"It is the officer of the 24th sent to get into touch with you. Anything new on your side?" 

 "No, sir, unless it's the scrap we've just had with a German patrol. It was the shots you heard just now. We've killed one." 

 A corpse was lying in the grass. I bent over it. On the shoulder strap was the number "182." 

 "What about his papers!" 

 "The Captain has them." 

 "Our small post is two hundred yards away, there, in the coppice.... Oh, yes! At two o'clock a patrol will come round. Don't forget it!" 

 "Very good, sir." 

 "Good night." 

 When I got back Vignerte was in my dug-out. He was smoking a cigarette. 

 "Anything fresh?" I asked him. 

 "Nothing," he replied, "at any rate for tonight. But of course the 22nd may get a knock. In front of them is a horn of the wood where we have reason to think that the Boche is working on a sap. The 22nd are to inspect and, if possible, upset their game. One section goes over at 6 A.M., the rest follow to support it. As soon as the explosions are heard the 23rd are to fire at the trenches opposite to hold down their occupants, but we ourselves are not to move unless things go wrong. In any case the 23rd attack before us. So we can count on a quiet night. Have you anything fresh?" 

 "The company has taken over all right," I said. "They're so uncomfortable, in fact, that I don't think we need worry about them. Many of them can't help keeping awake. I have got into touch with our neighbours; their is nothing to report in that quarter except that they've had a scrap with a German patrol. They've knocked out one." 

 "Really," said Vignerte. "Infantry or Jäger?" 

 "Infantry. 182nd Regiment of Prussian Infantry." 

 "I should like to know," said my friend, "where those folk opposite come from." 

 So saying he drew out his pocket Lavanzelle. 

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