Hugo stepped over him. He was trembling and nauseated. A more formidable man approached warily. The bellow of battle returned to Hugo’s ears. He pushed back the threatening rifle easily and caught the neck in one hand, crushing it to a wet, sticky handful. So he walked through the trench, a machine that killed quickly and remorselessly—a black warrior from a distant realm of the universe where the gods had bred another kind of man.

He came upon Shayne and found him engaged. Hugo stuck his opponent in the back. No thought of fair play, no object but to kill—it did not matter how. Dead Legionnaires and dead Germans mingled blood underfoot. The trench was like the floor of an abattoir. Someone gave him a drink. The men who remained went on across the ash dump to a second trench.

It was night. The men, almost too tired to see or move, were trying to barricade themselves against the ceaseless shell fire of the enemy. They filled bags with gory mud and lifted them on the crumbling walls. At dawn the Germans would return to do what they had done. The darkness reverberated and quivered. Hugo worked like a Trojan. His efforts had made a wide and deep hole in which machine guns were being placed. Shayne fell at his feet. Hugo lifted him up. The captain nodded. “Give him a drink.”

Someone brought liquor, and Hugo poured it between Shayne’s teeth. “Huh!” Shayne said.

“Come on, boy.”

“How did you like it, Danner?”

Hugo did not answer. Shayne went on, “I didn’t either—much. This is no gentleman’s war. Jesus! I saw a thing or two this morning. A guy walking with all his—”

“Never mind. Take another drink.”

“Got anything to eat?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, we can fight on empty bellies. The Germans will empty them for us anyhow.”

“The hell they will.”

“I’m pretty nearly all in.”

“So’s everyone.”

They put Hugo on watch because he still seemed fresh. Those men who were not compelled to stay awake fell into the dirt and slept immediately. Toward dawn Hugo heard sounds in no man’s land. He leaped over the parapet. In three jumps he found himself among the enemy. They were creeping forward. Hugo leaped back. “Ils viennent!”

Men who slept like death were kicked conscious. They rose and fired into the night. The surprise of the attack was destroyed. The enemy came on, engaging in the darkness with the exhausted Legionnaires. Twice Hugo went among them when inundation threatened and, using his rifle barrel as a club, laid waste on every hand. He walked through them striking and shattering. And twice he saved his salient from extermination. Day came sullenly. It began to rain. The men stood silently among their dead.