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Updated: May 3, 2025
Wattrelot was already some way off, and I still shied at this act, which, after all, was inevitable: to get out of bed in a little ice-cold room at two o'clock in the morning. Through the window, which had neither shutter nor curtain, I saw a small piece of the sky, beautifully clear, in which myriads of stars were twinkling. The day before, when I came in to go to bed, it was freezing hard.
Like a coward, I kept on allowing myself successive respites, vowing to rise heroically after each. "I will get up as soon as Wattrelot has reached the landing of the first floor.... I will get up when I hear him walking on the pavement of the hall, ... or rather when I hear the entrance-door shut, and his boots creaking on the gravel path...." But every noise was hushed.
I went first in the direction my friend had vaguely indicated the night before. Wattrelot followed, leading my spare horse. The horses' footsteps resounded strangely in this unknown country where nothing else could be heard. Were we really at war? Everything seemed, on the contrary, to breathe perfect tranquillity. What a change from the feverish bustle of the station the evening before!
Go on foot behind that wood, and get quietly under cover with Lemaître. I will soon come and join you." And I went off with Vercherin, Finet, and Wattrelot. I tried to get round to the right of Courgivault. But now that the first shots had been fired we were not allowed to come nearer.
After wishing him good luck, I left him to get back to my hut, for, in spite of my cloak, the frost was taking hold of me too. The faithful Wattrelot had done his best to keep our little stove going. Profiting by La G.'s example, I stretched myself on two chairs, with my feet towards the fire. I gradually got warmer, and at the same time somewhat melancholy. What a curious Christmas Eve!
I then rode slowly to the corner of the wood, where Madelaine and Lemaître were posted, whilst Wattrelot went off at a trot across the stubble. But a sad sight was awaiting me. Lemaître was standing in great grief over poor "Ramier," lying inert on the ground and struggling feebly with death. His eyes were already dull and his legs convulsed. Every now and then he shuddered violently.
"Wattrelot, my friend, we shall see plenty more. You know, they were brave fellows who have been killed doing their duty. We must not pity them...." Wattrelot did not answer. I galloped off again towards the big rick by which stood General T.'s Staff. I had already forgotten what I had seen, and my attention was fixed upon that small group of men standing motionless near the top of the ridge.
I turned to look at him, and found his face a bit pale; but directly he saw me glance at his blue north-country eyes, his face lit up with a broad smile. "Here we are, sir." "Yes, Wattrelot, here we are. I'm sure you don't know what fear is!" "Oh! no, sir." "That's all right. Forward then! To the guns!" We passed through a hamlet full of waggons and motors.
With his eyes on the ground he seemed to be counting his steps. And meanwhile, the two batteries went on firing salvoes of four at a time. When one was finished there was a pause of two or three minutes. Then the other battery took it up. But Wattrelot interrupted my reverie: "Look over there, sir.... Ça barde!" I looked in the direction he was pointing out.
Whilst I knelt on one knee and on the other wrote my report for the Colonel, Vercherin and Finet, at an interval of 100 yards, kept a good look-out on the ridge for the enemy's movements. I handed my message to Wattrelot: "Take this to the Colonel, and quickly. I will wait here for the brigade."
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