The papers
say that they are shelling Ypres and that it is burning. They were
shelling it that day also. But now, as then, I cannot believe it is
burning. There was nothing left to burn.
While arrangements were being made to visit the batteries, Lieutenant
Puaux explained to me a method they had established at that point for
measuring the altitude of hostile aeroplanes for the guns.
"At some anti-aircfaft batteries," he explained, "they have the
telemeter for that purpose. But here there is none. So they use the
system of _visee laterale_, or side sight, literally."
He explained it all carefully to me. I understood it at the time, I
think.
I remember saying it was perfectly clear, and a child could do it, and
a number of other things. But the system of _visee laterale_ has gone
into that part of my mind which contains the Latin irregular verbs,
harmonies, the catechism and answers to riddles.
There is a curious feeling that comes with the firing of a large
battery at an unseen enemy. One moment the air is still; there is a
peaceful plain round. The sun shines, and heavy cart horses, drawing a
wagon filled with stones for repairing a road, are moving forward
steadily, their heads down, their feet sinking deep in the mud. The
next moment hell breaks loose. The great guns stand with smoking jaws.
Pages:
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230