“My elbow must be smashed. I remember; it was the same bullet that arranged us both like this, my boy.”
He made an effort to sit up.
“But come,” he said with sudden gaiety, “we are not going to sleep here?”
You cannot believe how much this courageous display of joviality contributed towards giving me strength and hope. I felt quite different since we were two to struggle against death.
“Wait,” I exclaimed, “I will bandage up your arm with my handkerchief, and we will try and support one another as far as the nearest ambulance.”
“That’s it, my boy. Don’t make it too tight. Now, let us take each other by the good hand and try to get up.”
We rose staggering. We had lost a great deal of blood; our heads were swimming and our legs failed us. Any one would have mistaken us for drunkards, stumbling, supporting, pushing one another, and making zigzags to avoid the dead. The sun was setting with a rosy blush, and our gigantic shadows danced in a strange way over the field of battle. It was the end of a fine day.
The colonel joked; his lips were crisped by shudders, his laughter resembled sobs. I could see that we were going to fall down in some corner never to rise again. At times we were seized with giddiness, and were obliged to stop and close our eyes. The ambulances formed small grey patches on the dark ground at the extremity of the plain.
We knocked up against a large stone, and were thrown down one on the other. The colonel swore like a pagan. We tried to walk on all-fours, catching hold of the briars. In this way we did a hundred yards on our knees. But our knees were bleeding.
“I have had enough of it,” said the colonel, lying down; “they may come and fetch me if they will. Let us sleep.”