We marched along a road in silence for half an hour. Then we extended into the fields, like mute armed phantoms, the noise of our footsteps absorbed by the ground.
For the first time I had taken my place at the head of my platoon. My eyes searched the darkness. I regulated our pace by the captain's, whose tall silhouette stood out against the blackness. I formed only one wish which was this: that our intervention might have a decisive quality. A wish which resembled a prayer. I implored, I don't know what God, to grant me the good fortune to be a hero.
The ground was rising in a gentle slope. We were guided towards the east by a pale transparency, herald of the day. In that direction lay the enemy; the enemy whose sentries no doubt had orders to fire upon all suspicious objects. The first bullets would be for me. I did not think of them or fear them. The fifty men behind me, who would act as I acted, were a miraculous incentive.
There was a hollow exclamation close by on our left. A sentry! A shot rang out, followed by a second. I quickened the pace, my men remaining close at my heels.
In front of us, at a distance which was difficult to estimate, we could make out a noise and what seemed like confusion. On the left an already heavy fusillade was crackling. The absurd idea crossed my mind of giving orders for a volley. But the captain contented himself with raising his sword. Advance!
Our speed increased. Charging pace, fix bayonets! Some of the men were inclined to pass me. I restrained them below my breath.
There was a sudden volley of bullets, meant for us, but distinctly too high. We advanced bent double. There was a new rafale. This I felt was bearing to the right, where De Valpic's platoon was. A mysterious shock warned me that at that second my friend—my friend had succumbed.... Mown down, this fine life. But this destiny held no terror for him. And what other awaited us!
The balls continued to mew fiercely in our ears like terrible cats. It felt like the blows of wooden hammers which would pound and crush everything to dust—("would bash our heads in"; the popular expression just fitted it).
I was thinking of that when I became aware of a sort of fluctuation behind me. Somebody shouted: "Kneel!"