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little sick； and then I notice not very obtrusive bandages。
〃Sitting…up cases；〃 my guide explains。
These are part of the casualties of last night's fight。
The fields on either side are now more evidently in the war zone。
The array of carts； the patches of tents； the coming and going of
men increases。 But here are three women harvesting； and
presently in a cornfield are German prisoners working under one
old Frenchman。 Then the fields become trampled again。 Here is a
village； not so very much knocked about； and passing through it
we go slowly beside a long column of men going up to the front。
We scan their collars for signs of some familiar regiment。 These
are new men going up for the first time； there is a sort of
solemn elation in many of their faces。
The men coming down are usually smothered in mud or dust； and
unless there has been a fight they look pretty well done up。
They stoop under their equipment； and some of the youngsters
drag。 One pleasant thing about this coming down is the welcome
of the regimental band； which is usually at work as soon as the
men turn off from the high road。 I hear several bands on the
British front； they do much to enhance the general cheerfulness。
On one of these days of my tour I had the pleasure of seeing the
…th Blankshires coming down after a fight。 As we drew near I
saw that they combined an extreme muddiness with an unusual
elasticity。 They all seemed to be looking us in the face instead
of being too fagged to bother。 Then I noticed a nice grey helmet
dangling from one youngster's bayonet； in fact his eye directed
me to it。 A man behind him had a black German helmet of the type
best known in English illustrations； then two more grey appeared。
The catch of helmets was indeed quite considerable。 Then I
perceived on the road bank above and marching parallel with this
column； a double file of still muddier Germans。 Either they wore
caps or went bare…headed。 There were no helmets among them。 We
do not rob our prisoners buta helmet is a weapon。 Anyhow； it
is an irresistible souvenir。
Now and then one sees afar off an ammunition dump； many hundreds
of stacks of shellswithout their detonators as yetbeing
unloaded from railway trucks； transferred from the broad gauge to
the narrow gauge line； or loaded onto motor trolleys。 Now and
then one crosses a railway line。 The railway lines run
everywhere behind the British front； the construction follows the
advance day by day。 They go up as fast as the guns。 One's guide
remarks as the car bumps over the level crossing； 〃That is one of
Haig's railways。〃 It is an aspect of the Commander…in…Chief that
has much impressed and pleased the men。 And at last we begin to
enter the region of the former Allied trenches； we pass the old
German front line； we pass ruined houses； ruined fields； and
thick patches of clustering wooden crosses and boards where the
dead of the opening assaults lie。 There are no more reapers now；
there is no more green upon the fields； there is no green
anywhere； scarcely a tree survives by the roadside； but only
overthrown trunks and splintered stumps； the fields are
wildernesses of shell craters and coarse weeds； the very woods
are collections of blasted stems and stripped branches。 This
absolutely ravaged and ruined battlefield country extends now
along the front of the Somme offensive for a depth of many miles；
across it the French and British camps and batteries creep
forward； the stores； the dumps； the railways creep forward； in
their untiring； victorious thrust against the German lines。
Overhead hum and roar the aeroplanes； away towards the enemy the
humped； blue sausage…shaped kite balloons brood thoughtfully； and
from this point and that； guns； curiously invisible until they
speak； flash suddenly and strike their one short hammer…blow of
sound。
Then one sees an enemy shell drop among the little patch of trees
on the crest to the right； and kick up a great red…black mass of
smoke and dust。 We see it； and then we hear the whine of its
arrival and at last the bang。 The Germans are blind now； they
have lost the air； they are firing by guesswork and their
knowledge of the abandoned territory。
〃They think they have got divisional headquarters there；〃 someone
remarks。。。。 〃They haven't。 But they keep on。〃
In this zone where shells burst the wise automobile stops and
tucks itself away as inconspicuously as possible close up to a
heap of ruins。 There is very little traffic on the road now
except for a van or so that hurries up； unloads； and gets back as
soon as possible。 Mules and men are taking the stuff the rest of
the journey。 We are in a flattened village； all undermined by
dug…outs that were in the original German second line。 We report
ourselves to a young troglodyte in one of these； and are given a
guide； and so set out on the last part of the journey to the
ultimate point； across the land of shell craters and barbed wire
litter and old and new trenches。 We have all put on British
steel helmets； hard but heavy and inelegant head coverings。 I
can write little that is printable about these aesthetic crimes。
The French and German helmets are noble and beautiful things。
These lumpish /pans。/。。
They ought to be called by the name of the man who designed
them。
Presently we are advised to get into a communication trench。 It
is not a very attractive communication trench； and we stick to
our track across the open。 Three or four shells shiver overhead；
but we decide they are British shells； going out。 We reach a
supporting trench in which men are waiting in a state of nearly
insupportable boredom for the midday stew； the one event of
interest in a day…long vigil。 Here we are told imperatively to
come right in at once； and we do。
All communication trenches are tortuous and practically endless。
On an offensive front they have vertical sides of unsupported
earth and occasional soakaways for rain； covered by wooden
gratings； and they go on and on and on。 At rare intervals they
branch； and a notice board says 〃To Regent Street；〃 or 〃To Oxford
Street；〃 or some such lie。 It is all just trench。 For a time
you talk； but talking in single file soon palls。 You cease to
talk； and trudge。 A great number of telephone wires come into
the trench and cross and recross it。 You cannot keep clear of
them。 Your helmet pings against them and they try to remove it。
Sometimes you have to stop and crawl under wires。 Then you
wonder what the trench is like in really wet weather。 You hear a
shell burst at no great distance。 You pass two pages of /The
Strand Magazine。/ Perhaps thirty yards on you pass a
cigarette end。 After these sensational incidents the trench
quiets down again and continues to wind endlesslyjust a sandy；
extremely narrow vertical walled trench。 A giant crack。
At last you reach the front line trench。 On an offensive sector
it has none of the architectural interest of first line trenches
at such places as Soissons or Arras。 It was made a week or so
ago by joining up shell craters； and if all goes well we move
into the German trench along by the line of scraggy trees； at