We could not doubt his sincerity, and felt that he would be hurt if we made any further protest. Where he was to sleep we did not know; but we thanked him, and after bidding him bonsoir, passed inside. There was a single and a double bed in the room. The tables were strewn with swords, revolvers, field glasses, prismatic compasses and all the usual accoutrements of military officers. It was evident the room had been vacated hastily.
The single bed naturally fell to the lot of the colonel, while Reggy and I, being a trifle smaller than he, clambered into the other—a high, old-fashioned one. Reggy sank wearily into the feather mattress and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. He had the happy faculty of being able to sleep anywhere and at any time.
We were to make an early start, and six a.m. came all too soon. A light French breakfast was prepared for us when we descended. About an hour later, after expressing our deep thanks to our gracious hostess, we got into the motor once more and started on the road towards Ypres. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. The sun shone brightly, and not a warlike sound broke the stillness of the clear, cool air as we sped along between the tall poplars which lined the road. One thing only reminded us that we were approaching close to the battle line—the reserve trenches dug on either side. These we passed from time to time; but they were half full of water and uninhabited, and it was apparent there was little thought of their ever being needed.
Here and there a few horses were tethered in poor canvas-covered shelters, and in the farmyards near-by we saw numbers of French military waggons which looked like gipsy carts. Occasionally we overtook a battalion of French or Belgian troops marching quietly towards the trenches. Their apparent absence of any definite marching formation struck us with surprise. They did not walk in line, but ambled along of their own free will; some with loaves of bread or rolls strapped to their knapsacks, and one carrying a roast of beef under his arm. They seemed to have foraged for themselves, and carried along any extras which appealed to their individual fancy. But they were a tall, stalwart-looking body of men, and we felt sure were much better trained than their irregular march would indicate.
We had reached a point about midway between Poperinghe and Ypres. The morning was still soundless, save for the whir of our motor.
"Looking at this blue sky and the quiet fields, who would ever believe there is a war so near?" Reggy remarked.
These words had no sooner fallen from his lips than the air was suddenly rent with the blast of gun after gun, so close on our right that we were startled and instinctively jumped towards the left of our car. The sharp bursting of shells over our heads impelled us to look up, and there directly above us was a German aeroplane.
Shell after shell burst below him, leaving rounded clouds of white smoke hanging in the still air, and as each exploded the aviator rose higher and higher. The range of the guns grew longer; some shells burst above him; some to right or left. Round after round of shrapnel followed his every movement. We looked in vain for the battery. They were so carefully hidden that although we could not have been fifty yards away, there was not the slightest visible sign to indicate their position.
At the same time the whirring rat-tat-tat-tat of a machine gun close beside us on the left made us turn our heads sharply in that direction. At first we could not see this gun either, but guided by the sound we soon discovered it on a platform halfway up the outside of a farmhouse, against the wall, and manned by a French soldier. We watched the aviator with the same interest that a quartette of hunters might view some great bird, hoping to see him winged. But he seemed to bear a charmed life, and dodged shrapnel and machine-gun bullets alike, soaring higher and higher until he became a mere speck in the heavens. Then the firing ceased as abruptly as it had commenced.
Our car had been stopped during this one-sided battle, but now that it was over we started on again. The cobblestone road had been torn up by shell fire in many places, and driving was rough and difficult. We passed batteries of artillery and long lines of army service waggons, wending their way Ypres-ward. There was no further firing for the present and we crossed the bridge over the Yser and entered the town without mishap. From the distance there was little change to be noticed in Ypres; but now that we entered the streets we soon saw the effects of the bombardment. For the most part the smaller houses had not at this time been destroyed; but every large building in the place was in ruins. Churches, convents, schools and factories had been ruthlessly crushed, and the railway station was levelled to the earth. The streets were almost deserted, shops were long since closed, and business was dead.