"On the contrary!"
The idea appealed to me. By gad, I was not sorry to be able to stretch my legs. I chose four men. Bouillon who had just been on outpost duty absolutely insisted on being one of them. He was not going to let me go alone. He was certainly a good chap!
We plunged into the darkness. Hardly had we gone a hundred yards before it seemed as if we were a hundred miles away from the picket and its protection. We were in the middle of the forest, the gloom was intense. Silent raindrops dripped on to our shoulders and caps from the foliage above our heads. My companions followed in my footsteps. I was not only ahead of this patrol, but ahead of the whole army, a daring explorer sent out towards the enemy, who was perhaps lying in ambush. I often stood still and silently gazed into the darkness. I had told my men to regulate their movements by mine, but we were almost invisible to each other. Sometimes I distinguished ... that noise of muffled marching ... didn't it come from in front? Or again when I heard some branch crack in the under-wood, my heart thumped unevenly; I caught my breath; I thought I made out forms, phantoms crouching, yonder ... ready to hurl themselves.... How agonising it was!
How much more courage I had need of than when under fire. I regretted yesterday's danger in comparison. I opened my mouth to shout, "Everyone for himself!" My trembling knees wanted to fly. But here, as on the day before, what urged me on against my will was the presence of the men who saw in me their leader. The consciousness of my rôle, of my authority which must be kept up, seized me by the collar. I had to go on, and I went on. I got safely past the place where I had feared the ambush. For a moment I was delighted to have surmounted this terror, delighted even to have experienced it. What a chapter it added to my campaign impressions! What a joy it would be one day to recall these deadly terrors, if only I escaped them.
It was an interminable journey. The subaltern had told me to follow the road up to the edge of the wood. Having arrived there I was to take a certain road whence I should get excellent views over a large stretch of country.
We continued to advance. Our shoes squelched in the soft loam, and got covered with lumps of mud. We were splashed at each puddle. Our feet were soaked, our hands, pinched with cold, clutched convulsively at our rifles.
It was nearly forty minutes since we had left the clearing. From time to time a shot on our left reassured us; a sentry group was on the lookout there. I was still watching for the road which ought to turn off on our right. The forest just lately had given place to a bushy thicket. The sky was already paling, and in the clear transparency I saw the beginning of a bridle-path. What a relief! All we had to do now was to skirt the hostile zone, instead of continuing to penetrate into it, more terrified at each step.
The path climbed the side of the hill. We occasionally caught a glimpse of a misty expanse. Farther on, the view opened out, and we lay down flat on our faces, our elbows resting on the dewy grass of a hillock.
The sky tone was neutral. The chief features in the landscape were lent precision by the coming dawn. At our feet pearl-grey meadows sloped gently down to a highway bordered with trees, which might be followed northwards for miles, running in a straight line between two rounded hills. On the left there was a bizarre eminence, abrupt and bald; on the right two steeples, one of which rose at a short distance away behind a stretch of colourless heath. A mist hung about, dimming the surfaces and blurring the outlines. Another gloomy day in the making.
"See anything, Bouillon?"