Endless, these fields … apparently we are never going to arrive at our destination. Only the leader of the detachment knows where that is, and apparently he has gone and lost himself somewhere. We wander at large. The ranks break up; we march in groups, in a herd, a herd of most miserable animals. To the right: to the left: straight ahead. Our legs move onwards from sheer habit. We are out of the cultivated fields now and passing over land covered with broom, stunted pines, and brambles which merge finally into dense woods. For a long time we follow their edge, a curiously capricious edge. It brings us to the side of a road. We halt there; that is our destination.
The men, already half asleep, positively fall down. In a moment their numbed, overwearied bodies are at rest.
Scattered dark masses: a deep silence broken occasionally by loud snores.
VII
THE ARMIES GO TO EARTH
Friday, September 25th.
Where are we? Mouilly should be over there to the right opposite the woods. I find that we have passed the last hours of the night on a plateau stretching far away behind us, sterile, and half swallowed by the forest. Before us, on the other side of the road, there are a few fields, a dip, then more forest. Towards the west is Mouilly, Rupt, the valley of the Meuse, all calm with that peace which reigns far away from the enemy. Towards the east, beyond the wood, is the last of the "Heights of the Meuse," the final barrier before the plain which they command; then the marshy Woëvre, Fresnes, Marcheville, Sceaux, Champlon. Away over there somewhere are the Germans forming a human carpet at the foot of the hills, waiting a favourable moment to rush down again to the attack. They have gone south too, and captured Hattenchatel, Saint Maurice; their line runs right through the undergrowth between the old forest trees. They hold Saint Remy, Vaux-les-Palameix. Yesterday they advanced almost to the road from Saint Remy to Mouilly. Where are they this morning? And what is to be our rôle? We have not been told a word.
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? We are ordered: "Go there." We go there. We are commanded: "Attack." We attack. At least during the battle, we know we are fighting; we know what our immediate mission is, and knowing it, accomplish it with a better heart. But before? And afterwards? Often it is only the sound of firing close at hand or an avalanche of shells which heralds the fray.
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