The earth of the open spaces near by was thrown into yellow and brown heaps by the hundreds of howitzer shells that had rained on them for days. Dozens of dead horses, scattered about, offended the eye and polluted the air.
A detachment of troopers, bent on rendering the trenches of the near by G.H.Q. line a more safe shelter, had been spied by the Hun gunners, who for hours sent a continual shower of shells over them.
I had not waited long before I found I was not the only occupant of my shelter. My companions bit me surreptitiously, leaving red blotches which burned irritatingly.
I sat in the open air for a few moments, deciding there was not sufficient room in the dug-out for my small but persistent comrades and myself, but a big shell landed near and sent such a spattering horde of splinters all around that I ducked back underground and took my chance with the less serious wounds of the busy little dug-out folk, who seemed half starved, in spite of the ham bone and marmalade that had been left to them.
A couple of worried, hungry mongrel dogs came nosing about fearfully, heads cocked inquisitively when they caught sight of me. I gave them the bone and was thanked by a series of tailwags from each.
A Hun shell set fire to a building not far distant, and soon immense clouds of black and saffron smoke were rolling heavenwards.
Many shells came close to where I was tucked away, one throwing a cart load of débris over my car, but none of them in the least disturbing the tranquillity of my snug quarters.
Returning through Ypres, we found the Menin Road and bridge had been further hammered since we had come over it. At one or two points it was almost impassable for a car. The carcass of a dead horse had been blown right across the path, so that I was compelled to pass over part of it.
Houses were smoking on all sides, and red flames rose skyward in several quarters of the town.
A solitary old woman in black was picking her way tortuously past the dead and over the tumbled piles of brick and stone. She was, we thought, the last survivor of the civil population.