The position was in a certain state of defence, which might have been improved. However, the streets were barricaded and a field of wire entanglements stretched across the bridge, which was also commanded by a mitrailleuse. Dinant lies in a well, one might say, on both banks of the Meuse. High limestone cliffs tower above the town. On the east bank these are steep, and are crowned by an ancient fort known as the citadel. The fort dominates the whole adjacent country. On the west bank of the Meuse the town scrambles up a hillside, covered with trees. When the engagement opened I joined Commandant A. and Lieutenant B., who were in charge of the detachment defending the bridge. At this time the Germans were making a strong effort to capture the citadel. It was held by a small French force, perhaps one company. The cliffs resounded with the rifle and gun fire. The din and the falling shells drove the population en masse to the "caves." Members of the Volunteer Hospital Corps, however, hurried along on their bicycles searching the streets for wounded. The German mountain batteries fired with accuracy, although the small projectiles had little effect. I picked up the fuse of one shell, a Dapp, cut at 4,000 mètres. About ten o'clock the Germans held the crest of the cliffs across the river, and soon took the citadel. They sent down a veritable hail of lead on the defenders. Behind the cover of the bridge abutments the French reply gallantly. Thus the fight goes on for an hour. One hears nothing save the irregular explosions of rifles, the machine-like sputterings of the mitrailleuse, punctuated by the shock of shell fire. It rains, but this in no way halts the firing. About thirty wounded are brought in when the French troops change position to the high ground back of the town. A sudden increase in the volume of sound tells me that the wished-for reinforcements have arrived. Soon a half-company of a regiment crowd into the hotel, expecting to find there a good field of fire. They bring with them a dozen frightened women who have been hiding in the station. About noon the firing slackens, and the rain ceases. A few limping figures in blue coats and red trousers stagger into the hotel. A doctor stationed here gives them first-aid attention. While the lull continues a woman crosses to the pillar-box and drops in a postcard.