"'Nom de Dieu, father, so you let your wounded die of thirst—that's a rotten trick! Here! drink this—you!' the poilu said, handing his canteen to the boche——"
HE! NETTANCOURT.
August, 1916.
"Since you are fighting near him—what is he?"
"Persevering;
"Energetic;
"Triumphant;
"Ardent;
"Intrepid;
"Nil-melior!"[27]
THE OLD TERRITORIAL ON SENTRY DUTY AT THE
MONTMIRAL RAILROAD CROSSING.
September, 1916.
I left Paris during the night in an automobile and am returning to General Quarters. I have fallen asleep on the way——
A brusque stop! I open my eyes——
An old territorial flashes a lantern in my face—a railroad track crossed the road——
"What is the name of this place, mon petit?"