About midnight we saw, through the golden line of a dugout's half-open door, some officers seated at a white table--a cloth or a map.

Some one cries, "They're lucky!" The company officers are exposed to dangers as we are, but only in attacks and reliefs.

We suffer long.

They have neither the vigil at the loophole, nor the knapsack, nor the fatigues.

What always lasts is greater.
And now the walls of flabby flagstones and the open-mouthed caves have begun again.