l that we traveled at a cup-racing clip along a road that first
wound like a coiling snake and then straightened like a striking snake,
and that always we traveled through dust so thick it made a fog. In
this chalky land of northern France the brittle soil dries out after a
rain very quickly, and turns into a white powder where there are wheels
to churn it up and grit it fine. Here surely there was an abundance of
wheels. We passed many marching men and many lumbering supply trains
which were going our way, and we met many motor ambulances and many
ammunition trucks which were coming back. Always the ambulances were
full and the ammunition wagons were empty. I judge an expert in these
things might by the fullness of the one and the emptiness of the other
gauge the emphasis with which the fight ahead went on. The drivers of
the trucks nearly all wore captured French caps and French uniform
coats, which adornment the marching men invariably regarded as a quaint
jest to be laughed at and cheered for.

We stopped at our appointed place, which was on the top of a ridge where
a general of a corps had his headquarters. From here one had a view--a
fair view and, roughly, a fan-shaped view--of certain highly important
artillery operations. Likewise, the eminence, gentle and gradual as it
was, commanded a mile-long stretch of the road, which formed the main
line of communication between the front and the base; and these two
facts in part explained why the general had made this his abiding place.
Even my layman's mind could sense the reasons for establishing
headquarters at such a spot.

As for the general, he and his staff, at the moment of our arrival in
their midst, were stationed at the edge of a scanty woodland where
telescopes stood and a table with maps and charts on it. Quite with the
manner of men who had nothing to do except to enjoy the sunshine and
breathe the fresh air, they strolled back and forth in pairs and trios.
I think it must have been through force of habit that, when they halted
to turn about and retrace the route, they stopped always for a moment or
two and faced southward. It was from the southward that there came
rolling up to us the sounds of a bellowing chorus of gunfire--a
Wagnerian chorus, truly. That perhaps was as it should be. Wagner's
countrymen were helping to make it. Now the separate reports strung out
until you could count perhaps three between reports; now they came so
close toge