Both banks of the river were wrapped in smoke; from the shells villages miles away were in flames, and two hundred yards in front of us the howitzer shells were bursting in black fumes.

To this the French soldiers were completely indifferent.

The hills they occupied had been held that morning by the Germans, and the trenches and fields were strewn with their accoutrement.

So all the French soldiers who were not serving the guns wandered about seeking souvenirs.

They had never a glance for the villages burning crimson in the bright sunight or for the falling "Jack Johnsons." They were intent only on finding a spiked helmet, and when they came upon one they would give a shout of triumph and hold it up for their comrades to see.