Acting on orders received from General Voyron, who had just taken over the command of the 2nd Brigade at Bac-Ninh, small parties were sent out on several occasions in hopes of surprising the convoy.
They were concealed in one of the deserted villages along the paths supposed to be frequented by the rebels, and at points from which a good view of the track for some distance could be obtained. I took part several times in these small expeditions. One of them is perhaps worthy of mention, since it provided some excitement for all those who assisted in it.
Our detachment on this occasion consisted of eight Legionaries, and as many tirailleurs, under the order of a corporal of our regiment. We proceeded due south about 3 miles along the high road to Cao-Thuong to a fine pagoda, the wall of which skirted the highway. Just facing the entrance to the building, and at right angles to the main road which it joined, was a small path that ran across the fields to the west, and was visible for about 400 yards, afterwards turning off sharp to the left behind a range of small hillocks covered with long grass.
At the apex of the angle formed by the junction of this path and the main road was a big banyan tree with a clump of bushes at its base.
It was here that our ambuscade was placed, after a scouting party had gone through a big empty village, situated just behind the pagoda, and it was certain that there existed no sign of occupation, or trace of a recent passage of the enemy.
Six Legionaries, two natives and the corporal remained behind the pagoda wall, and through the open brickwork in the top part of it they could see across the fields. Together with four tirailleurs I was posted on the opposite side of the road. We were a little to the right of the others, our backs towards them, behind the clump of bushes at the foot of the banyan.
Perched up on one of the branches of this tree and concealed by its dense foliage was a Legionary, who, from the position he occupied, obtained a fine view to the south and west: these being the only directions from which our position could be approached, since the bamboo hedge of the village behind us skirted the road to the east for at least 500 yards, and nothing could come from the north without being seen by our sentries at Nha-Nam, who had received orders to keep a sharp look-out.
It was ten in the morning before we had settled down. Our instructions were to reserve our fire, and, if possible, capture one of the enemy alive.
The heat was terrible—this was in the second week in June, and the rains had not broken—and although, thanks to the shade from the tree above me, I could doff my helmet and profit by the occasional light puffs of breeze, just sufficient to move the airy foliage of the bamboo, it required all my energy to fight against the invading drowsiness.