all terrified. The cannonading keeps on all the time: the shooting is intermittent during the day and almost incessant during the night. Whenever there is a lull, the prolonged roar of the Ypres cannon in the distance is deafening. All this noise gets on our nerves, which are already at full tension. _October 26th._ Dixmude, Kapelhoek. At six in the morning, we were suddenly roused by a firing almost in our ears. The bullets lodged in our walls. It was evidently an alert. A Commander came back to us calling out: "The Germans are 400 yards away!" We got up in haste, amazed at what we heard. On looking out, we were greeted by a hailstorm of bullets. They seemed to come from all sides at once, so that it seemed as though we were surrounded. We took counsel together quickly. "To the guns," was the order "and shrapnel fire at short distance!" It was impossible to get to the batteries. The morning mist was hanging over everything. We could see only indistinct figures moving about. There was a moment's lull in the firing and our men rushed to the guns. The zeal of one of our gunners was fortunately calmed in time. He was just about to aim at one of our own patrols. "What is the meaning of this? Where are they? What is the matter?" were the questions everyone was asking. About fifty Germans had crossed the Yser and search was being made for them. I rushed off to Headquarters to give this information and to bring help. I met a patrol of Dragoons, another of Fusiliers, and a third of Carabineers. The alarm had been given. At the Admiral's Headquarters, everyone was up and discussing the incident. An enemy detachment had crossed the river and caused a panic, thanks to its firing, but at daybreak the troops had pulled themselves together, the positions were reoccupied, and the hunt was taking place. I went out towards Dixmude and, in a ditch, I saw two Germans lying face downwards in the mud. On the other side the road were two blue-jackets, with their sweaters unbuttoned and the blood flowing freely. A girl, half wild with anxiety, rushed across to me. She had been helping an old woman along. "Oh, sir, my mother is dying; something to put her on, so that she can be carried!" I could only point to the Headquarters. Just then a stretcher passed by, carried by four of the Fusiliers. On it was the dead body of Commander Jeanniot. His face was covered with a handkerchief, but his crushed arm was hanging down and he had a fearful wound in his thigh. There were dead bodies heaped up on the Dixmude bridge. One of them was still hanging on to the railings, which he had clutched in his death-agony. All of them had quantities of wounds, holes in their breasts, and eyes wide open, scared by the frightful sights they had seen. Beyond the bridge were heaps of dead bodies, lying _pele-mele_ with their stiff limbs intermingled and their coagulated blood on the pavement.