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the flames envelop it, and this building

as well is burnt to the foundations and

Trescault laid level with the earth. Where

before was a flourishing village and a

peaceful people is now a heap of ruins.

Far indeed did the destructive fury of the

230th extend. The Russians themselves

have wrought no worse havoc than this,

and we can scarcely be looked upon as

soldiers. When we are up at the Front, it

is as if we were the greatest of criminals.

Thus it is that we do our work of destruction in France on the Somme.

"Picture to yourself how we live now-not

like men, but like beasts. Far and wide

there are no trenches, only bare fields

and stumps of trees growing where once

Man, the chosen of God, ploughed his

fields and worked for wife and child.

That is our retirement, and our part in it not as you will see it written-for these

are observations founded on experiences

of my own, experiences which I can never

forget. Well, enough of it. It is possible

that I shall not be able to write again

for a long while. You must forgive me,

and if God will that I come back safe, I

shall write at once. All the same, my

mind cannot dispel dark thoughts and

fears that I shall not return."

The giant trees along the highways

were felled and thrown across the roads.

Farm implements were collected in heaps

and burned, or essential parts were broken.

Wagons were sawed in half and the spokes

hacked out of the wheels. At one place

the Huns even broke into a sarcophagus

and scattered the bones..

"It is as terrible as anything on the

battlefield," wrote a Times correspondent,

"to see children who have been slowly

starving for a year wandering about amid

the ruins of their home. They are wan

little ghosts, with bluish faces and heavy lidded eyes.. ..There were so many such

children. I saw one frail woman load a