Wooden Crosses

Ricordeau, who had been sitting at the entrance to the dug-out, rushed out, and without paying any heed to the bullets whining about him he leaped on a pile of sandbags and looked out over the parapet: it was the attack. Little flaky bombs were bursting in the fields, and already shells were arriving, exploding in thick clouds. Going to earth under the salvoes, then starting off again, our men were charging. Dispersed, scattered, like crumbs, they were so tiny that they appeared lost in that immense plain.