I went up and down, warning them not to waste ammunition. I watched Corporal Donnadieu for a few minutes. How would he manage with his mutilated hand? Well, he used nothing but his left hand to rest his rifle on. It grazed one of the stumps and forced him to stifle an exclamation of pain. He did not lose a single second in firing and recharging in spite of his puckered forehead and clenched teeth. "Good for you, old chap," I said. He did not answer, but his eyelashes fluttered. Our trench lacked depth, the firing-steps were missing--a grave cause of fatigue. I reproached myself bitterly for our slackness the day before. If only we had taken the trouble to dig a little bit deeper, to fetch wood, and arrange loopholes. The Bosches manoeuvred skilfully. Some of them crouched down and facilitated their comrades' advance by firing. Then they took their turn at advancing while the others protected them. There was nothing for us to do but to fire. Fire without ceasing for an instant, even under a hail of bullets. The men had realised this sanguinary obligation. There was no need for leadership. It was splendid to see them, taking aim without hurrying themselves over it, under the deadly torrent. The casualties began immediately. Trichet was the first to fall with a hole through his neck. A machine-gun of theirs had just begun to talk, and things were looking black in other ways. The shells which, for a long time, had been negligible, now began to find the range in the most alarming manner. The ground shook. Three men in No. 2 platoon had their heads taken off at a blow. The enemy was drawing nearer, and was not more than about four hundred yards away now. I confess I was extremely miserable. Another quarter of an hour and they would be within charging distance. We should have to meet this human avalanche and we should not be one to their five. I almost formed the cowardly wish that we might retire without waiting any longer. How agonising it was. We should certainly never be strong enough to withstand them. A wave of irritation rose in me against our artillery which was incapable of intervening at the right moment, having been completely annihilated by the heavy German batteries, and also against the superior military authorities who gave us no support. And I was paralysed by a sudden fear. We were using a lot of cartridges. Suppose our supplies were to give out! Playoust would be sure to be stopping ever so far behind with his waggons. What a ridiculous idea it had been to entrust him with that work.