We rejoined our batteries at the water-tanks. A ceaseless tide of men brushed by our carriages, their shadowy figures rising and falling as they passed in the darkness.
"What regiment is that?" I asked. No one answered.
"What regiment is that?"
Apparently a regiment of dumb men. They continued to march by in the gloom without giving any reply.
"What regiment is that passing? Can't you speak French?"
"Hundred and third."
"Where are you going to?"
"We don't know."
"Where are you going to?" I repeated.