I was aroused from these day-dreams by a hullabaloo. The men were on their feet shouting: "Here they come! Here they come!"
I tried to impose silence on them: so much waste breath. And I was infuriated by hearing shots being fired without any orders having been given.
I leaned on the parapet, but could see nothing. I shouted: "What in thunder are you shooting at?"
At that moment the well-known screeches lashed the air. I flung myself down. German bullets!
Bouillon said, below his breath: "The blighters! Their trenches weren't far off."
When their volley was over we looked for them. They must have lain down. I consulted Lamalou: "A thousand yards, do you think?"
"Eight hundred, not more."
I gave the men orders to correct their sight. They had all been firing at four hundred in their surprise.
A rumour spread that they were coming.
"Fire! Fire!"
This time we could see them. Quite a change! Nearly everywhere, at Tailly, Halles, and Beauclair we had had to fire at random. How often I had cursed their invisible uniforms! Here, again, this grey line melted into the ground tint.
[Pg 454]
Never mind. Our men fired rapidly and coolly. The others threw themselves down again and their projectiles forced us to crouch down in our turn.
"There are an awful lot of them, the dirty dogs!" Henriot said to me.
"As many as all that?"
"Yes. I've been using my field-glasses. And they advance shoulder to shoulder, looking as if they meant to swamp everything."
"Oh, well, we're here!" I said. But I glanced at our sparsely covered line. Had we reserves anywhere! It was to be hoped so, but until further orders, we had only ourselves to count on.
The enemy was gaining ground. However, discipline had soon been established among us. Each time the hostile mass moved, we "loosed off a belt." Everyone was cool and collected, no more panic like there had been at Mangiennes. Each poilu was determined to get the most out of the good Lebel in his hands.
I went up and down, warning them not to waste ammunition. I watched Corporal Donnadieu for a few minutes. How would he manage with his mutilated hand? Well, he used nothing but his left hand to rest his rifle on. It grazed one of the stumps and forced him to stifle an exclamation of pain. He did not lose a single second in firing and recharging in spite of his puckered forehead and clenched teeth.
"Good for you, old chap," I said.
He did not answer, but his eyelashes fluttered.
Our trench lacked depth, the firing-steps were missing—a grave cause of fatigue. I reproached myself bitterly for our slackness the day before. If only[Pg 455] we had taken the trouble to dig a little bit deeper, to fetch wood, and arrange loopholes.
The Bosches man?uvred skilfully. Some of them crouched down and facilitated their comrades' advance by firing. Then they took their turn at advancing while the others protected them.
There was nothing for us to do but to fire. Fire without ceasing for an instant, even under a hail of bullets. The men had realised this sanguinary obligation. There was no need for leadership. It was splendid to see them, taking aim without hurrying themselves over it, under the deadly torrent. The casualties began immediately. Trichet was the first to fall with a hole through his neck. A machine-gun of theirs had just begun to talk, and things were looking black in other ways. The shells which, for a long time, had been negligible, now began to find the range in the most alarming manner. The ground shook. Three men in No. 2 platoon had their heads taken off at a blow.
The enemy was drawing nearer, and was not more than about four hundred yards away now. I confess I was extremely miserable. Another quarter of an hour and they would be within charging distance. We should have to meet this human avalanche and we should not be one to their five.
I almost formed the cowardly wish that we might retire without waiting any longer. How agonising it was. We should certainly never be strong enough to withstand them. A wave of irritation rose in me against our artillery which was incapable of intervening at the right moment, having been completely annihilated by the heavy German batteries, and also against the superior military authorities who gave us[Pg 456] no support. And I was paralysed by a sudden fear. We were using a lot of cartridges. Suppose our supplies were to give out! Playoust would be sure to be stopping ever so far behind with his waggons. What a ridiculous idea it had been to entrust him with that work.
The sight that gave me new strength just as I was feeling inclined to give way, and on the point of being false to all that I was and wished to be, was the attitude of the men. I can see them now taking aim and recharging, with their manly, straightforward, earnest f............