was Sept. 30. The next day I could hear guns. They started at about
8 o'clock in the morning, the French guns being in position about five
kilometers outside of Arras to the south, southeast, and east, sixteen
batteries of France's artillery or 75-millimeter calibre.

All day long the guns thundered and roared, and all day long I sat
outside the cafe of the Hotel des Voyageurs in the Place de la Gare. The
station building was right in front of me. I longed for a position which
would enable me to see over the tall buildings on to the battlefield
beyond. Even the roof of the station would have suited. There was a
little crowd of officials already there with their field glasses, and
they could discern what was going on, for I noticed several pointing
here and there whenever a particularly loud explosion was heard.

Two men in civilian clothes sat down beside me and gave me "good day,"
evidently curious as to my nationality. I invited them to join me in
coffee and cognac, and during the ensuing conversation we all became
very friendly, and I was given to understand that one of them was the
volunteer driver of an auto-mitrailleuse who had just come off duty.

I remarked that it would be very interesting to get a sight of what was
going on behind the station.

"Is it very near--the battle?"

"About five kilometers, Monsieur. The German guns are ten kilometers
distant. One of the German shells exploded behind the station this
morning. Would Monsieur like to walk out a little way?"

"But surely the pickets will not let me pass beyond the barrier," said
I.

My good friend of the auto-mitrailleuse smiled, rose, and buttoned up
his coat. "Come with me," he invited.

At the barrier we were stopped, but luck had not deserted me, for in the
Sergeant in charge of the pickets I recognized another cafe acquaintance
of the previous night. We shook hands, exchanged cigarettes, and
proceeded up and down numerous streets, bearing always southward in the
direction of the firing, until the open country was reached.

My companion suddenly caught hold of my arm and we both jumped up the
bank at the side of the road to let a long string of artillery drivers
trot past on their way back for more ammunition. Another cloud of dust,
and coming up behind us was a fresh lot of shells on the way out to the
firing line.

Right up in the sky ahead suddenly appeared a ball of yellow greeny
smoke, which grew bigger and bigger, and then "boom" cam