“If the Boches get through, sir, it won’t be my company’s fault. It has done all that could be done to block their way.”
After this report he closes his eyes. The major returns to his post. The captain is left alone with a hospital orderly amid a wailing and groaning throng of wounded. A moment later he asks for Cadet Buffet. But Cadet Buffet is in the thick of the fray with the rest of his company.
“He must not be sent for, then,” says the dying man.
A little later Cadet Buffet comes in of his own accord to visit him. The platoon being in danger of having its flank turned, what was left of it had to cleave a passage for itself in order to re-enter the fort.
“Come near me, boy; you who are from Dijon, if you get back safe from the war, you will tell my wife how I died.”
The captain is at peace with his men and with his conscience as a leader, and his thoughts turn towards his home. These were his last words. From now onwards, until the death that comes a few hours later, he devotes all his strength to avoiding any outward sign of the ghastly wounds that he could not survive.
Already his name is rushing through the night, borne by a carrier-pigeon which flew off from the fort at three o’clock in the morning:
“The enemy is around us. I must honourably mention the gallant Captain Tabourot, of the 142nd, who has been very badly wounded; we are still holding out.”
A few hours later, a second pigeon announces his death:
“Captain Tabourot of the 142nd died a glorious death, his wound being received while he was defending the north-eastern breach. I recommend him for the Legion of Honour.”