Ten men imitated him of their own accord. They finished tearing it down amidst a storm of shells which raged about, and in the black smoke of the explosions in which they disappeared for minutes at a time.
In a quarter of an hour the way was clear; all that was left was the two laterals which were planted in the walls of the covered path.
The battalion was engulfed in the whirlpool and passed without loss.
The commander stood on the pile of materials and watched the men file past. He was the last one over.
When we reached the line, he began to walk up and down incessantly.
The fire of our batteries had been uninterrupted for three days; and this with the constant whizzing of shells as they passed over our heads put our nerves almost as much on edge as the strain of the approaching attack.
Towards eleven o’clock one night there was an intense calm all of a sudden.
The firing ceased along the whole line—on both sides. All was silence, but it was the silence which precedes the storm, the stupor of nature after the flash and before the thunder.
The men burrowed in the saps and fell asleep. The sentries who had not closed an eye for forty-eight hours continued to fight against sleep.