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Barbusse, Henri, 1873-1935

"Under Fire: the story of a squad"

Ammunition wagons, guns
and wheels were streaked and blotched with yellow, brown, and green.
"They're camoufles. [note 1] Down there, there are even
horses painted. Look! spot that one, there, with the big feet as if
he had trousers on. Well, he was white, and they've slapped some
paint on to change his color."
The horse in question was standing apart from the others, which
seemed to mistrust it, and displayed a grayish yellow tone,
obviously with intent to deceive. "Poor devil!" said Tulacque.
"You see," said Paradis, "we not only take 'em to get killed, but
mess them about first!"
"It's for their good, any way!"
"Eh oui, and us too, it's for our good!"
Towards evening soldiers arrived. From all sides they flowed towards
the station. Deep-voiced non-coms. ran in front of the files. They
were stemming the tide of men and massing them along the barriers or
in railed squares--pretty well everywhere. The men piled their arms,
dropped their knapsacks, and not being free to go out, waited,
buried side by side in shadow.
The arrivals followed each other in volume that grew as the twilight
deepened. Along with the troops, the motors flowed up, and soon
there was an unbroken roar. Limousines glided through an enormous
sea of lorries, little, middling, and big. All these cleared aside,
wedged themselves in, subsided in their appointed places. A vast hum
of voices and mingled noises arose from the ocean of men and
vehicles that beat upon the approaches to the station and began in
places to filter through.


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