ct the attention of the enemy
artillery to our cars, for in some places the road was visible to the
enemy. I drove together with Bethmann. When discussing the military
leaders, he remarked: 'The generals will probably throw hand grenades
at me when they see me.'

"An enemy flier cruised high up in the clouds over our heads. He
circled around, paying little heed to the shrapnel bursting on all
sides. The firing ceased, and the human bird soared into
unapproachable heights. The artillery fire a long way off sounded like
distant thunder.

"The French lines are not more than a couple of hundred metres distant
from the camp. A shot fell here and there and a shell was heard to
whistle; otherwise all was quiet. It was still early. The firing
usually begins at ten and ceases at noon--interval for lunch--and
begins again in the afternoon.

"Poincare's villa is visible on the horizon in the green landscape. A
gun has been brought to bear on the house--they mean to destroy it
before leaving--they call this the extreme unction.

"The daily artillery duel began on our return drive, and kept up an
incessant roar.

"_St. Mihiel._

"We stopped at St. Mihiel, where many French people still remain. They
were detained as hostages to prevent the town from being fired at.
People were standing about in the streets watching the cars go by.

"I spoke to an old woman, who sat by herself on her house-steps. She
said: 'This disaster can never be made good, and it cannot well be
worse than it is now. It is quite the same to me what happens. I do
not belong here; my only son has been killed and my house is burnt.
Nothing is left me but my hatred of the Germans, and I bequeath that
to France.' And she gazed past me into vacancy. She spoke quite
without passion, but was terribly sad.

"This terrible hatred! Generations will go to their graves before the
flood of hatred is abated. Would a settlement, a peace of
understanding, be possible with this spirit of the nations? Will it
not end by one of them being felled to earth and annihilated?

"_St. Privat._

"We passed through St. Privat on our way to Metz. Monuments that tell
the tale of 1870 stand along the road. Everywhere the soil is
historic, soaked in blood. Every spot, every stone, is reminiscent of
past great times. It was here that the seed was sown that brought
forth the plan of revenge that is being fought for now.

"Bethmann seemed to divine my thoughts. 'Yes,' he said, 'th