We had to go in the direction of Dixmude, then in German occupation, and
the mud at this point was too awful for words, while at intervals there
were huge shell holes full of water looking like small circular ponds.
Luckily for us they were never right in the middle of the road, but
always a little to one side or the other, and just left us enough _pavé_
to squeeze past on, which was really very thoughtful of the Boche!

The country looked indescribably desolate; but funnily enough there were
a lot of birds flying about, mostly in flocks. Two little partridges
quietly strutted across the road and seemed quite unperturbed!

Further on we came across a dead horse, the first of many. It had been
hit in the flank by a shell. It was a sad sight; the poor creature was
just left lying by the side of the road, and I shall never forget it.
The crows had already taken out its eyes. I must say that that sight
affected me much more than the men I had seen earlier in the day. There
was no one then to bury horses.

We came to the little _poste de secours_ and the officer told us they
had been heavily shelled that morning and he sent out an orderly to dig
up some of the fuse-tops that had fallen in the field beyond. He gave us
as souvenirs three lovely shell heads that had fused at the wrong time.
Everything seemed strangely unreal, and I wondered at times if I was
awake. He was delighted with the Hospital stores we had brought and
showed us his small dressing station, from which all the wounded had
been removed after the bombardment was over. We then went on to another
at Caeskerke within sight of Dixmude, the ruins of which could plainly
be seen. I found it hard to realize that this was really the much talked
of "front." One half expected to see rows and rows of regiments instead
of everything being hidden away. Except for the extreme desolation and