Through the night and a rain increasing in violence I lead a cortège of mute shades. Alas! we do not get far. For in the village I encounter my commander, striding up and down before the houses, making himself quite ill from anxiety.
"About turn! Quick march!"
The shades return to the marsh, still mute. I listen to the slush-slush of their heavy boots as they tramp through the puddles. Poor devils!
Returning I meet a few soldiers moving towards the cemetery with its congregation of tombs clustering round the little church. They are carrying a body wrapped in a flag on a stretcher. Then I recollect someone mentioned that a cavalryman had been killed earlier in the day by a stray bullet.
Sleeping quarters I found to consist of a shabby garret. Sleep was fitful at the best. All through the night the door slammed. Every time I opened my eyes, I saw by the dim rays of a smoky lamp other eyes hidden in the shadow of caps. On one side of me, in an alcove similar to mine, a sick man, tortured by a sharp attack of rheumatism, kept constantly moaning and crying.
Dawn at last! I dress myself hastily, only too thankful to escape the oppressive atmosphere of this hovel. I long to breathe the fresh air, to open my lungs, to escape as far as possible from that bed, from those greasy bedclothes which have communicated their dampness to my skin, from the musty smell of cheese, skim milk and pig's-wash….
It is still raining. In the distant meadow I can see stacked rifles and sodden knapsacks; but not a man is afoot. So much the worse…. Bravo!
Thursday, August 27th.
Another long march, protracted and dawdling. Indeed it could not justly be described as a march at all; rather was it the wandering of men who had lost their way. Haucourt, then Malancourt, then Béthincourt. The road is a mere river of mud. At each step a jet of yellow water spurts upwards. Heavier and heavier becomes my great coat. It is useless for me to bury my neck between my shoulders: large drops of cold rain contrive to work themselves inside my collar and trickle down my back. My knapsack bumps to and fro against my hips. Whenever a halt is called, I remain standing, not daring even to raise an arm lest the penalty be still more water down my back.
We find that we have arrived at Gercourt, which proves to be our immediate destination. A splash of blue breaks through the rain clouds. Our uniforms begin to recover their original colours, brass buttons to gleam.