had dropped in quick succession, as
further evidence of how well they had got the range.

"The fellow continued 'on the job' quite shamelessly until the 18th," he
went on, "when I aimed two shots at the cathedral, and only two. No more
were needed to dislodge him. One from a 15-centimeter howitzer struck
the top of the 'observation tower,' the other, from a 21-centimeter
mortar, hit the roof and set it on fire. I used both howitzers and
mortars so as to let the French know that we could shoot well with both
kinds. I wanted to dislodge the observer with the least possible damage
to the fine old cathedral, and the result shows that it is possible to
shoot just as accurately with heavy artillery as with field artillery.
The French also had a battery planted about 100 yards from the
cathedral. It isn't there any more," he added laconically.

A few turns of the screw brought a row of trees marking a boulevard into
the field of vision. "There is a French battery there at the present
time," he said.

"How do you know?" For I saw trees but no guns.

"Aeroplanes," "the friend of the Cathedral" explained. Another turn of
the screw brought a church steeple into view.

"The French are now using this church steeple for observation purposes,"
the battery commander said. "The observer is reported to me every
morning. He is getting to be too shameless. I shall take a shot at that
steeple this afternoon in all probability. And then I suppose they will
again call us barbarians. I saw the fellow myself this morning. He sits
in that little arched window there." I saw the window quite distinctly,
and only regret that the culprit had climbed down for the luncheon
intermission, which is religiously kept by both the French and German
artillery.

A tour of the wrecked fort followed and among other interesting sights
the guide pointed out the trail of the famous freak shot that killed the
cow. The shell went first through a glass window, then through the wall
at the back of the room, into a second chamber, where, without
exploding, it had amputated a hind leg of the milch cow whose loss is
still mourned by two batteries of heavy artillery.

Up to now, war as experienced from the vantage ground of a high hill
overlooking Rheims seemed a pleasant picnic, for the German arsenal was
well stocked with plenty of good food, while the Chief of the Division
Staff, with typical German hospitality, had sent along his adjutant
armed with two baskets