And then at the end of the day the stroke of madness...! Word had been passed along, no one knew where it started from, "Fix bayonets: Charge!" The order rolled on from company to company. They had got up man by man then in ranks.... Forward! They had rushed out, they were covering the ground at a tremendous pace. They felt that their opponents were there, petrified. They were just on the point of falling upon them. They yelled. No retort. Quicker, quicker! It was really marvellous...! But suddenly they realised their mistake. Too late. There was an echo of terror. Along this plantation of trees there was a river. They calculated its width. Not very wide, but too wide to clear at a jump, all the same! "The Othain?" I suggested. "How should I know!" And then--it was all pre-arranged of course!--then the enemy had opened fire with their machine guns at two hundred yards. They all flung themselves flat!... What a panic there had been. The men had thrown themselves desperately into the dark icy water, drowning themselves among the rushes under the very eyes of their companions.... The rest who had no entrenching tools with them, or packs either, were reduced to digging themselves in with their pocket knives and their nails. The enemy, who were coming nearer, calmly continued to ply their infernal "tea kettle" for a whole hour. The result being that there was not a man left out of the two battalions engaged. Not one, untouched! All killed or wounded! "And what about you, Sergeant?" asked Donnadieu, the little red-haired corporal. "Me?" He pulled a wry face. "Napoo'd!" "How do you mean, napoo'd," I exclaimed. "Yes, I've got a ball in my stomach--and as they have not operated----" Ah! that explained his being so doubled up! He climbed back into his cart. "Well, so long, you fellows. Hope you'll have better luck." He added: "Oh! it's blooming funny, this war!" We were subdued and silent. Then Judsi jeered. "Oh, dash it all, the bloke must be pilin' it on. We may 'ave been mauled a bit, likely as not, but wot about them--with our 75's----" "You're right there," Bouillon exclaimed. Another private, who was wounded in the arm, shouted gaily as he passed. "The comedy's over for this child." "Wot, you don't mean to say you're legging it after the first act, you waster?" He had good reason to rejoice. I would have given all I possessed to be in that man's shoes. * * * * * After this, excitement reigned. The rumour spread that a start was near, in fact imminent. The subaltern assured them in vain that he knew nothing of it, that he did not think.... The men repeated the words picked up by the captain's orderly. "Luckily there'll be a moon to-night!" Curfew time arrived, however, without anything happening and we turned in. But a little before midnight the quartermaster's voice was heard at the door. "Turn out! Marching kit!"