We hastened to pass on the good news to the men. The day ended, on the whole, on a more favourable note. Our comrades had held out, and we had not been needed. Nothing to eat? We were accustomed to that ... the usual thing on evenings after a battle. Lamalou tasted some raw beetroot, pulled up in a neighbouring field. Everyone was convinced that we should sleep where we were. But we were to have a surprise. When it got dark, the order came to abandon the trench, and fall back on the high road.
That was a gloomy crossing. All the wounded were gathering on this side in the hope of getting first-aid. Many of them fell on the way, some dead, others exhausted, begging for a drink. There were sobs, and calls of "Mother!" We brushed past these unfortunates, strongly tempted to stop and help them, but we were forbidden to break ranks! There was growing indignation, for after all, where in thunder had our stretcher-bearers got to?
From the high road, we could see endless dots of light moving about and crossing each other in the dusk of the plain. The Bosches collecting their wounded, De Valpic informed me.
"There's organisation for you!" I said, not without bitterness.
"Their qualities against our qualities!"
THE WAR BEGINS