Biquet tells the story of a
rat he has seen: "He was cheeky and comical, you know. I'd taken off
my trotter-cases, and that rat, he chewed all the edge of the uppers
into embroidery. Of course, I'd greased 'em."
Volpatte, who is now definitely out of action, moves and says, "I
can't get to sleep for your gabbling."
"You can't make me believe, old fraud," says Marthereau, "that you
can raise a single snore with a shindy like this all round you."
Volpatte replies with one.
* * * * * *
Fall in! March!
We are changing our spot. Where are they taking us to? We have no
idea. The most we know is that we are in reserve, and that they may
take us round to strengthen certain points in succession, or to
clear the communication trenches, in which the regulation of passing
troops is as complicated a job, if blocks and collisions are to be
avoided, as it is of the trains in a busy station. It is impossible
to make out the meaning of the immense maneuver in which the rolling
of our regiment is only that of a little wheel, nor what is going on
in all the huge area of the sector. But, lost in the network of
deeps where we go and come without end, weary, harassed and
stiff-jointed by prolonged halts, stupefied by noise and delay,
poisoned by smoke, we make out that our artillery is becoming more
and more active; the offensive seems to have changed places.
* * * * * *
Halt! A fire of intense and incredible fury was threshing the
parapets of the trench where we were halted at the moment: "Fritz is
going it strong; he's afraid of an attack, he's going dotty.
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