We heard that d'Amade had made a flank attack on the opposing German army, and had taken Marville.
D'Amade! Well done, d'Amade! But ... was it true?
At Halles, a mile and a half from Beauclair, we encamped at the foot of some high hills. The guns, which for some time past had been silent, again began to thunder. The enemy was bombarding the heights above us.
As billets for the night we had been given a spacious barn. But when at dusk we went there to get some sleep we found our straw covered with foot-soldiers, rifles, and packs.
The artillerymen began swearing:
"Hallo, what the hell's all this? No more room left?"
There was a scrimmage to let us find places.
The barn had a loft above it to which a ladder gave access, and the floor of which was worm-eaten. We stuffed up the holes with hay.
"There we are! As usual, the artillery above, and the infantry below. That's all right.... But mind you don't take the ladder away!"