"Well, then," Pierre went on, his voice deepening and his face
growing more tense, "then we were sent to Verdun. That was the
hottest place of all. It was at the top of the big German drive.
The whole sea rushed and fell on us--big guns, little guns, poison-gas,
hand-grenades, liquid fire, bayonets, knives, and trench-clubs.
Fort after fort went down. The whole pack of hell was loose and
raging. I thought of that crazy, chinless Crown Prince sitting in
his safe little cottage hidden in the woods somewhere--they say he
had flowers and vines planted around it--drinking stolen champagne
and sicking on his dogs of death. He was in no danger. I cursed
him in my heart, that blood-lord! The shells rained on Verdun. The
houses were riddled; the cathedral was pierced in a dozen places;
a hundred fires broke out. The old citadel held good. The outer forts
to the north and east were taken. Only the last ring was left. We
common soldiers did not know much about what was happening. The big
battle was beyond our horizon. But that General Petain, he knew it
all. Ah, that is a wise man, I can tell you! He sent us to this
place or that place where the defense was most needed. We went
gladly, without fear or holding back. We were resolute that those
mad dogs should not get through. _'They shall not pass'!_ And
they did not pass!"

"Glorious!" cried the priest, drinking the story in. "And you,
Pierre? Where were you, what were you doing?"

"I was at Douaumont, that fort on the highest hill of all. The
Germans took it. It cost them ten thousand men. The ground around
it was like a wood-yard piled with logs. The big shell-holes were
full of corpses. There were a few of us that got away. Then our