"I believe one company of the battalion is to carry out some operation. But it's not our turn. Besides, I'm going to remain at headquarters. You can carry out the relief without me. I shall come down with the orders a quarter of an hour afterwards."
Blanc-Sablon was indeed a lugubrious spot. On one wall of a ravine rose its shell-riven dwarf forest, with wooded horns and great caves of shadow, while away in front a road, barricaded with tree-trunks, stretched to the village, a few hundred yards off, occupied by the enemy.
The men, hitherto silent, could no longer restrain a hasty comment.
"Good Lord! What a show! Here's a pretty place for you! We always strike a hole like this!"
"Silence!"
In some respects taking over is not unlike the figure of a cotillon. The Company-Commander, each section officer, corporal and man must immediately seek out his opposite number, the company-commander, section officer, corporal or man whose place he has to take.
It was all over in five minutes, soundlessly, of course, or hostile artillery would soon have had this human mass, half of it without cover of any kind, under fire and reduced to pulp.
Silence, comparatively easy to obtain from the incoming party, was nothing like so easy to exact from the departing host. The pleasant prospects of approaching sleep under cover and a few days' "rest" behind the lines loosened their tongues. They could not resist a few words of advice to their successors:
"I'd advise you to keep clear of that loophole. There's a gent over there who doesn't love me. I have had three pots at him today. If he isn't dead he will be wanting his turn. And then ..."
—"SILENCE!"