I go into the meager room, feebly lighted by a smoking lamp. What luck! The warmth is soothing and I can dry myself----
"I do," replied the head of the _dépôt_, a young sub-lieutenant.
[Illustration: Colonel Geney awarding "Croix de guerre" to blue devils of Captain Gunther, on the battlefield.]
We are absorbed in the game--and, with the log fire to keep us warm, I forget everything: the war, hardships, and at the same time, I must confess, all that I love----
THE PRACTICAL POILU, EPARGES. _January_, 1916.
This episode took place at l'Eperon-des-Mitrailleuses, which is balder than the head of our friend Mollinié. Tons of explosives in the last few months, have been dropped on this little sector, and the pretty wood which runs down each side of the hill has completely disappeared. Underground, two long galleries of about 125 yards each are being dug to intercept the enemy. Again we find ourselves on ground where mining warfare progresses. The length of these galleries renders the work extremely difficult; the air there is bad and at the end of the tunnel our sappers can only work for a few hours.
The installation of electric lights and ventilators betters, from day to day, living conditions which exist in these villainous holes.
These latter also occasion a visit from the Colonel of Engineers, who, on a certain night, comes to inspect the improvements. He always has a kind word for everyone.
Arriving at the end of the gallery, he questions the brave _poilu_, who, in the presence of his colonel works with an exaggerated rapidity.
"You ought to be very grateful to your lieutenant who furnishes you with light and air."
THE LOGICAL POILU, CHEVALIERS WOOD. _January_, 1916.
Chevaliers Wood appears to be at the extreme ends of the earth, so much so that one feels far away from everything down there. The cold is dry and piercing. Pretty, white smoke rises from the shelters, in which are burning bright log fires. The ground, on the outside, is covered with snow.
I am going back to the trenches, having at my side a little blue devil. The _poilu_ is leading a mule, a nice, gentle mule, carrying ammunition to a machine-gun section.
We passed at the side of a 75 battery, so well _camouflée_ that we had not seen it. We are just even with it when it begins to fire.