"As many as all that?"
"Yes. I've been using my field-glasses. And they advance shoulder to shoulder, looking as if they meant to swamp everything."
"Oh, well, we're here!" I said. But I glanced at our sparsely covered line. Had we reserves anywhere! It was to be hoped so, but until further orders, we had only ourselves to count on.
The enemy was gaining ground. However, discipline had soon been established among us. Each time the hostile mass moved, we "loosed off a belt." Everyone was cool and collected, no more panic like there had been at Mangiennes. Each poilu was determined to get the most out of the good Lebel in his hands.
I went up and down, warning them not to waste ammunition. I watched Corporal Donnadieu for a few minutes. How would he manage with his mutilated hand? Well, he used nothing but his left hand to rest his rifle on. It grazed one of the stumps and forced him to stifle an exclamation of pain. He did not lose a single second in firing and recharging in spite of his puckered forehead and clenched teeth.
"Good for you, old chap," I said.
He did not answer, but his eyelashes fluttered.
Our trench lacked depth, the firing-steps were missing—a grave cause of fatigue. I reproached myself bitterly for our slackness the day before. If only we had taken the trouble to dig a little bit deeper, to fetch wood, and arrange loopholes.
The Bosches manœuvred skilfully. Some of them crouched down and facilitated their comrades' advance by firing. Then they took their turn at advancing while the others protected them.
There was nothing for us to do but to fire. Fire without ceasing for an instant, even under a hail of bullets. The men had realised this sanguinary obligation. There was no need for leadership. It was splendid to see them, taking aim without hurrying themselves over it, under the deadly torrent. The casualties began immediately. Trichet was the first to fall with a hole through his neck. A machine-gun of theirs had just begun to talk, and things were looking black in other ways. The shells which, for a long time, had been negligible, now began to find the range in the most alarming manner. The ground shook. Three men in No. 2 platoon had their heads taken off at a blow.