said with naïve delight. The captain came up accompanied by two subalterns. Some of the men began to get up.