A few days after I had returned from the 15th Brigade I was sent
out to the 14th. I found them at the Estaminet de l'Epinette on
the Béthune-Richebourg road. Headquarters had been compelled to
shift, hastily enough, from the Estaminet de La Bombe on the La
Bassée-Estaires road. The estaminet had been shelled to destruction
half an hour after the brigade had moved. The Estaminet de l'Epinette
was filthy and small. I slept in a stinking barn, half-full of dirty
straw, and rose with the sun for the discomfort of it.
Opposite the estaminet a road goes to Festubert. At the corner there is
a cluster of dishevelled houses. I sat at the door and wrote letters,
and looked for what might come to pass. In the early dawn the poplars
alongside the highway were grey and dull. There was mist on the road;
the leaves that lay thick were black. Then as the sun rose higher the
poplars began to glisten and the mist rolled away, and the leaves were
red and brown.
An old woman came up the road and prayed the sentry to let her pass. He
could not understand her and called to me. She told me that her family
were in the house at the corner fifty yards distant. I replied that she
could not go to them--that they, if they were content not to return,
might come to her. But the family would not leave their chickens, and
cows, and corn. So the old woman, who was tired, sank down by the
wayside and wept. This sorrow was no sorrow to the sorrow of the war. I
left the old woman, the sentry, and the family, and went in to a fine
breakfast.
At this time there was much talk about spies. Our wires were often
cut mysteriously. A sergeant had been set upon in a lane. The enemy
were finding our guns with uncanny accuracy. All our movements seemed
to be anticipated by the enemy. Taking for granted the extraordinary
efficiency of the German Intelligence Corps, we were particularly
nervous about spies when the Division was worn out, when things were
not going well.