rs were cleared. In one
underground room in that barracks, nearly fifty of the enemy were
found lying dead in their bunks, all unwounded, and as though asleep.
They had been killed by the concussion of the air following on the
burst of a big shell at the entrance.

[Illustration: The Ancre River]

One other thing may be mentioned about this Hawthorn Ridge. It runs
parallel with the next spur (the Beaucourt spur) immediately to the
north of it, then in the enemy's hands. Just over the crest of this
spur, out of sight from our lines, is a country road, well banked and
screened, leading from Beaucourt to Serre. This road was known by our
men as Artillery Lane, because it was used as a battery position by
the enemy. The wrecks of several of his guns lie in the mud there
still. From the crest in front of this road there is a view to the
westward, so wonderful that those who see it realize at once that the
enemy position on the Ridge, which, at a first glance, seems badly
sited for observation, is, really, well placed. From this crest, the
Ridge-top, all our old front line, and nearly all the No Man's Land
upon it, is exposed, and plainly to be seen. On a reasonably clear
day, no man could leave our old line unseen from this crest. No
artillery officer, correcting the fire of a battery, could ask for a
better place from which to watch the bursts of his shells. This crest,
in front of the lane of enemy guns, made it possible for the enemy
batteries to drop shells upon our front line trenches before all the
men were out of them at the instant of the great attack.

The old English line runs along the Hawthorn Ridge-top for some
hundreds of yards, and then crosses a dip or valley, which is the
broad, fanshaped, southern end of a fork of Y Ravine. A road runs, or
ran, down this dip into the Y Ravine. It is not now recognisable as a
road, but the steep banks at each side of it, and some bluish
metalling in the shell holes, show that one once ran there. These
banks are covered with hawthorn bushes. A remblai, also topped with
hawthorn, lies a little to the north of this road.

From this lynchet, looking down the valley into the Y Ravine, the
enemy position is saddle-shaped, low in the middle, where the Y
Ravine narrows, and rising to right and left to a good height. Chalk
hills from their form often seem higher than they really are,
especially in any kind of haze. Often they have mystery and nearly
always beauty. For some rea