"Why? Because when once you're in it, you stay there. Made a captain after fifteen years' service, I waited ten more for--can you guess what? A trumpery bit of rubbish, the military cross!" He continued: "When I retired, I was used up, done! The time for aspiring to something higher was past, or at all events for the realisation of it. I was made a tax-collector. That was all that was left for me!" Yes, theirs was an odd fate, I thought, the peace-time soldiers, who come out and mature, acquire lace and age, and end by disappearing without having realised that for which they imagined they were born. I said in order to console him: "But since you're fighting to-day...." He drew himself up: "Exactly. To-day I'm fighting. I am taking risks, I obey and command; I am, in fact, of some use. At my age, if I had been in the reserve, they'd have left me at the depôt!" He tossed his head. "It's true. Taking everything into account, I don't think I regret anything." His eyes shone. Of some use! Yes, indeed, this company commander, who had three hundred men in his charge, and played his part conscientiously, had used and not abused the power placed in his hands. It was the eternal swing of the pendulum. Greatness after Servitude! He went on with his confidences. "You'll laugh at me! The things I was keenest about were the studies which form the crown of our art--strategy and tactics. To handle masses of men, and face those many-sided problems--the offensive, the pursuit, the retreat.... I worked a lot on my own account. There are some questions on which I don't think ... any one could catch me out." He was working himself up. Fancy holding the fate of a section in your hands! Or being commander-in-chief on a day when the victory he has prepared comes to pass. At this point a little irony crept into my thoughts and chilled my admiration for him. What was to become of all these ambitions of a company commander in this fine "dug-out" from St. Maixent? The idea of exploiting his mania occurred to me. I might get some interesting information out of him.... I looked at him. "Well, what do you think of the situation at the moment?" Did he guess my secret tendency to sarcasm? A struggle seemed to be going on in him. Mistrust obviously won the day. He would not lay himself open to ridicule. He treated me to the usual commonplace. We must hold on, and leave the Russians time to throw all their weight into the balance. It was a necessity for the Germans to finish us off quickly. "Then you don't think we ought to meet their attack?" "That depends!" "Well then, do you think our retreat is nearly over?" "Ask Joffre!" I sounded him: "Some people consider that we ought to go and wait for the enemy on the Loire." That was too much for him. He cried: "Oh, no, no. That would be absolutely idiotic. I know there was some talk of it!" "How far, then?" He hesitated: "I hope some day we may be in a position to take the offensive again!"