CHAPTER XIV
THE SONGS OF THE HOMELAND
Fontaine-les-Cappy is some hundred yards from the lines.
It is a reserve position to which the company was sent the day before in expectation of an attack which may come at any moment.
It is raining as it hasn’t stopped raining for weeks. We had floundered in the mud for five hours and were splashed by an endless string of convoys to get here from Villers where the regiment had scarcely begun a few short days of rest.
The men were tired out and threw themselves on the filthy straw. They have slept nearly all day, and this evening in groups they try their hardest to organize a respectable meal from the means at their disposal. The wine flows from full canteens, and flasks of cheap brandy come out of the packs.
The section leaders advise them to save some of their provisions for the next day.
“To-morrow! What do you think? To-morrow we’ll lunch with the Boches. You! I’ll pay you in sauerkraut.”
Conversation gradually grew less amid the falling darkness and the smoke of pipes.
The silence became profound.