ing, as part of the willing sacrifice which he made on the
day that, leaving his homestead and his daily occupation, he took up
arms "offering his body as a shield to defend the Heart of France."

Everything might be worse than it is, says the _poilu_, and so he has
composed a litany. Every regiment has a different version, but always
with the same fundamental basis:

"Of two things one is certain: either you're mobilised or you're not
mobilised. If you're not mobilised, there is no need to worry; if you
are mobilised, of two things one is certain: either you're behind the
lines or you're on the front. If you're behind the lines, there is no
need to worry; if you're on the front, of two things one is certain:
either you're resting in a safe place or you're exposed to danger. If
you're resting in a safe place, there is no need to worry; if you're
exposed to danger, of two things one is certain: either you're wounded
or you're not wounded. If you're not wounded, there is no need to worry;
if you are wounded, of two things one is certain: either you're wounded
seriously or you're wounded slightly. If you're wounded slightly, there
is no need to worry; if you're wounded seriously, of two things one is
certain: either you recover or you die. If you recover, there is no need
to worry; if you die, you can't worry."

When once past the "Wall of China," as the French authorities call the
difficult approaches of the war zone, Meaux was the first town of
importance at which we stopped.

We had an opportunity to sample the army bread, as the driver of a
passing bread-wagon flung a large round loaf into our motor.

According to all accounts received from the French soldiers who are in
the prison-camps of Germany, one of the greatest hardships is the lack
of white bread, and they have employed various subterfuges in the
endeavour to let their relatives know that they wish to have bread sent
to them. Some of the Bretons writing home nicknamed bread "Monsieur
Barras," and when there was a very great shortage they would write to
their families: "Ce pauvre Monsieur Barras ne se porte pas tres bien a
present." Finally, the Germans discovered the real significance of M.
Barras, and they added to one of the letters: "Si M. Barras ne se porte
pas tres bien a present, c'est bien la faute de vos amis les Anglais"
("If M. Barras is not very fit, it is the fault of your friends the
English"), and from then all the letters referring to M. Bar