“Here I have been in action, have fought, on m’a vu au feu ,” 102 he continued, “but when will it end? Never, I think! And my strength and energy are beginning to fail. And then, I had imagined la guerre, la vie de camp , 103 but it turns out to be quite different from what I expected: dressed in a sheepskin, in soldier’s boots, unwashed, you are sent to the outposts, and lie all night in a ditch with some Antonov or other who has been sent into the army for drunkenness, and at any moment you may be shot from behind a bush⁠—you or Antonov, all the same.⁠ ⁠… That is not courage! It is horrible. C’est affreux, ça tue. ’ 104

“Well, but you may be made a noncommissioned officer for this expedition, and next year may become an ensign,” I said.