On the road, in the auto, which is taking me to Mesnil-sur-les-Côtes, I think of Charles Dubois, whom I shall easily find at the end of my journey.
I will not go to bed in the shelter, without having seen him—God knows, however, what fatigue the last step will bring——
Alone on foot, I will make the hard trip the length of Longeau, a brook, which was torn up enough in 1914 and the beginning of 1915.
During supper tête à tête with Captain Gunther, who welcomed me heartily on my return, I am haunted by the memory of two old ladies——
"What happened in my absence?"
"Nothing in particular, except this morning. We had five men buried by a camouflet—they began at once to recover the bodies. All were killed——"
"I am going above to-night, with your permission——"
"You must go to bed—you look very tired!"
"I have promised a woman to see her son——"