The mud in Fumin-wood (Verdun)
The brave poilus do not permit themselves the pleasures of complete inactivity. Whatever spot they may find themselves in, they organize and "dig themselves in" as if they must remain for the rest of their lives!
A poilu is working arduously over a little board hut. He has running around him two of his "loves," small pigs, plump and rosy. It is understood they will be eaten, but not before the squad finds them completely "à point."[30] While waiting it is necessary to keep them in a shelter and our poilu will quickly finish the sumptuous dwelling for his favorites.
My comrade, busy looking around while awaiting the general, becomes interested in the conscientious labors of the man——
"Is it for them you are working?"
"Yes, captain, I am making them a wonderful P.C."
THE GENDARMES' SOUP.
March, 1917.
I return from Fort Douaumont and am worn out. An automobile is coming to meet me at Galavaude Bridge and I am waiting for it——