For a long time we prevented them from moving. We saw the horde get up in a flock and dash forward twenty times or more. At the same instant we met them with our fire, coldly precise. Their leaders, who were urging them on, were recognisable, not so much by their uniform as by their movements. Many of them were hit and the ardour of the troops diminished. They were well-drilled infantry, but they lacked keenness. We lost all interest in everything but this narrow strip of ground swept by our fire. I put down my rifle which had burnt my fingers. The mechanism had got jammed in several places and I mended it as if in a dream. We did not fire incessantly. There were moments of inaction when I tried to analyse my feelings in accordance with my old intellectualism. I came to grief over it. My ideas got blocked, and I gripped the trail of my Lebel, my one object in existence. One thought alone subsisted in the void of my brain, and I clung to it. Those men must not be allowed to take another step in our direction. * * * * * All notion of time was lost again. I remember that I looked for the sun in the sky. It was shining a long way from the point at which I had expected to find it. My wrist watch had stopped, the glass was broken. From time to time Guillaumin came to look me up and make some remark such as "Hot work, what!" This time he leant towards me and said something which I could not quite catch. I got him to repeat it. "What?" Ah. Now I understood. How many rounds had my men got left? "Mine have about fifteen," he said. "About the same here, too." We looked at each other. I murmured: "And what about the replenishment." "Ssh!" He put his finger to his lips. As if the men had not noticed the imminent penury! Several of them had applied to Lamalou for some of his share. Luckily the enemy's fire was weakening equally. Both sides were drawing breath. The Germans' heavy artillery never paused for an instant. The explosions of enormous "Jack Johnsons" barked all round us. One of them, which fell less than twenty yards away, dug a hole of ten feet and filled part of our trench with the earth it displaced. Guillaumin and I threw despairing glances towards the rear. The look of the wood had changed completely since morning. A wood? There was not a tree standing! Guillaumin grumbled: "If I could get hold of Playoust!" I quite agreed. CHAPTER XX WE ARE NOT DEFEATED How stiff I was. I stretched. Every joint was aching. I started off, meaning to go all along the bit of line held by the platoon. The trench was so narrow that the men had to glue themselves against the parapet in order to let me pass. I forced myself to give a friendly word of encouragement to each man. I suddenly bumped into a body. Gaudéreaux! The poor fellow's skull had been crushed like a nut.