order in the ditch of the road that passed in front of our farm,
parallel with the skirts of the wood. Our squadrons thus formed a line
of from 300 to 400 yards, capable of holding the enemy in check for
some time, if they had succeeded in taking our trenches and were
already pushing through the thicket. Kneeling on the road behind them,
I looked at my men. They were lying flat on the ground on the slope of
the ditch; they had loaded their rifles, and I could not distinguish
the slightest trace of fear or even of emotion in any one of them.

They were all looking straight before them trying to see whether some
helmeted soldier were emerging from the bushes in the gathering
shadow. What splendid soldiers the war has fashioned for us! They are
no longer merely the diligent and conscientious cavalrymen we took
pleasure in commanding, and whose smartness we admired in peace time.
The stern experience of the battlefield has hardened, strengthened and
ennobled them. Their faces are manlier; their discipline, far from
relaxing, has become more thorough; their courage has developed, and,
in most of them, now verges on temerity.

I have had two new men in my troop for a short time: Ladoucette and
Roger. They are Territorials, men of from thirty-eight to forty, who,
wearying of the depôt and envying their juniors in the field, asked
and obtained leave to rejoin the regiment at the Front. They
fascinated me at once by their high spirits, their jovial chaff, and
the cheerfulness with which they undertook the most laborious tasks.
But I had not yet seen them under fire.

I looked about for them in the line of skirmishers. I tried to
distinguish them among all the backs and necks lying before me. And I
very soon guessed that they were at the extreme right of the troop,