Wednesday, 11th November.
Distribution of tent canvas to each man. At three o'clock the company mounts to the outposts. Verrier, who has been unwell for some days past, remains in the grotto. It rains the first part of the night.
In the first-line trenches there is no cover: two upright walls of mud. We sit on the ground when we are tired. Maxence says—
"Fling a cover over my head, so that I may smoke a cigarette without being seen."
Not a shot fired to-day.
Thursday, 12th November.
A fine, cold day. The morning mist clears away. Absolute calm. At eight o'clock the cooks, fully equipped and with rifles slung across their shoulders, bring in the soup. A bad sign. They say—
"The company attacks at a quarter-past ten."
"Ah! Good!"
The chiefs of the section confirm the news. The men whistle in a tone that is full of meaning. This time it seems to be serious.