Beneath the rows of poplar trees that stretched along the valley a huge army had taken cover, with its battalions, its animals and wagons, its iron and steel, its faded tarpaulins and leather trappings that stank, and its refuse heaps. Horses nibbled at the bark of large decaying trees, that were stricken with a premature autumnal disease. Three meagre elm trees served as a shelter for a whole encampment: a dusty hedge threw its protecting shadow over the ammunition train of a regiment. But the vegetation was scarce and the shelter it afforded most scanty, so that from all parts the army overflowed right on to the bare plain, tearing up the surface of the roads and leaving a regular network of tracks, as if great hordes of wild beasts had made their passage along it. There were roads that marked off the British from the French. There you could see marching by the splendid artillery of the British, quite new and glistening, fitted with light-coloured harness and nickel-plated buckles, with special rugs for the horses, that were well fed and gleaming like circus mounts. The infantry were also filing past--young men, all of them. They marched to the wild negro music of the flutes and gaily-coloured drums. Then cars fitted with beds, tier upon tier, came slowly along, jolting as little as possible, carrying the wounded fair-haired boys with wondering eyes, looking as placid as a touring party of Cook’s. Our villages were packed to suffocation. Man had got everywhere, like a plague or a flood. He had driven the cattle from their shelter and fixed his abode in hutches, stables and cowsheds. The shell depôts seemed like pottery fields full of earthenware pitchers. Barges floated on the slimy water of the canal. Some carried food and guns: others served as hospital-boats. From the movements of this heaving mass of beings and the creaking of their machinery, the panting of a giant seemed to issue forth and fill the silence. The whole scene suggested a sinister fair, a festival of war, a gathering of Bohemian clans and dancers of evil repute. The nearer you got to Bray the more congested the country appeared to be. The motor-riding population held tyrannic sway over the roads, forcing the lowlier horse-wagons to drive across the fields. Little trollies running on rails clanked along pompously, showing great independence, hugging the ground with their small wheels, and their back loaded with millions of cartridges: in amongst the boxes some fellows were squatting, half asleep, proclaiming to the world in general the pleasure of being seated on something which does all the walking for you.