We went into the neighbouring field through a gap in the hedge. Gaudéreaux bent down and picked up a clod of earth. He sniffed at it. "Pooh!" he said. "It ain't up to ours!" The lieutenant heard him, and reproved him for it. "It's the same thing, it's French soil. It's what we are going to be killed for." Did he count on producing an effect? The other gazed at him, dumbfounded! * * * * * A little walk indeed! I chewed the word with rage during the seven hours that this march lasted. Did they think it was the right way...? The right way to discourage the men! No respite except the hourly halts, and they managed to cheat over them, by not whistling until the hour, or an hour and five minutes was up, or cutting them short by two minutes! If there was one thing that astonished me it was the goodwill and endurance, which I saw manifested all round me. "Grouse," the first day? Oh no, that was out of the question! A praiseworthy resolution! When going through the villages, the men found a way, even when absolutely done up, of putting on a spurt, and making eyes at all the pretty girls! Judsi sang snatches of very doubtful songs, which made some of them laugh, while others, their more flighty sisters, blew us kisses. Corporal Bouguet all at once started a marching song: the men joined in the chorus: the captain did not interfere, but the commanding officer came rushing up, a pot-bellied puppet, perched up on his big horse. Oh, come along! What was all this? Would they shut up? Would they never think of the war as something to be taken seriously? This rating was upsetting. Another incident helped to damp their spirits. The distracted group we passed on the roadside ... a lieutenant, a corporal, the cyclist, and an auxiliary medical officer, surrounding a man stretched on the ground, a reservist who had just fallen out. I caught sight of a violet face and glassy eyes. The rumour spread that it was a fit. The name of the man was soon discovered; he belonged to the 21st company, and was named Gaspard Métairie, a coppersmith from F----. Dead? Oh, yes! lying there like a log! I listened to the men's remarks. Poor wretch! It made one's heart bleed. So soon. And so stupidly. If it had been some of the Bosches' work there would have been nothing to be said. But like that! Simply tired out! Fathers of families, just think! Carrying the full weight!... But what was the good of fussing? The war would not be over this evening! "Oh, a lot they care wot becomes of us," Loriot said. "I'm done, I am!" He retired on to the footpath. "What's the matter now?" I shouted to him. "No good. Can't go on!" "What can't go on?" "I can't. I'm an old trooper, I am!" He stopped and tried to sit down. The whole column slowed down, much interested and amused. "March up, confound you!" The captain overtook us. "What's up?"