It was one of the
greatest disappointments I ever remember."
We were in Bethune at last--a crowded town, larger than any I had seen
since I left Dunkirk. So congested were its narrow streets with
soldiers, mounted and on foot, and with all the ghastly machinery of
war, that a traffic squad had taken charge and was directing things.
On some streets it was possible to go only in one direction. I looked
about for the signs of destruction that had grown so familiar to me,
but I saw none. Evidently the bombardment of Bethune has not yet done
much damage.
A squad of artillerymen marched by in perfect step; their faces were
keen, bronzed. They were fine-looking, well-set-up men, as smart as
English artillerymen always are. I watched them as long as I could see
them.
We had lost our way, owing to the regulations of the traffic squad. It
was necessary to stop and inquire. Then at last we crossed a small
bridge over the canal, and were on our way along the front, behind the
advanced trenches and just in front of the second line.
For a few miles the country was very level. The firing was on our
right, the second line of trenches on our left. The congestion of
Bethune had given way to the extreme peace in daylight of the region
just behind the trenches. There were few wagons, few soldiers.
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