Another hour went by. I vaguely wished I could take some interest in the struggle. If only I had had a periscope or some field-glasses. I was too slack to go and borrow Henriot's. For a moment I experienced a kind of humiliation—was this all that would be required of us? Should we share in the glory of this victory without having earned it?—No one, up till then, doubted that it would be a victory—and leave the honour of the decisive attacks to those African devils? And then I must admit that this thought suddenly pleased me. I should get off easily and my friends too. Everything seemed to be turning out for the best. And De Valpic? Oh, he would recover.
Then, lulled by the deafening tumult of the cannonade, with my eyes half closed, I indulged in visions of a tender face. I wandered, enchanted, in the golden mists of the future....
HOLDING OUT
I was aroused from these day-dreams by a hullabaloo. The men were on their feet shouting: "Here they come! Here they come!"
I tried to impose silence on them: so much waste breath. And I was infuriated by hearing shots being fired without any orders having been given.
I leaned on the parapet, but could see nothing. I shouted: "What in thunder are you shooting at?"
At that moment the well-known screeches lashed the air. I flung myself down. German bullets!