I sat in a quiet place by a ruined brick wall and tried to disentangle the curious sensations which passed through the mind, as I felt the breeze lightly fanning my face, smelt the scent of flowers, heard the skylarks singing, saw the broken houses and conservatories, and listened to the shells which every now and then fell on the road to the east of the village.

That super-sensitiveness to the charms of nature, which I have mentioned before, thrilled me with delight.

The warm spring sun beat down from a cloudless sky, and the glorious romance of being out in the war-zone added to the charm.
One of our ambulances had a dressing station in the cellars of the Chateau, and there were a number of German prisoners there who were waiting their turn as stretcher bearers.

From Willerval I went to the dressing station in the sunken road, where one of our chaplains was hard at work rendering assistance to the wounded.

We had taken Arleux, but of course had to pay the price, and over the fields in different directions one could see stretchers being carried, bearing their loads of broken and suffering bodies.