"We regret," he said seriously, "that at the moment there is no
aeroplane in sight. We will, however, show Madame everything."
He led the way round the corner of the building to where a path,
neatly banked, went out through the mud to the battery.
"Keep to the path," said a tall sign. But there was no temptation to
do otherwise. There must have been fifty acres to that field, unbroken
by hedge or tree. As we walked out, Captain Mignot paused and pointed
his finger up and somewhat to the right.
"German shrapnel!" he said. True enough, little spherical clouds told
where it had burst harmlessly.
As cannonading had been going on steadily all the afternoon, no one
paid any particular attention. We walked on in the general direction
of the trenches.
The gunners were playing prisoner's base just beyond the guns. When
they saw us coming the game ceased, and they hurried to their
stations. Boys they were, most of them. The youth of the French troops
had not impressed me so forcibly as had the boyishness of the English
and the Belgians. They are not so young, on an average, I believe. But
also the deception of maturity is caused by a general indifference to
shaving while in the field.
But Captain Mignot evidently had his own ideas of military smartness,
and these lads were all clean-shaven.
Pages:
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237