Had the Germans assembled all their strength for one supreme attempt at
breaking through the Western Front? Or was it only the beginning of a
whole series of operations?

One morning, as we woke up, we heard the roar and rumble of a
bombardment. We did not take much notice of it, for we had heard the
sound so often.

We paraded, and marched off to work. The continuous roar gradually gave
place to irregular, though frequent, outbursts of firing along the
entire front.

The next day the sound seemed to have come nearer. Rumours began to
circulate--it was said that Armentières had fallen, that the Portuguese
had been annihilated at Merville, that the British had counter-attacked
and taken Lille.

Rations, newspapers and letters were delayed. Large bodies of troops
passed through the village. We got no definite or official news, and
nobody had any clear notion of what was happening.

But the sound of firing grew louder and louder and our anxiety deepened.
There could no longer be any doubt about it--the Germans were advancing
on our front.

The sickening certainty transcended all other considerations. A few
miles from us thousands were being slaughtered. I ceased to ponder the
problems of failure and success. I forgot the politicians and was
conscious of only one despairing wish, that the terrible thing might
come to an end. Victory and defeat seemed irrelevant considerations. If