Janssens came out of the trench and charged my machine. I was just going to fire, when I was hit on the knee and brought to the ground.
"They have broken my leg!" I said. It certainly was in a strange position, and I pulled it round and stretched it out in front of me. I fired the last strip of cartridges loaded, and all those in the box near me. It was all I could do. Janssens had returned to the trench. I took off my right spur, which was twisting my broken leg, and lay down on my back, with my head on my shako, and a map on my face to protect me from the heat of the sun. It was 12.30. The sky was extremely limpid, with whitish clouds here and there. From time to time, the crows flew slowly by, uttering their hoarse croak.
"What are your orders, Lieutenant?" suddenly said a voice near me.
It was the brave Maréchal, accompanied by Corporal Treize and Private Van Herck of the 53rd.
"What about the 53rd?" I asked.
"It won't work, Lieutenant."
"Where is it?"
"We have put it completely out of use."
"Is there nothing more to be done then?"
"Yes, we are going to move you from here, Lieutenant."