How long and sad is this road. It is a veritable Calvary for me and I stagger lamentably; these last days have proven almost too much——
"Lieutenant, why doesn't our artillery respond any more?" Poulet asked me several times.
"I do not know, mon petit, we are going through grave times, but we must not get discouraged. Have confidence!"
CÔTE-DE-L'OIE.
February 25, 1916.
Someone who must be amazed is the surgeon-in-chief of Gondrecourt!
I arrived at his hospital in the early morning in Colonel Gency's automobile, who announced my coming by telephone——
A hospital attendant tore off my tunic, cut off my shirt, baring a bloody chest——
"We are going to give you an anti-tetanus injection, radiograph you, and to commence with, I'm going to call the surgeon-in-chief——"
While the attendant was gone, I hurriedly dressed myself and left—English fashion. Luckily Colonel Gency's automobile was still there. I had no fear of pain, or the boches, but I don't like doctors!
I went through Cumières like a shooting star would pierce a rain of projectiles and sought refuge at Côte-de-l'Oie, where I know they will not come to search for me——