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Page 46
But I _would_ make the best of things. I _would_ enjoy the immediate
present--was I not losing hours of sheer pleasure by harbouring these
thoughts and ignoring the beauty of the day?
Some distance ahead was a farm of the usual Flemish type--a thatched
roof, whitewashed walls, and green shutters. Near by was a little pond
with willows growing round it. In the field beyond, a cow was grazing
peacefully. The sky seemed a deeper blue through the willow-branches.
The tender green of the grass was wonderfully refreshing to the eyes.
The cow had a beautiful coat of glossy brown that shone in the sunlight.
I abandoned myself to the charm of the little idyll that was spread out
before me and forgot the war once again.
And then all at once a gigantic, plume-shaped, sepia coloured mass rose
towering out of the ground. There was a rending, deafening, double
thunder-clap that seemed to split my head. For a moment I was dazed and
my ears sang. Then I looked up--the black mass was thinning and
collapsing. The cow had disappeared.
I walked into the yard full of rage and bitterness. All the men had left
the sheds and were flocking into the road. Some were strolling along in
leisurely fashion, some were walking with hurried steps, some were
running, some were laughing and talking, some looked startled, some
looked anxious, and some were very pale.
We crossed the road and the railway. Then, traversing several fields, we
came to a halt and waited. We waited for nearly an hour, but nothing
happened and we gradually straggled back to the yard.
Some of us walked to the spot where the shell had burst. There was a
huge hole, edged by a ring of heaped-up earth, and loose mould and
grassy sods lay scattered all round. Here and there lay big lumps of
bleeding flesh. The cow had been blown to bits. The larger pieces had
already been collected by the farmer, who had covered them with a
tarpaulin sheet from which a hoof protruded.
The next day, at about the same hour, the dark cloud again rose from the
ground and the double explosion followed. We again abandoned the yard
and waited in the field. But this time there were several further
shell-bursts. No dull boom in the distance followed by a long-drawn
whine, but only the earth and smoke thrown darkly up and then the
deafening double detonation.
The next day more shells came over, and the next day also.
The big holes with their earthen rims began to dot the fields in many
places. No damage of "military importance" had been done. Not even a
soldier had been killed, but only an inoffensive cow.
At night the sky was alive with the whirr of propellers, and shells
whistled overhead and burst a long way off.
One Sunday, toward the end of March, when we had a half-holiday, I
walked up the hill that was crowned by a large monastery and sat down
on the slope by a group of sallows. They were in full bloom. A swarm of
bees and flies were buzzing round. Peacock and Tortoiseshell butterflies
were flitting to and fro. The sunlight filtered down through the bluish
haze. I rested and let an hour or two slip by. Then I got up and crossed
a little brook and strolled along a narrow path that wound its way
through a copse. The ground was starred with wood-anemones, oxlips,
violets, cuckoo-flowers, and in damp places with green-golden saxifrage.
I came to a small cottage that had pots of flowers in every window. I
sat down while a hospitable old woman made coffee and chattered volubly
in Flemish. Another soldier arrived soon after. Had I heard the news?
The Germans had broken through on the Somme and had captured Bapaume. I
asked him if he had seen it in print. No, he had heard it from an A.S.C.
driver. He hoped it wasn't true, but he feared it was.
I returned to camp full of suppressed excitement.
Something was wrong. The shelling of the back-areas continued; air-raids
became more and more frequent. These were ominous signs.
Then the newspapers arrived. The Somme front had collapsed. The Fifth
Army was in full retreat. The Germans had taken Bapaume and Peronne and
were threatening Amiens.
* * * * *
Had I been living in Germany during the war I would have felt a powerful
tendency to defend the cause of the Allies, to excuse their misdeeds, to
overrate their ability, while being highly critical and censorious of
every German shortcoming.
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