Horror and stupefaction nailed us to the spot at first--"Where are
we? Oh, Christ, where are we?" Turning right about face, slowly in
spite of all, borne down anew by exhaustion and dismay, we took
flight, as overwhelmed by weariness as if we had many wounds, pulled
back by the mud towards the enemy country, and retaining only just
enough energy to repel the thought of the sweetness it would have
been to let ourselves die.
We came to a sort of great plain. We halted and threw ourselves on
the ground on the side of a mound, and leaned back upon it, unable
to make another step.
And we moved no more, my shadowy comrades nor I. The rain splashed
in our faces, streamed down our backs and chests, ran down from our
knees and filled our boots.
We should perhaps be killed or taken prisoners when day came. But we
thought no more of anything. We could do no more; we knew no more.
24
The Dawn
WE are waiting for daylight in the place where we sank to the
ground. Sinister and slow it comes, chilling and dismal, and expands
upon the livid landscape.
The rain has ceased to fall--there is none left in the sky. The
leaden plain and its mirrors of sullied water seem to issue not only
from the night but from the sea.
Drowsy or half asleep, sometimes opening our eyes only to close them
again, we attend the incredible renewal of light, paralyzed with
cold and broken with fatigue.
Where are the trenches?
We see lakes, and between the lakes there are lines of milky and
motionless water.
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