Suddenly a heavy explosion--a great trembling and a large spout of
earth rises in the air a hundred yards from us----
"There it is--a boche _camouflet_!"[20]
At the same moment the well-known serenade--from all sides comes a rain
of projectiles: minnenwerfer, shells and bullets. A man, wounded, cries
like an infant with its throat cut----
Expecting an attack, I shout to my _poilus_:
"_Attention!_ keep your eyes open!"
Corporal Poulet replied with an inexplicable accent:
"That's all right; as long as your eyeglass is not broken, everything
will go well!"
A POILU WEEPS, CALONNE TRENCH.
_December_, 1915.
A beautiful day--but how cold it is!
From the German lines as well as our own, white smoke curls up from
wood fires.
The hour at which the sector becomes active has not arrived, and I have
plenty of time to make the rounds of the first line to keep warm.
Poor little hill! It is barren!
It has been well named: "the lobster's claw." Certainly it has the
form and color. The trees are cracked or shattered clear to the roots,
because tons of projectiles have fallen on it.
The view from this dominating position is really exquisite!
In front of me are the heights of the Meuse, to the left is Longeau
valley, with the village of Eparges in the bottom and the hills of
Montgirmont, Eparges and Hûres which rise on the other side.
The hills this morning assume the unforeseen aspect of Mediterranean
imagery, red and blue, a land of silence, as if one would find Samos
and Ephesus close by.
I arrive at a machine-gunner's post--the man is alone, his comrade must
be only a few steps away from him. He is crying!
He was seated on the ground, his chin in his knees. Unshaven, unkempt,
he had such a pitiable face that I sat down at his side----
He was visibly embarrassed and annoyed at having been taken by surprise
with his eyes full of tears.
"Good morning, _mon vieux_!"
"Good morning, lieutenant----"
"How damned cold it is this morning."
"Oh! yes----"
"What's the matter? Is there anything wrong?"
"Nothing, I assure you----"
"You can talk to me like a brother." He did not reply.
"I'm hungry! It won't bother you if I have something to eat
here--sardines, a box of _singe_ and some _pinard_--you'll have a
portion?"
At the end of a few moments we were the best friends in the world. I
knew his name, where he was from and what he had done in the campaign.
"Why were you crying a moment ago when I came up on you? You are not a
man to be afraid in the Calonne Trench, because you are brave--I can
read it in your eyes----"
"I'm going to tell you. I went back for my first vacation. I had not
told my wife because I wanted to surprise her and the youngster----
"When I arrived at home, that night, the miserable----"
"Stop, _mon petit_, I understand. What did you do?"
"I thought at first to kill both of them. But I simply turned away from
the door--and--I came back to rejoin my comrades----"
THE THREE JURORS' CROSSROADS, CALONNE TRENCH.
_January_, 1916.