But snow is
comparatively rare here, and it has not been considered necessary."
At a small bridge ten miles from Bethune he pointed out a house as
marking the farthest advance of the German Army, reached about the
eleventh of October. There was no evidence of the hard fighting that
had gone on along this road. It was a peaceful scene, the black
branches of the overarching trees lightly powdered with snow. But the
snowy fields were full of unmarked mounds. Another year, and the
mounds will have sunk to the level of the ground. Another year, and
only history will tell the story of that October of 1914 along the
great Bethune road.
An English aeroplane was overhead. There were armoured cars on the
road, going toward the front; top-heavy machines that made
surprisingly little noise, considering their weight. Some had a sort
of conning tower at the top. They looked sombre, menacing. The driving
of these cars over slippery roads must be difficult. Like the vans,
they keep as near the centre of the road as possible, allowing lighter
traffic to turn out to pass them. A van had broken down and was being
repaired at one of the wayside repair shops maintained everywhere
along the roads for this war of machinery. Men in khaki with leather
aprons were working about it, while the driver stood by, smoking a
pipe.
Pages:
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321