We had reached the top of the hill.  We were to await orders there to advance.  The battle-field had been marvellously chosen to slaughter one another at ease.  The immense plain expanded for several leagues, and was quite bare, without a house or tree.  Hedges and bushes made slight spots on the whiteness of the ground.  I have never since seen such a country, an ocean of dust, a chalky soil, bursting open here and there, and displaying its tawny bowels.  And never either have I since witnessed a sky of such intense purity, a July day so lovely and so warm; at eight o’clock the sultry heat was already scorching our faces.  O the splendid morning, and what a sterile plain to kill and die in!

Firing had broken out with irregular crackling sounds, a long time since, supported by the solemn growl of the cannon.  The enemy, Austrians dressed in white, had quitted the heights, and the plain was studded with long files of men, who looked to me about as big as insects.  One might have thought it was an ant-hill in insurrection.  Clouds of smoke hung over the battle-field.  At times, when these clouds broke asunder, I perceived soldiers in flight, smitten with terrified panic.  Thus there were currents of fright which bore men away, and outbursts of shame and courage which brought them back under fire.

I could neither hear the cries of the wounded, nor see the blood flow.  I could only distinguish the dead which the battalions left behind them, and which resembled black patches.  I began to watch the movements of the troops with curiosity, irritated at the smoke which hid a good half of the show, experiencing a sort of egotistic pleasure at the knowledge that I was in security, whilst others were dying.

At about nine o’clock we were ordered to advance.  We went down the hill at the double and proceeded towards the centre which was giving way.  The regular beat of our footsteps appeared to me funeral-like.  The bravest among us panting, pale and with haggard features.

I have made up my mind to tell the truth.  At the first whistle of the bullets, the battalion suddenly came to a halt, tempted to fly.

“Forward, forward!” shouted the chiefs.

But we were riveted to the ground, bowing our heads when a bullet whistled by our ears.  This movement is instinctive; if shame had not restrained me, I would have thrown myself flat on my stomach in the dust.

“Before us was a huge veil of smoke which we dared not penetrate.  Red flashes passed through this smoke.  And, shuddering, we still stood still.  But the bullets reached us; soldiers fell with yells.  The chiefs shouted louder: 

“Forward, forward!”

The rear ranks, which they pushed on, compelled us to march.  Then, closing our eyes, we made a fresh dash and entered the smoke.