"Every morning," said Miss C----, "before the German bombardment
begins, three small shells are sent over in quick succession. Then
there is about fifteen minutes' wait before the real shelling. I am
convinced that it is a signal to some one to get out."
The officers pooh-poohed the idea. But Miss C---- stuck to her point.
"They are getting information somehow," she said. "You may laugh if
you like. I am sure I am right."
Later on an officer explained to me something about the secret service
of the war.
"It is a war of spies," he said. "That is one reason for the deadlock.
Every movement is reported to the other side and checkmated almost
before it begins. In the eastern field of war the system is still
inadequate; that accounts for the great movements that have taken
place there."
Perhaps he is right. It sounds reasonable. I do not know with what
authority he spoke. But certainly everywhere I found this talk of
spies. One of the officers that night told of a recent experience of
his.
"I was in a church tower at ----," he said. "There were three of us.
We had been looking over toward the German lines. Suddenly I looked
down into the street below. Some one with an electric flash was
signalling across. It was quite distinct. All of us saw it. There was
an answer from the German trenches immediately.
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