"Yes," he said, "there is Haucourt, but I believe Bosche is in part of it, or he was this morning. It's about two kilos from here. I shouldn't go if I were you unless you get further information; I am expecting another patrol in from there. If you care to wait a few minutes you may learn something."
I agreed to wait, the "still" man came in just then, and he agreed to come with me.
"We may as well risk it," I said. "I will take my old bus into the place. If Bosche sees it he may mistake it again for an armoured car."
So, packing the cameras aboard, I waited for the expected patrol to turn up. Half an hour passed; no sign. Daylight was waning.
"I am going on," I said to the "still" man, "we cannot wait for the patrol, there's not time. Will you come?"
"Yes," he said.
I told the C.O. of my intention.
"It's thundering risky," he said. "You're going into new ground again."
I left Vraignes and advanced at a cautious pace in the direction of Haucourt. Rifle-fire was proceeding in the distance, which I judged was the other side of the village. A destroyed sugar refinery on the left was still smoking. It had been blown up by the Huns and the mass of machinery was flung and twisted about in all directions.
In the village I stopped the car close by a crucifix, which was still standing.