; my life would have been the price, and what would
have become of my family? If there had been anything I could have done,
Messieurs, I would most gladly have done it, but I couldn't do
anything, and the spy would have accomplished his purpose just the same
had I made an attempt."

It was now about 6:30 and on our way back to the gun pit we met a woman
who seemed to be in the depths of despair, accompanied by a little girl.
The woman was weeping bitterly. Our nerves were on edge and we were
suspicious of everybody; trickery, deceit, traitor-work seemed to be in
the very air itself, and we made a resolve that we would shoot anybody,
man, woman or child, whom we saw loitering around our guns who had no
business there; that very day the O.C. had sworn that he would ask no
questions, but would shoot on sight. The woman's story was pitiful in
the extreme.

"Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! My home is gone! My husband is
gone! My children are gone! And for what?"--wringing her hands and
gesticulating wildly. "For what, Messieurs? For being quiet,
inoffensive, loyal people!"

In my clumsy fashion I succeeded in somewhat calming the poor creature,
and she proceeded a little more coherently.

"Well, Messieurs, a man in Algerian uniform came to our house this
morning. He asked permission of my husband, who was a loyal Belgian, to
use our house--for what? To do spy work. My husband ran for a gun and
warned him off. He said, 'You had better think it over; if you don't let
me use your house you have not another day to live!' In spite of this,
my husband presented the gun at him and he made off, but as he was
leaving he called back, 'Do not on any account leave the house today,
any of you, or you will be killed.'

"We watched him and saw him go towards the hedge, and two or three men
with bags met him, and they made off in the direction of your battery.
Then, then--_Mon Dieu!_ How can I tell it!--a shell came and destroyed
our home, killing my dear husband and my two babies."

And again the poor woman burst into a paroxysm of weeping and sank to
the ground in an utterly exhausted condition, moaning aloud in the
despair of her misery. Her little daughter was screaming in terror at
the plight of her mother, and we all set about to comfort them as best
we could, but ah! God! how comfortless our words.

The thought that perhaps the child would be quieted if she had
something to eat suggested itself to me, but I had nothing