"Is anyone hit?" we asked. "No one," came the reply. Another one came presently, and then others. We heard them fall and the ground shook. We tried to go to sleep, but, with our hearts beating fast and our limbs cramped, sleep would not come. More shells arrived. We thought they were exploding farther away, but no, that one was nearer. Then another farther away and, after this, silence again. We were tired of hoping against hope and we all pulled our blankets up and covered our faces. The dawn was slow in coming. There were no more illusions possible for us. As long as the Germans were on this side of the water, life would be unbearable for us. And yet it was a beautiful day and a bird was singing on the broken branch of a tree. It was so good to be alive! Thanks to the shells round here, the graves were ready made. We put the Grenadiers and French who were in the neighborhood into them. Our domain was very limited, and was skirted on every side by death. Presently breakfast was served, bread and jam, cold coffee in aluminium goblets. These were the usual rations, for we had to live in spite of everything. We yawned as we looked out and saw the thin brown lines of the German trenches in front of us. In the afternoon, the aeroplanes were flying about over our heads in the blue sky, and presently the azure road was riddled with white spots. We were all watching them, but we soon had to go in and take shelter, as the splinters fell about with a whirring sound. One of our machines then appeared in pursuit of the others and this was intensely exciting for us. It rushed along like a bird of prey, but unfortunately its victim had time to escape ... and so the time passed. Once more the dance began, and the noise, this time, was formidable and uninterrupted. Again the big shells tore up the ground near us, flinging into the air enormous clouds which hid the light from us. The rubbish fell down like rain, the ground trembled, and our huts shook. The next one came along with a terrible, hissing sound, and then another and another. We wondered whether the cannon would never cease again. For days now, we had heard it like this. At last there was silence once more. We could scarcely believe it at first. The backs of our necks ached and our ears were on the alert. What was the meaning of this wonderful silence? We could not hear the machine-gun. Well, then ... our assault must have succeeded.... We could not believe this. It was too good to be true. In spite of everything, our breasts were swelling with joy and the men burst out singing the _Marseillaise_. Oh, if we could only know what had happened! Presently a soldier came our way. "What's the news?" cried out our men. He looked at us in a dazed way, holding his metal cup in his hand. "News of the assault?" he said. "It's been put off." * * * * *