Henriot ground his teeth, and muttered:
"No, no, not that."
"You'll soon see!" said the other.
He saluted, and went on his way limping.
Other accounts were in a different key. There was often a question of a defensive taken by us. We advanced, and lay down and fired. Everything was going well, but then suddenly the hostile machine guns were unmasked. Ran, ran, ran, ran. The famous crackle went on and on, mowing our lines down like corn. No use being plucky! What could we do? (That was the everlasting refrain.) Escape! Never to return again.
Some badly wounded men appeared supported by three or four comrades who made use of the excuse to escape. There were very few orderlies and stretcher-bearers. One heard nothing but complaints, for the most part unjust, of the army medical corps. Guillaumin undertook to see a Zouave, who had just come a cropper, to the neighbouring dressing station. He came back disgusted. A major had grossly insulted him:
"Oh, go to the devil! Your pal's done for!"
A certain number, who were dragging themselves along in a sorry state, found the strength to exhort us, with a melodramatic gesture, to avenge them.
Others pitied us: