He points in the direction of R.
"There they are, still fighting, Captain."
Yes, there still stand some riflemen in a rifle fight. An officer with them.
"Forward!" and I point in their direction.
But over there the witches' caldron is boiling more fiercely. The machine guns are nearer there. After a short consultation with the leader of the division I order: "Retire. Singly."
The narrow road through which we retire is swept continually with fire. I climb up to the ridge. Now nothing further matters. Only not to fall alive in the hands of those over there! To die! I stumble over a ridge in the field. A few moments of unconsciousness. Then again the tacktack-tacktack of the machine guns. God, our Lord, Thou art our refuge forever and aye! I pray Thee, I pray Thee, let me die an honest soldier's death. And not suffer long. Now, dear Lord, please; now! If only my fellows don't begin to run!
"Slowly, men; slowly. Halt at the brown stretch of field."
Panting, we lie there. "Rifles in position! Take aim! Fire!"
As soon as a few shots have been fired, there ensues a pause in the firing over there. We make good use of it. Then, "Down on your bellies again!"
I cannot go further.