On the third day, heavy gunfire projects beyond Paul's dugout as the French launch an attack. The trenches, blown apart, attest to the fierceness of the fight. Like robots, the men fall back to more stable positions, surprising the Allies with fierce resistance, then plunge ahead in renewed effort. Paul sees glimpses of carnage as he rushes to capture enemy positions. He and the others, after an hour's rest, consume French rations of canned corned beef, bread, and cognac.
At nightfall, Paul clutches a dew-sprinkled gun and walks sentry duty in a cathedral courtyard under cover of mist. After the day's battle, he has difficulty recovering his composure. He allows his mind and emotions to focus on the poplar avenue, which evokes nostalgic memories of home, of innocent play: "We loved them dearly [the trees], and the image of those days still makes my heart pause in its beating." Overcome with melancholy, he longs to immerse himself in the serenity of nature, but concludes, "[W]e fear and love without hope."
As the war drags on, Paul loses his sense of time. He and the others attempt to retrieve the wounded, one of whom pleads for rescue but lies hidden from the search party. The offer of a reward for finding him fails. In searching, Albert is slightly wounded. The dying man calls faintly for a woman named Elise, then lapses into weeping. Against a backdrop of fleecy clouds, fresh winds, and blue skies, the dead putrefy, sickening the survivors with a sweetish smell.
