cold and dirt; pain, and the intense loneliness of men left behind by
armies, with much to think of; no hope, and a day or two to live. But
we understand that glory covers that.

There is yet a third side.

I came to Albert when the fight was far from it: only at night you
saw any signs of war, when clouds flashed now and then and curious
rockets peered. Albert robbed of peace was deserted even by war.

I will not say that Albert was devastated or desolate, for these long
words have different interpretations and may easily be exaggerated. A
German agent might say to you, "Devastated is rather a strong word,
and desolate is a matter of opinion." And so you might never know
what Albert is like.

I will tell you what I saw.

Albert was a large town. I will not write of all of it.

I sat down near a railway bridge at the edge of the town; I think I
was near the station; and small houses had stood there with little
gardens; such as porters and other railway folk would have lived in.
I sat down on the railway and looked at one of these houses, for it
had clearly been a house. It was at the back of it that most
remained, in what must have been a garden. A girder torn up like a
pack of cards lay on the leg of a table amongst a brick wall by an
apple-tree.

Lower down in the heap was the frame-work of a large four-poster bed;