A single though expressive word is our retort.
Again they shout to us from the enemy's trenches—
"A merry Christmas! Send us some wine."
Then they sing the Marseillaise!
Saturday, 26th December.
This morning we found the water frozen in our cans.
The cooks, when bringing in the soup, assure us that the Hindus have been sent for to make an attack on Crouy. They describe minutely how they are dressed.
"There is a fellow in the train de combat," says "the Fireman," "who has come across them at Soissons."
Thereupon Jacquard cannot contain himself for joy. Being of a most optimistic temperament, he sees the Sikhs and Gurkhas coming down Hill 132 and cutting our invaders' throats. He endeavours to give his foolish face an expression of ferocity, and explains how the Hindus attack.
"The beggars glide about noiselessly in the dark, like serpents. Impossible to hear them coming. Before you are aware they are upon you, cutting your throat with the big knife they hold between their teeth...."