_November 20._

From the window near which I write I see the rising sun. It shines upon
the hoar-frost, and gradually I discover the beautiful country which is
undergoing such horrors. It appears that there were many victims in the
bayonet charge which I heard yesterday. Among others, we are without
tidings of two sections of the regiment which formed part of our
brigade. While these others were working out their destiny, I was on the
crest of the most beautiful hill (I was very much exposed also at other
times). I saw the daybreak; I was full of emotion in beholding the peace
of Nature, and I realised the contrast between the pettiness of human
violence and the majesty of the surroundings.

That time of pain for you, from September 9th to October 13th,
corresponds exactly with my first phase of war. On September 9th I
arrived, and detrained almost within reach of the terrible battle of the
Marne, which was in progress 35 kilometres away. On the 12th I rejoined
the 106th, and thenceforward led the life of a combatant. On October
13th, as I told you, we left the lovely woods, where the enemy artillery
and infantry had done a lot of mischief among us, especially on the 3rd.
Our little community lost on that day a heart of gold, a wonderful boy,
grown too good to live. On the 4th, an excellent comrade, an
architectural student, was wounded fairly severely in the arm, but the
news which he has since sent of himself is good. Then until the 13th,
terrible day, we lived through some hard times, especially as the
danger, real enough, was exaggerated by the feeling of suffocation and
of the unknown which hemmed us round in those woods, so fine at any
other time.