"One of them, every time a shell broke near him, responded with a shot from his rifle, so that several times his comrades, passing by the opening in the shelter, got ready to dash out, believing the enemy was attacking. Finally they shouted at him:
"'Nom de Dieu, what do you mean by shooting like that with your rifle——'
"'Eh! les vieux, I'm laying down a barrage!'"
NENETTE AND RINTININ! CHÂLONS-SUR-MARNE.
March, 1917.
"The morale of our poilus," cried our comrade Delormes, "is simply magnificent!" I have just bought some writing paper at the store of petite Antoinette, who was literally jubilant the moment I entered her shop. She received a letter from her husband, who is fighting on Maisons-de-Champagne Hill. She made me read the missive, which I would like to see awarded a prize by the Academy:
"Do not worry, my Nenette," it read, "we will beat these brutes! Here, our bowels are firm! But what we are doing to them! But above all, don't worry!"
It was signed "Rintintin!"
AT THE HOSPITAL OF CHAUMONT-SUR-ÈRES.
March, 1917.
The poor boy will suffer no longer—he passed away quietly. The nurse is bent over him, and, one after the other, closes his eyes——
She is deeply moved on seeing her poilu go! This exquisite creature, wife of one of our comrades, loves her wounded with all her soul!