Every inch of that ground had been fought over and bought with the price of human blood.
The moan of the wind over the fields seemed like the great lament of Nature for her sons who had gone.

It was impossible to identify the bodies we found, but we knew that burial parties would soon set to work to collect them.

Over each poor brown and muddy form I held a short service and used the form of committal from the burial office in our prayer-book.
It was with a sense of relief that we walked back up the road, past the ruins of Courcelette, and rejoined the motor.

The scene was too painful, and made too great a pull upon the heart-strings.

In the great army of the slain that lay beneath that waste of mud were many whom we had known and loved with that peculiar love which binds comrades in the fighting line to one another-- "God rest you valiant Gentlemen (p.