f, that one still vaguely expects to see, there was not
a sign. If it suited their fancy the Germans could turn the hill on
which I stood into a crater of ruin, as they did with Fort Loncin at
Liege. We were well within range, easy range; we lived because they
had no object to serve by such shooting, but we were without even a
hint of their whereabouts.

I have already described the military geography of Verdun. I shall not
attempt to repeat it here, but it is the invisibility of warfare,
whether examined from the earth or the air, which impresses the
civilian. If you go to the trenches you creep through tunnels and
cavities until you are permitted to peer through a peephole, and you
see yellow dirt some yards away. You may hear bullets over your head,
you may hear shells passing, but what you see is a hillside with some
slashings. That is the enemy. If you go to an observation post back of
the trenches, then you will see a whole range of country, but not even
the trenches of your own side.

From the Grand Mont east of Nancy I watched some French batteries
shell the German line. I didn't see the French guns, I didn't see the
German trenches, I didn't see the French line. I did see some black
smoke rising a little above the underbrush, and I was told that the
shells were striking behind the German lines and that the gunners were
searching for a German battery. But I might as well have been
observing a gang of Italians at blasting operations in the Montclair
Mountains. And the officer with me said: "Our children are just
amusing themselves."

From Fort de la Chaume we rode back to the citadel; and there I was
the guest of the General and the officers of the town garrison; their
guest because I was an American who came to see their town. I shall
always remember that luncheon down in the very depths of this rock in
a dimly lighted room. I sat at the General's right, and all around me
were the men whose day's work it was to keep the roads open, the
machinery running in the shell-cursed city. Every time they went out
into daylight they knew that they might not return. For two months the
storm had beaten about this rock, it had written its mark upon all
these faces, and yet it had neither extinguished the light nor the
laughter; the sense of strength and of calmness was inescapable, and
never have I known such charming, such thoughtful hosts.

When the champagne came the old General rose and made me a little
speech. He sp