TWO:Whilst yet the sweet strains of the music sounded over the dunes, the dull booming of the heavy field-artillery was heard constantly, and each boom meant the end of so many more human lives. The music went on, and the officers approached one after the other to throw a handful of sand on the corpses of their fallen comrades. I saw their nostrils tremble, saw them bite their lips nervously, saw tears in their eyes.As we crossed the bridge, I asked my escort why these houses were set on fire. I heard then, for the first time, that "they had been shooting," and they told me of cowardly civilians, who shot from the windows at unsuspicious soldiers, or24 stabbed them treacherously. But of course they had experienced nothing of the kind; it had happened to troops who were now moving ahead. They had, however, taken part in the revenge, and told of it with glittering eyes: how they fired the houses of francs-tireurs and then shot the people who, nearly stifled, appeared at the windows; how in "holy" anger, in order to avenge their comrades, they subsequently entered the houses and destroyed everything. I did not answer, did not know what to think of it, but shuddered, because it was so gruesome.
