The old-fashioned, massive machinery was still standing intact.

Obtaining permission from the officer, they took their places beside the driver of the ambulance, and were soon on their way.
It was already growing dark, but, although the surface of the stone pave was frequently broken with shell-holes, the ambulance, dodging round the holes, rushed without pause along at a high rate of speed.
"You don't use your lights ?" asked Barry.
"No, not lately, sir," said the driver.

"That's the newest order," he added in a tone of disgust.
The road lay between double rows of once noble trees, centuries old, with the first delicate green of spring softening their bare outlines.
Now, splintered, twisted, broken, their wounds showing white in the darkening light through the delicate green, they stood silently eloquent of the terrific force of the H.E.shell.
As they went speeding along the shell-marked road they came upon a huge trunk of a mighty elm, broken clear from its stump, lying partially cross their track, which soldiers were already busy clearing away.
Without an instant's pause, the driver wheeled his car off the 'pave', crashed through the broken treetops, and continued on his way.
Barry looked upon the huge trunk with amazement.
"Did a single shell break that tree off like that ?" he asked.
"You bet," was the reply, "and all these you see along here.

It's the great transport road for our front line, and the boches shell it regularly.

Here comes one now," he added, casually.
There was a soft woolly "whoof" far away, a high, thin whine, as from a vicious insect overhead, with every fractional second coming nearer and yet nearer, ever deepening in tone, ever increasing in volume, until, like an express train, with an overwhelming sense of speed and power, and with an appalling roar, it crashed upon them.