"Well, Le Mée, here's to your health and let's hope that in a few months we shall have another drink together!"
"Here's luck to us both!"
Grasping our swords we ran back to the barracks. That night we once again slept in our beds.
Sunday, August 2
My kit was ready. I had rolled up some handkerchiefs in my cloak.
A sergeant came in:
"Now then, all of you go to the office!"
The sergeant began distributing the record books and identity discs.
On one side of mine was inscribed: "Paul Lintier," and, underneath, "E.V. (engagé volontaire) Cl. 1913"; on the other: "Mayenne 1179."
A fly was buzzing about in the office. For one moment there rose up before me a vision of a battlefield—with dead men lying stretched out on the edge of a pit, and a non-commissioned officer hastily identifying them before burial.