ng
their lives for its future, they all resemble one another in the same
perfection.

2

My friend Raymond Bon was a sergeant in the 27th battalion of the
Chasseurs Alpins. He left for the front in August, 1914, with the
other recruits of the 1915 class, which means that he was hardly
twenty years of age; and he won his stripes on the battlefield, after
being twice named in dispatches. The second time was on returning from
a murderous assault at Thann, in Upper Alsace, in which he had greatly
distinguished himself. I quote the exact words:

"Corporal Bon is mentioned in the orders of the battalion
for his gallantry under fire and his indifference to danger.
When the leader of his section was killed, Bon took command,
rushed to the front and, shouting to his men to follow him,
gave proofs of the greatest initiative and courage. He was
the first in the enemy's trenches with his section."

That day he was promoted to sergeant and complimented by the general
in front of his battalion in the following terms:

"This is the second time, my friend, that I am told what
you have done; next time you shall be told what I have
done."

To-day men tell of his death, but also of the undying glory which
death alone confers.

"At Hartmannsviller," writes one of Bon's comrades,
"according to his captain's story, our friend's company was
held in reserve, waiting to support the attack delivered by
a regiment of infantry. The order came to support and
reinforce the attack. The company at once leapt from the
trenches, with the captain and Bon at its head. There was a
salvo of artillery; and the bursting of a great shell caught
Raymond almost full in the body, smashing his right leg and
his chest. The captain was hit in the right hand.
Notwithstanding his horrible wounds, Bon did not lose
consciousness; he was able to stammer out a few words and to
press the hand which the captain gave him. In less than two
minutes all was over."

And the captain adds:

"Always ready to sacrifice himself; a brave among the
brave."

These are modest and yet glorious details: modest because they are so
very common, because they are constantly being repeated in their noble
monotony and springing up from every side, numberless as the essential
actions of our daily life; and glorious because before this war they
seemed so rare a