From behind a nearby rising ground come forth a group of men in blue, who will reach me before the officer who is coming over there. It is the chance one, the one among thousands of these little processions which one meets incessantly, alas! along the battle front, and which form, so to speak, part of the stage setting. At its head four soldiers are carrying a stretcher, and others are following, to relieve them. Attracted also by the illusory protection of the branches, they stop instinctively at the entrance of the little wood to take breath and change shoulders. They come from the first-line trenches, which are three or four kilometers away, and are carrying a "gravely wounded" man to an underground hospital, which is some quarter of an hour away. They also had not foreseen this vicious sun that scorches one's head; they are wearing their helmets and cloaks, and they feel the weight of them as much as that of the precious load which they take such pains to carry steadily; more, they drag along, on each foot, a thick shell of sticky mud which gives them feet like elephants, and the sweat runs in big drops over their fine, tired faces. "What is the matter with your wounded man?" I ask in a low voice. In still lower voices they answer me: "He is ripped up the belly--oh! the trench surgeon told us that...." They finish the sentence only with a shake of the head, but I understand. For the rest, he has not stirred. His poor hand remains pressed to his brow and his eyes, doubtless to protect them against the baking sun, and I ask: "Why did you not cover his face?" "We did put a handkerchief over it, Colonel, but he took it away; he said he would rather have it like that, so that he can still see something between his fingers." VII--HOW GLORIOUS IS THE SPIRIT OF FRANCE Ah! but the two last men, besides sweat, have broad smears of blood across their faces and running down their necks. "Oh, nothing much the matter with us, Colonel!" they tell me; "we got that as we came along. We started to carry him along the 'guts,' but it shook him too much; so we came on outside in the open." Poor, admirable dreamer! To save their wounded man from jolting they have risked all their lives! Two or three of these huge death beetles which ceaselessly hum past have smashed themselves near them against the stones and have sprinkled them with their fragments; the Germans do not take the trouble to shoot at a single passerby like myself, but a group, and especially a litter, is irresistible for them. Of the two who are streaming with blood, one is, perhaps, not much the worse, but the other has an ear torn off, and hanging only by a shred of skin. "You must get your wound dressed by the surgeon immediately, my friend," I say to him. "Yes, Colonel, we are on our way there to the hospital. It suits exactly."