I pulled out my map.
"Seventeen kilometres."
"Oh, Lord!"
And the poor fellows wiped the great beads of perspiration from their dusty necks and faces.
"Bring up a bottle of wine. I'll stand for the drinks," called a man from a corner of the cafe.
"What regiment do you belong to?"
"L'Escadron du train."
My heart leapt with expectancy.
"Do you know a man named H.?"
"No."