My wife, the sun, the country, the return to life, the walks as of old in the woods, in the hills, the dreams at twilight, the cherished plans, the talk of love. Life is beginning again. Yes, we will begin all that again. And it will be finer now ... after the test.
A great relaxation comes; tears flow. I hardly suffer, but I am weak. I want to sleep.
The stretcher-bearers will come presently, as I know, at nightfall. And through the roof of boughs I see the sun die away and the stars come out.
The bombardment rolls in distant thunder; they say that it is increasing, coming nearer.
Does that mean a counter attack?
The sinister heavy blow of a great Boche shell shakes the earth of my dugout, and the leaves of my roof fall in torrents on my covering.
I already feel anxious to get away. I am afraid now. I dread the final wound which will tear me, shatter me, kill me.
It is dark night. Great drops begin to fall. It is going to rain very hard. The stretcher-bearers have come. I have to move so that they can place me on the stretcher. I feel the warm stream gush out; it is very strong this time.
And I fainted.
At the casualty clearing station at Villers an old major with a white beard gives me an injection of antitetanic serum.