There, thirty yards away, on the right is a knoll. That is our objective which we must occupy to prevent the enemy’s reserves coming up.
We draw nearer; my heart begins to beat violently. It is nervousness. It is the beginning of the end.
Suddenly a sharp noise stops me; then another beside my ear. Instinctively I throw myself on the hill. A sergeant falls near me without a word. He is dead, a bullet in the middle of his forehead.
We are under the fire of a machine gun which defends the approach to our objective.
The bullets whistle in a continuous buzz around us. A sharp burning pain, like a sting; a cry stops in my throat, on my very lips. I fall.
The fusillade rages. To the right, to the left, around me everywhere, bullets bury themselves in the ground. I am wounded, but where? All my limbs are numb.
I feel a hand take mine and grasp it. It is the lieutenant, who has already come running to me.
“Good-by for the present.”
“For the present.”