"What! What!" he said, opening his eyes.
"To send word to the captain."
He raised himself up to listen to us, and approved our suggestions.
It was like a moving film!... That dark silent line, that line of assailants at which we turned to look continually, which we imagined was still a long way off. The speed was suddenly quickened. There was a sound of galloping—which seemed quite near. I strained my eyes, my lips opened with a jerk. I took a step forward....
Henriot blew his whistle.
I can still hear the rip of that imperious salvo. A volley of shrieks answered it from the plain, and dispelled my shudders.
And the salvo grew more violent and rolled along the whole line of trenches. We saw nothing further: simply went on firing, sweeping the ground in front of us. I shouldered my rifle and discharged it distractedly, just as mad as the others. The crash and uproar rose and swelled and threatened.
It did not last more than a minute. The attack was badly carried out, or, at all events, sustained. It was an entire failure. Our firing persisted. Cries could still be heard, but of pain now, and also the interjections of officers rallying their men. There were smothered moans and death-rattles. Our firing still continued. When it ceased nothing was moving on the plain and only an occasional guttural groan could be heard. When the dawn came we saw the stubble-fields strewn with bodies, some of them less than thirty yards away. They had fallen face foremost. The rest had been hit in flight. It was impossible to go and pick up even the dying. They must stay there all day, ghastly witnesses of the encounter.
It was broad daylight now.