peace amid the universal movement. And always, on the southern horizon,
those clear lines of British trenches, whence sprang on July 1st, 1916,
the irresistible attack on Montauban and Mametz. Suddenly, over the
desolate ground to the west, we see a man hovering in mid-air,
descending on a parachute from a captive balloon that seems to have
suffered mishap. The small wavering object comes slowly down; we cannot
see the landing; but it is probably a safe one.

Then we are on the main Albert road again, and after some rapid miles I
find myself kindly welcomed by one of the most famous leaders of the
war. There, in a small room, which has surely seen work of the first
importance to our victories on the Somme, a great General discusses the
situation and the future with that same sober and reasoned confidence I
have found everywhere among the representatives of our Higher Command.
"Are we approaching victory? Yes; but it is too soon to use the great
word itself. Everything is going well; but the enemy is still very
strong. This year will decide it; but may not end it."

* * * * *

So far my recollections of March 3rd. But this is now April 26th, and
all the time that I have been writing these recollections, thought has
been leaping forward to the actual present--to the huge struggle now
pending between Arras and Rheims--to the news that comes crowding in,
day by day, of the American preparations in aid of the Allies--to all
that is at stake for us and for you. Your eyes are now turned like ours
to the battle-line in France. You triumph--and you suffer--with us!