An old territorial flashes a lantern in my face--a railroad track
crossed the road----
"What is the name of this place, _mon petit_?"
"This place, captain, is--the railroad crossing!"
THE EVE OF THE RECAPTURE OF FORT DOUAUMONT.
_October_ 23, 1916.
Major Armengaud and I left Nettancourt this morning by airplane to
assist in the operations about to be unloosed before Verdun.
The weather is uncertain and some large running clouds are above us.
Before landing at Lemme, it had been decided that we would make a short
incursion over the lines----
Here is the Meuse! The two banks of the battlefield appear to me
yellowish gray with the Douaumont Hill tinted red.
The cannonade is raging--I see the vivid flashes of shells leaving the
guns and I hear loud detonations above the noise of the motor----
[Illustration: Entrance of Fort Douaumont in July 1915 and April 1917.]
The weather is very nasty! Always it is the same thing. It will surely
rain to-night!
We flew above St. Michel Hill at the moment when our 400 shell fell on
Douaumont and on Vaux, throwing up columns of earth and smoke.
From Fort Douaumont rise big voluted shafts of smoke. Fortunately our
artillerymen had found the joint in the armor----
Not a boche _avion_ in the air. What matter! This spectacle is so
thrilling, that, for the moment, my machine-gun gets very little use----
The _poilus_ themselves must be there in the trenches, waiting the hour
of attack. I cannot see them, but my heart and thoughts go out to them.
I had the impression from that very moment the recapture of Fort
Douaumont was certain----