Arrived there, he resumes his account and his explanations. The General listens to him, watches him, then orders him to take a rest. The young man, at the end of his tether, goes to bed. A few hours later, having washed, shaved, and had a meal, he already looks a different being.
Once more he goes before the General. Matters are urgent; a serious problem has to be solved. An attack has been arranged to relieve the fort. It will be started in a few hours. Major Raynal may contribute towards its success. Let him signal, if he can, the position of the enemy machine-guns on the fort, let him thus direct the artillery fire during the night; he will help in the operation. While the work is going on elsewhere, let him detain the enemy in the interior passages. But how is one to get into touch with him? Several times, reconnoitring and water fatigue parties have tried to do so. They have not been able to cross the gorge: they have been brought to a halt or mown down by the German curtain fires, or perhaps by the machine-gun which the commandant himself has had installed to guard the southern ditch. One who is thoroughly acquainted with the fort, who knows its ins and outs, might possibly carry out so hazardous a mission. Cadet Buffet is the only one who possesses these qualifications.
“I’ll go,” says the lad, without letting the General finish.
The General, whose only son has been killed, beams at him with a paternal look.
“This is not an order, my friend”—he must have been very nearly saying “my son”—“what I ask of you is something more than your duty. To get away from the fort was a fine performance. I don’t order you to go back there.”
“I’ll go,” repeats Buffet stoutly.
“Of course you’ll be rewarded: the Legion of Honour or the Military Medal.”
“Oh no!” protests the cadet; “I’ll go for nothing.”
A staff officer asks for the privilege of accompanying him.
“I would rather go alone,” he says. “When we get there, things will be easier if I am alone. Besides, I want entire freedom of movement.”