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intermediate dressing station； rigged up with wood and
tarpaulins； and orderlies were packing two wounded men into an
ambulance。 The men on the stretchers were grey faced； as though
they had been trodden on by some gigantic dirty boot。
As we came back towards where our car waited by the cemetery I
heard the jingle of a horseman coming across the space behind us。
I turned and beheld one of the odd contrasts that seem always to
be happening in this incredible war。 This man was； I suppose； a
native officer of some cavalry force from French north Africa。
He was a handsome dark brown Arab； wearing a long yellow…white
robe and a tall cap about which ran a band of sheepskin。 He was
riding one of those little fine lean horses with long tails that
I think are Barbary horses； his archaic saddle rose fore and aft
of him； and the turned…up toes of his soft leather boots were
stuck into great silver stirrups。 He might have ridden straight
out of the Arabian nights。 He passed thoughtfully； picking his
way delicately among the wire and the shell craters； and coming
into the road； broke into a canter and vanished in the direction
of the smashed…up refinery。
2
About such towns as Rheims or Arras or Soissons there is an
effect of waiting stillness like nothing else I have ever
experienced。 At Arras the situation is almost incredible to the
civilian mind。 The British hold the town； the Germans hold a
northern suburb； at one point near the river the trenches are
just four metres apart。 This state of tension has lasted for
long months。
Unless a very big attack is contemplated； I suppose there is no
advantage in an assault； across that narrow interval we should
only get into trenches that might be costly or impossible to
hold； and so it would be for the Germans on our side。 But there
is a kind of etiquette observed； loud vulgar talking on either
side of the four…metre gap leads at once to bomb throwing。 And
meanwhile on both sides guns of various calibre keep up an
intermittent fire； the German guns registerI think that is the
right termon the cross of Arras cathedral； the British guns
search lovingly for the German batteries。 As one walks about the
silent streets one hears； 〃/Bang/…Pheeee…woooo〃 and then far
away 〃/dump。/〃 One of ours。 Then presently back comes
〃Pheeee…woooo…/Bang！/〃 One of theirs。
Amidst these pleasantries； the life of the town goes on。 /Le
Lion d'Arras/； an excellent illustrated paper； produces its
valiant sheets； and has done so since the siege began。
The current number of /Le Lion d'Arras/ had to report a
local German success。 Overnight they had killed a gendarme。
There is to be a public funeral and much ceremony。 It is rare
for anyone now to get killed； everything is so systematised。
You may buy postcards with views of the destruction at various
angles； and send them off with the Arras postmark。 The town is
not without a certain business activity。 There is； I am told； a
considerable influx of visitors of a special sort； they wear
khaki and lead the troglodytic life。 They play cards and gossip
and sleep in the shadows； and may not walk the streets。 I had
one glimpse of a dark crowded cellar。 Now and then one sees a
British soldier on some special errand； he keeps to the pavement；
mindful of the spying German sausage balloon in the air。 The
streets are strangely quite and grass grows between the stones。
The Hotel de Ville and the cathedral are now mostly heaps of
litter； but many streets of the town have suffered very little。
Here and there a house has been crushed and one or two have been
bisected； the front reduced to a heap of splinters and the back
halves of the rooms left so that one sees the bed； the hanging
end of the carpet； the clothes cupboard yawning open； the
pictures still on the wall。 In one place a lamp stands on a
chest of drawers； on a shelf of floor cut off completely from the
world below。。。。 Pheeee…woooo…/Bang！/ One would be
irresistibly reminded of a Sunday afternoon in the city of
London； if it were not for those unmeaning explosions。
I went to the station； a dead railway station。 A notice…board
requested us to walk around the silent square on the outside
pavement and not across it。 The German sausage balloon had not
been up for days； it had probably gone off to the Somme； the
Somme was a terrible vortex just then which was sucking away the
resources of the whole German line； but still discipline is
discipline。 The sausage might come peeping up at any moment over
the station roof； and so we skirted the square。 Arras was fought
for in the early stages of the war； two lines of sand…bagged
breastworks still run obliquely through the station； one is where
the porters used to put luggage upon cabs and one runs the length
of the platform。 The station was a fine one of the modern type；
with a glass roof whose framework still remains； though the glass
powders the floor and is like a fine angular gravel underfoot。
The rails are rails of rust； and cornflowers and mustard and tall
grasses grow amidst the ballast。 The waiting…rooms have suffered
from a shell or so； but there are still the sofas of green plush；
askew； a little advertisement hung from the wall； the glass
smashed。 The ticket bureau is as if a giant had scattered a
great number of tickets； mostly still done up in bundles； to
Douai； to Valenciennes； to Lens and so on。 These tickets are
souvenirs too portable to resist。 I gave way to that common
weakness。
I went out and looked up and down the line； two deserted goods
trucks stood as if they sheltered under a footbridge。 The grass
poked out through their wheels。 The railway signals seemed
uncertain in their intimations； some were up and some were down。
And it was as still and empty as a summer afternoon in Pompeii。
No train has come into Arras for two long years now。
We lunched in a sunny garden with various men who love Arras but
are weary of it； and we disputed about Irish politics。 We
discussed the political future of Sir F。 E。 Smith。 We also
disputed whether there was an equivalent in English for
/embusque。/ Every now and then a shell came overan
aimless shell。
A certain liveliness marked our departure from the town。
Possibly the Germans also listen for the rare infrequent
automobile。 At any rate； as we were just starting our way back
it is improper to mention the exact point from which we started
came 〃Pheeee…woooo。〃 Quite close。 But there was no /Bang！/
One's mind hung expectant and disappointed。 It was a dud shell。
And then suddenly I became acutely aware of the personality of
our chauffeur。 It was not his business to talk to us； but he
turned his head； showed a sharp profile； wry lips and a bright
excited eye； and remarked； 〃/That/ was a near oneanyhow。〃
He then cut a corner over the pavement and very nearly cut it
through a house。 He bumped us over a shell hole and began to
toot his horn。 At every gateway； alley； and cross road on this
silent and empty streets of Arras and frequently in between； he
tooted punctiliously。 （It is not proper to sound motor horns in
Arras。） I cannot imagine what the listening Germans made of it。
We passed the old gates of that city of fear； still tooting
vehemently； and then with shoulders eloquent of his feelings； our
chauffeur abandoned the horn altogether and put his whole soul
into the accelerator。。。。
3
Soissons was in very much the same case as Arras。 There was the
same pregnant silence in her streets； the same effect of waiting
for the moment which draws nearer and nearer； when the brooding
German lines away there will be full of the covert activities of
retreat； when the streets of the old town will stir with the
joyous excitement of the conclusive advance。
The organisation of Soissons for defence is perfect。 I may not
describe it； but think of whatever would stop and destroy an
attacking party or foil the hostile shell。 It is there。 Men
have had nothing else to do and nothing else to think of for two
years。 I crossed the bridge the English made in the pursuit
after the Marne； and went into the first line trenches and peeped
towards the invisible enemy。 To show me exactly where to look a
seventy…five obliged with a shell。 In the crypt of the Abbey of
St。 Medard near by itit must provoke the Germans bitterly to
think that all the rest of the building vanished ages agothe
French boys sleep beside the bones of King Childebert the Second。
They shelter safely in the prison of Louis the Pious。 An
ineffective shell from a German seventy…seven burst in the walled
garden close at hand as I came out from those thousand…year…old
memories again。
The cathedral at Soissons had not been nearly so completely
smashed up as the one at Arras； I doubt if it has been very
greatly fired into。 There is a peculiar beauty in the one long
vertical strip of blue sky between the broken arches in the chief
gap where the wall has tumbled in。 And the people are holding on
in many cases exactly as they are doing in Arras； I do not know
whether it is habit or courage that is most apparent in this
persistence。 About the chief place of the town there are ruined
houses；