"We were then allowed a short rest after our fifteen-mile walk, before descending to the village, where we are now resting in a barn with some Chasseurs d'Afrique. They are good comrades, these Chasseurs, we make friends at once, and have much to say, each recounting his thoughts and ideas of this war. "Thursday, September 29th—At 7 a. m., we left Rangiere to find our regiment. We met a Taube flying above our heads. Our batteries fired on it, we deploying to offer less of a target. Later it flew towards the German lines, and my company reached a little wood where we spent the night. The shells whistled over our heads all the time; it is not gay, that noise. "Friday, September 30th—Our Battalion has 24 hours' rest. The shells and shrapnels from Germany shriek all day and all night. I asked if these were the big ones. A man laughed and said "No, mon ami, ce sont les enfants." (No, my friend, these are the baby ones.) It never stops, this cannonade and shooting. "Wednesday, October 4th—We are since four days in the front line, in the trenches, like foxes in their holes. The French and German shells never stop howling over our heads. On all sides, noise! noise! noise! "Friday, October 6th—We are of the reserve; we leave our trenches to rest back yonder. On the way I saw the graves of two French soldiers, two crosses of wood at their heads. Ah, how obscure, but how noble, these graves of two sons of France, fallen on the field of honor. "Monday, October 9th—We are back in the trenches. A funny thing has happened. Our sergeant hung his flannel shirt on the parapet of the trench to dry. A German shell burst at 50 metres. He ran in terror to save his shirt. 'Ah!' he cried, 'that would be too much, the dirty Germans, after they have destroyed the Cathedral of Reims, they want to burn my only flannel shirt.' "Tuesday, October 10th—Went to the trench at 6 o'clock. At 7 o'clock our batteries commenced their fire. Our '75' swept the earth for 80 metres in front of us, the enemies' cannonading ceased. Our '75' redoubled in speed; we could hear the boches howling with pain. Then the German marmites recommenced. We assisted at an artillery duel which lasted till noon. The rest of the day and night was quiet. "Wednesday, October 11th—We left this morning at 6 a. m., for an unknown destination. At the entrance of the wood we ate our 'Soupe' and then started on our route. Adieu! woods of the Woevre, we have not been too unhappy in thy valleys and on thy hillsides, although for a month I have not undressed. In the trenches we had little straw and no warmth, rain and cold were our constant companions, but we shall still regret thee, for we may find much worse further on." So he did... He found his death. Extracts from a letter written to his family by a sublieutenant from the battlefield of Champagne, October 23rd, 1915: