And immediately they smiled and became themselves again——
K. C., VERDUN.
February 28, 1916.
It is night, but a terrible night—the battle is unchained. The heavens, black as ink, are brightened each instant by the flashes of explosions.
German shells which fall in the city make a louder noise than during the preceding days, as if they broke in a cellar——
Not a cry—not a wail—stoicism——
On the roads around the city there is a great bustle of camions, gun carriages and caissons. Then there is the hasty shuffling of troops going into action to-night, and who will relieve their comrades holding the line over there.
All these movements are made silently, without cries, without useless words, but everything moves rapidly——
I direct myself toward the city, when suddenly a small machine stops at my side. A man of athletic stature, who was seated at the chauffeur's side, jumps lightly out of the machine and approaches me.
He flashes his electric pocket lamp, no doubt to see who I am. At first I had taken him for an Englishman, by reason of his khaki uniform.