noon
They commence theirs on their big drums with a dismal roll which gives you the idea of a funeral . But , on the contrary , their buglers have pretty airs for sounding the reveille , while ours only give two or three blasts , as much as to say : `` Come , let us be going ! there is no time to lose . '' Everybody rose and the sun came up splendidly over the grain fields , and we could feel beforehand how hot it would be at noon . Buche and all the detailed men set off with their canteens for water , while others were lighting handfuls of straw with tinder for their fires . There was no lack of wood , as each one took an armful from the piles that were already cut . Corporal Duhem and Sergeant Rabot and Zébédé came to have a talk with me .