“Will you come with me, Margis?”
Cigarette between his lips, leaning carelessly on his curved handled cane, as though he were going for a morning walk through the fields, he advances, standing very straight, without hurrying, and without losing an inch of his great height.
The men understand. Five seconds later we are in the crater and in less time than it takes to tell it the gun begins to fire like the rest.
The enemy’s artillery has now changed its objective. It now aims its fire on the assaulting wave.
We return to our shelter. The spectacle is wonderful. Almost without losses, our waves reach the first of the enemy’s lines and clear them at a bound.
“Lengthen the fire.... On the second position.... Farther ... on the third; on the fortified emplacement; to the left of the woods.... Fire, fire, fire, nom de Dieu!”
The fire on our sector begins again more violently than ever. We have bothered the enemy and he wants to silence us.
Three out of four of our guns are silent. The fourth, the last one to arrive, with all the rapidity of its fire, alone sustains the attack of our infantry. The wonderful little machine devours without a skip the endless munitions which the crew have difficulty in bringing to it.
“Fire, Adjutant, fire! Don’t stop. Give it to them,” shouts the lieutenant, seized by the fever of battle.
And the adjutant fires, fires without stopping. Our wave reaches its objective, the enemy flees, whole companies surrender.