This time we run as fast as we can, stumbling over the débris, tripping over the dead, rolling into shell holes, tearing our clothes, hands, and faces on the barbed wire.
We flee, absolutely breathless, across old trenches which we see only when their depths yawn before our steps.
We flee haggard, in a mad delirium, terrified, pursued by the vision of our dead, of their dim faces, their torn brows, their glassy eyes, their twisted mouths, which the shells still mangle ... which the enemy kill again in their sleep of death.
We flee encircled by the rattle of the fire which pursues us, and which with us draws near the road which we wish to reach and it to bar.
A more violent puff, and close by, grazes our heads.
“Attention!... Stop.... To earth!”
A violent shock, a heavy blow between the shoulders, a hard vice grips my body and throws me on the ground.
I fall.
I fall, and then I remember nothing more.