"Up you get, sir!" "What, what!"
Guillaumin was in front of me, smiling and swinging a lantern. Half-joking, he repeated: "I think we're in for it, sir!"
I got up. Shadows were moving round us. The sharp air stung. The night was clear but moonless. I asked what time it was. Three o'clock.
I immediately had a pleasant surprise. That form on the road—"Humel!" I dashed at him. "Hulloa, my boy! So you got through!"
"By jove! It was a bit of luck," he acknowledged.
I hungrily clamoured for details.
He explained: "You see, as long as we stayed in the trench, things went all right. We managed to hold the Bosches. They weren't particularly keen to face the bayonet. But at night we had no more ammunition. The men got unstrung and wanted to do a bunk. Delafosse opposed it—as you may imagine. Some of them began to slope off. The lieutenant made up his mind to it, and we followed them. But the Bosches got wind of it and opened fire at us. That's when we got cut up—not one out of four got away."
"The lieutenant?"
"Knocked out, disappeared."
[Pg 471]
Another name was on the tip of my tongue.
Humel understood, and lowered his voice! "Descroix? He stayed behind, too."
I, in my turn, told him of Henriot's death, and about Playoust. I saw his forehead wrinkle. He said nothing. I took his arm.
"Well, we're here!"
"Not for long," he murmured, downheartedly.
"Yes! Yes! I swear that you, you, you understand, will get through!"
What did I know of it? But I had said it with such assurance that I felt it had given him new heart.
There was a short whistle—the captain calling up the N.C. O's.
"Well, my friends," he said, "we have been complimented on our resistance the other night, and up till four o'clock yesterday in front of the Montrolle woods. Apparently we did not do badly!" He waited for a minute. "That is not all. We are asked, or I should say commanded, to intervene again. A great honour for the regiment!"
We were all hanging on his lips.
"Mind you remember this date," he said, "in case we come back. This is the night, the 9th to the 10th, that the battle is to be won. We are attacking all along the line, and I think I may be allowed to tell you, in confidence, that some of our comrades alongside have just entered Silly-le-Long. At the other extremity the Zouaves have taken Lizy-sur-Ourcq. The enemy is apparently still in possession of a little hill near here. What we've got to do is to oust them from it." His voice trembled. He must have been trying to find a last word of encouragement. Not succeeding, he added: "We start in five minutes!"
[Pg 472]
A remark not lacking in eloquence.
I joined De Valpic in the darkness. His cough had made me aware of his presence.
Guillaumin, who ran against us, said, in a joking tone: "Well, if we aren't polished off this time!" And then, a little more gravely: "If only it's of some use."
"Do you doubt it?"
"I? What do you think? I wouldn't change places. Those who have missed this——"
He rummaged in his pocket, pulled out a sou, and threw it into the air! "Heads we win!"
"And if it's the reverse?"
"A reverse for the Bosches!"
He hunted about in the dark.
"Can't you find it?"
"It never fell. It went straight up into the sky! The best sign of all."
We did not touch upon any more serious topics. We assembled, and started off. De Valpic left us to join his platoon.
"Good-bye."
We shook hands. We were never to see him again.
The most complete human friendship had drawn us together during the last fortnight.
We marched along a road in silence for half an hour. Then we extended into the fields, like mute armed phantoms, the noise of our footsteps absorbed by the ground.
For the first time I had taken my place at the head of my platoon. My eyes searched the darkness. I regulated our pace by the captain's, whose tall silhouette stood out against the blackness. I formed only one wish which was this: that our intervention[Pg 473] might have a decisive quality. A wish which resembled a prayer. I implored, I don't know what God, to grant me the good fortune to be a hero.
The ground was rising in a gentle slope. We were guided towards the east by a pale transparency, herald of the day. In that direction lay the enemy; the enemy whose sentries no doubt had orders to fire upon all suspicious objects. The first bullets would be for me. I did not think of them or fear them. The fifty men behind me, who would act as I acted, were a miraculous incentive.
There was a hollow exclamation close by on our left. A sentry! A shot rang out, followed by a second. I quickened the pace, my men remaining close at my heels.
In front of us, at a distance which was difficult to estimate, we could make out a noise and what seemed like confusion. On the left an already heavy fusillade was crackling. The absurd idea crossed my mind of giving orders for a volley. But the captain contented himself with raising his sword. Advance!
Our speed increased. Charging pace, fix bayonets! Some of the men were inclined to pass me. I restrained them below my breath.
There was a sudden volley of bullets, meant for us, but distinctly too high. We advanced bent double. There was a new rafale. This............