REFRAIN
“L’Colo du 12me passe
Regardez ce vaillant
Quand il crie dans l’espace
Joyeus’ment ‘En avant!’
Ses hommes, la mine heureuse
Gaiment suivent sa trace
Sur la route glorieuse. 
Saluez-le, l’Colo du 12me passe.

“AD.  DAUVISTER,
“SOUS-LIEUTENANT.”

We applauded.  It is curious to remember how cheerful we were, how warm and comfortable, there at the House of the Mill of Saint ——­, with war only a step away now.  Curious, until we think that, of all the created world, man is the most adaptable.  Men and horses!  Which is as it should be now, with both men and horses finding themselves in strange places, indeed, and somehow making the best of it.

The copy of the poem, which had been printed at the front, probably on an American hand press, was given to me with Colonel Jacques’ signature on the back, and we prepared to go.  There was much donning of heavy wraps, much bowing and handshaking.  Colonel Jacques saw us out into the wind-swept night.  Then the door of the little house closed again, and we were on our way through the barricade.

Until now our excursion to the trenches, aside from the discomfort of the weather and the mud, had been fairly safe, although there was always the chance of a shell.  To that now was to be added a fresh hazard—­the sniping that goes on all night long.

Our car moved quietly for a mile, paralleling the trenches.  Then it stopped.  The rest of the journey was to be on foot.

All traces of the storm had passed, except for the pools of mud, which, gleaming like small lakes, filled shell holes in the road.  An ammunition lorry had drawn up in the shadow of a hedge and was cautiously unloading.  Evidently the night’s movement of troops was over, for the roads were empty.

A few feet beyond the lorry we came up to the trenches.  We were behind them, only head and shoulders above.

There was no sign of life or movement, except for the silent fusees that burst occasionally a little to our right.  Walking was bad.  The Belgian blocks of the road were coated with slippery mud, and from long use and erosion the stones themselves were rounded, so that our feet slipped over them.  At the right was a shallow ditch three or four feet wide.  Immediately beyond that was the railway embankment where, as Captain F——­ had explained, the Belgian Army had taken up its position after being driven back across the Yser.

The embankment loomed shoulder high, and between it and the ditch were the trenches.  There was no sound from them, but sentries halted us frequently.  On such occasions the party stopped abruptly—­for here sentries are apt to fire first and investigate afterward—­and one officer advanced with the password.

There is always something grim and menacing about the attitude of the sentry as he waits on such occasions.  His carbine is not over his shoulder, but in his hands, ready for use.  The bayonet gleams.  His eyes are fixed watchfully on the advance.  A false move, and his overstrained nerves may send the carbine to his shoulder.