He flings at us the mild though superior look of a horseman for a foot-soldier.
"The Germans are firing at us from a distance of twelve kilometres with their 210's. It's right enough waging war, but not when the advantage is all on one side."
And off he goes. I look back and see him tossing his head.
A staff officer comes up at a gentle trot.
"What are you all doing here?" he asks.
"Artillery supports, mon capitaine."
"Don't you see that your artillery is gone? You had better do the same. We are falling back."
From the crest the section descends into a smiling valley, through which winds a stream. A hostile aeroplane flies right above us; it drops a fuse in the form of a smoking serpent.
Ironical exclamations—
"What's that filth? Just look at it!"