Social problems -- Fiction; War stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
He came to a turn in the road which he knew was less than half a
mile from his home; and here there were several horses and wagons
tied, but no one to answer his calls. The road passed through a
wood; but apparently there was no road any more--the trees had been
picked up bodily and thrown across it. Jimmie had to grope this way
and that, and he ran a piece of broken branch into his cheek, and by
that time was almost ready to cry with fright. He knew that his home
was two miles from the explosives plant, and he could not conceive
how an explosion could have done such damage at such a distance.
He saw a lantern ahead, bobbing this way and that, and he shouted
louder than ever, and finally succeeded in persuading the bearer of
the lantern to wait for him. It proved to be a farmer who lived some
way back; he knew no more than Jimmie did, and they made their way
together. Beyond the woods, the road was littered with loose dirt,
bushes, bits of fence and rubbish, burned black. “It must have been
near here,” declared the man, and added words which caused Jimmie's
heart almost to stand still. “It must have been on the railroad
track!”
They came to a little rise, from which in day-time the line of the
railroad was visible. They saw lanterns, many of them, moving here
and there like a swarm of fire-flies. “Come this way,” Jimmie begged
of the farmer, and ran towards his home. The road was buried under
masses of earth, as if thousands of steam-shovels had emptied their
contents on it. When they came to where the fence of Jimmie's house
ought to have been, they found no fence, but a slide of loose earth
that had never been there before. Where the apple-tree had been
there was nothing; where the lawn had been there was a pitch down a
hill, and where the house had been was a huge valley, seeming in the
darkness a bottomless abyss!
VI
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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