Swarming
humanity surrounds a hill of trusses of fodder. A scattered
multitude furiously attacks great strata of bales.
"That's three hours we've been on our pins," sighs Paradis.
"And those, there, what are they?" In some snatches of light we see
a group of goblins, surrounded by glowworms and carrying strange
instruments, come out and then disappear.
"That's the searchlight section," says Cocon.
"You've got your considering cap on, camarade; what's it about?"
"There are four Divisions, at present, in an Army Corps," replies
Cocon; "the number changes, sometimes it is three, sometimes five.
Just now, it's four. And each of our Divisions," continues the
mathematical one, whom our squad glories in owning, "includes three
R.I.--regiments of infantry; two B.C.P.--battalions of chasseurs
pied; one R.T.I.--regiment of territorial infantry--without counting
the special regiments, Artillery, Engineers, Transport, etc., and
not counting either Headquarters of the D.I. and the departments not
brigaded but attached directly to the D.I. A regiment of the line of
three battalions occupies four trains, one for H.Q., the machine-gun
company, and the C.H.R. (compagnie hors rang [note 2]), and one to
each battalion. All the troops won't entrain here. They'll entrain
in echelons along the line according to the position of the quarters
and the period of reliefs."
"I'm tired," says Tulacque. "We don't get enough solids to eat, mark
you.
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