While I was observing the bridge and mill through the waiting-room's glass door, a stray bullet came crashing in to frame my head in a star of cracks, just under a clean round hole. A fig for aureoles! I'm not a saint yet, nor a hero--which fact I demonstrated instantly by a most unheroic back-start. The place was unhealthy; I would have a look elsewhere. Accordingly I went out on the platform. The part for passengers was too exposed--only fit for express despatch into the other world--but what of the goods department? Merchandise has a knack of lingering on local lines, so provident authorities build weather-proof accommodation for it. This goods depot was a splendid specimen of the sort, with stout, breast-high walls, formerly glass roofed. The glass being already smashed, it would not crash down on the men; but the walls stood, a strong parapet from behind which an efficient fire could be poured into hostile trenches. I had got my combat position! The trouble now was to man it. How many of my fellows would live to cross that bullet-swept road? Well, we should see. The first thing was to try and fetch them. Leaving Pierrat with strict injunctions to keep under cover and have a nap if he liked, but on no account to attract the enemy's attention, I sneaked back somehow to my platoon and ordered a move. "Every man will shift for himself," I told them. "Rendezvous this side of the road opposite the station." I knew Chasseurs could be trusted to find their way through anything. My only doubt was whether I should not be outpaced. As a matter of fact, I was by no means the first in, yet not the last. When everybody had joined but those whom it would be no use to wait for, I bade them crouch behind me in a line on the verge of the bullet stream, ready to plunge ahead the moment they heard the word. Presently there came a lull. "Over, lads!" And over we went. Some did not reach the other side. There are tombs opposite the station, each marked by a little wooden cross with a tam-o'-shanter on top, which will be tended so long as any one of us is left. How many? There was no time to count them just then. At last we were in the station. Here I concealed the men behind the parapet, with instructions to cut loopholes and amuse themselves by potting at whatever was worth a shot. At first they did not make much practice. Little by little, however, they spotted places where the Huns offered a target, and then there was sport.