Here is the trench, into which we leap. Now the bullets pass over our heads.
Reymond is by my side. The spurt has put us out of breath also. We smile at each other.
"Things are serious this morning, eh?"
"I should think so!"
The firing becomes more intense. Some one in front cries—
"Maman!"
We all give a start and look at each other. Who is the man who uttered that shriek of distress?
We hear some one say—
"It's Mignard. He is killed."
From eight to ten men of the section engaged crawl towards us, groaning and moaning.