It is getting dark. I continue to advance, somewhat shakily, but that matters little.
The bridge! I show my evacuation order to a captain. So gently does he say the words: "Pass, my dear fellow," that a scruple comes over me, and I say—
"I am not wounded, you know, I am only ill."
Vénizel. I meet Perron, the head stretcher-bearer of the 352nd. He is going to Billy, to bring away some wounded. He offers to accompany me, and takes my arm. Two more kilometres in the dark. Fortunately we know the country well. The cannon having stopped, the sudden silence is somewhat disconcerting. There is a buzzing sound in my ears.
Perron knows no one at Billy, so I take him to the people who found accommodation for us in October. They have not forgotten Lieutenant Roberty.
"He is surely not dead?" they ask.
"No, he has been evacuated."
"And your other friends?"
"Ah! yes, where are they? This morning they were still alive, but now——"
A man belonging to the 21st saw Belin about noon, engaged with his bayonet in the trenches. By questioning everybody, right and left, I learn that in all probability the 24th company has lost fewer men than any other of the regiment.