ers standing singly； looking strangely lonesome amid the torn…up earth and shattered trees。 But even these had ceased。 Death itself seemed to have been frightened away from this terror… haunted desert。
Looking down； she could see thin wreaths of smoke； rising from the ground。 From underneath her feet there came a low； faint； ceaseless murmur。
〃Quick；〃 said the doctor。 He pushed her in front of him； and she almost fell down a flight of mud…covered steps that led into the earth。 She found herself in a long； low gallery； lighted by a dim oil lamp； suspended from the blackened roof。 A shelf ran along one side of it； covered with straw。 Three men lay there。 The straw was soaked with their blood。 They had been brought in the night before by the stretcher…bearers。 A young surgeon was rearranging their splints and bandages； and redressing their wounds。 They would lie there for another hour or so； and then start for their twenty kilometre drive over shell…ridden roads to one or another of the great hospitals at the base。 While she was there； two more cases were brought in。 The doctor gave but a glance at the first one and then made a sign； and the bearers passed on with him to the further end of the gallery。 He seemed to understand； for he gave a low； despairing cry and the tears sprang to his eyes。 He was but a boy。 The other had a foot torn off。 One of the orderlies gave him two round pieces of wood to hold in his hands while the young surgeon cut away the hanging flesh and bound up the stump。
The doctor had been whispering to one of the bearers。 He had the face of an old man； but his shoulders were broad and he looked sturdy。 He nodded； and beckoned Joan to follow him up the slippery steps。
〃It is breakfast time；〃 he explained； as they emerged into the air。 〃We leave each other alone for half an houreven the snipers。 But we must be careful。〃 She followed in his footsteps； stooping so low that her hands could have touched the ground。 They had to be sure that they did not step off the narrow track marked with white stones； lest they should be drowned in the mud。 They passed the head of a dead horse。 It looked as if it had been cut off and laid there； the body was below it in the mud。
They spoke in whispers； and Joan at first had made an effort to disguise her voice。 But her conductor had smiled。 〃They shall be called the brothers and the sisters of the Lord；〃 he had said。 〃Mademoiselle is brave for her Brothers' sake。〃 He was a priest。 There were many priests among the stretcher…bearers。
Crouching close to the ground； behind the spreading roots of a giant oak； she raised her eyes。 Before her lay a sea of smooth； soft mud nearly a mile wide。 From the centre rose a solitary tree； from which all had been shot away but two bare branches like outstretched arms above the silence。 Beyond； the hills rose again。 There was something unearthly in the silence that seemed to brood above that sea of mud。 The old priest told her of the living men； French and German； who had stood there day and night sunk in it up to their waists； screaming hour after hour； and waving their arms； sinking into it lower and lower； none able to help them： until at last only their screaming heads were left； and after a time these； too； would disappear： and the silence come again。
She saw the ditches； like long graves dug for the living； where the weary； listless men stood knee…deep in mud； hoping for wounds that would relieve them from the ghastly monotony of their existence； the holes of muddy water where the dead things lay； to which they crept out in the night to wash a little of the filth from their clammy bodies and their stinking clothes； the holes dug out of the mud in which they ate and slept and lived year after year： till brain and heart and soul seemed to have died out of them； and they remembered with an effort that they once were men。
After a time； the care of the convalescents passed almost entirely into Joan's hands； Madame Lelanne being told off to assist her。 By dint of much persistence she had succeeded in getting the leaky roof repaired； and in place of the smoky stove that had long been her despair she had one night procured a fine calorifere by the simple process of stealing it。 Madame Lelanne had heard about it from the gossips。 It had been brought to a lonely house at the end of the village by a major of engineers。 He had returned to the trenches the day before； and the place for the time being was empty。 The thieves were never discovered。 The sentry was positive that no one had passed him but two women； one of them carrying a baby。 Madame Lelanne had dressed it up in a child's cloak and hood； and had carried it in her arms。 As it must have weighed nearly a couple of hundredweight suspicion had not attached to them。
Space did not allow of any separation； broken Frenchmen and broken Germans would often lie side by side。 Joan would wonder； with a grim smile to herself； what the patriotic Press of the different countries would have thought had they been there to have overheard the conversations。 Neither France nor Germany appeared to be the enemy； but a thing called 〃They；〃 a mysterious power that worked its will upon them both from a place they always spoke of as 〃Back there。〃 One day the talk fell on courage。 A young French soldier was holding forth when Joan entered the hut。
〃It makes me laugh；〃 he was saying； 〃all this newspaper talk。 Every nation； properly led； fights bravely。 It is the male instinct。 Women go into hysterics about it； because it has not been given them。 I have the Croix de Guerre with all three leaves； and I haven't half the courage of my dog； who weighs twelve kilos； and would face a regiment by himself。 Why； a game cock has got more than the best of us。 It's the man who doesn't think； who can't think； who has the most couragewho imagines nothing； but just goes forward with his head down； like a bull。 There is； of course； a real courage。 When you are by yourself； and have to do something in cold blood。 But the courage required for rushing forward； shouting and yelling with a lot of other fellowswhy； it would take a hundred times more pluck to turn back。〃
〃They know that；〃 chimed in the man lying next to him； 〃or they would not drug us。 Why； when we stormed La Haye I knew nothing until an ugly…looking German spat a pint of blood into my face and woke me up。〃
A middle…aged sergeant； who had a wound in the stomach and was sitting up in his bed； looked across。 〃There was a line of Germans came upon us；〃 he said； 〃at Bras。 I thought I must be suffering from a nightmare when I saw them。 They had thrown away their rifles and had all joined hands。 They came dancing towards us just like a row of ballet girls。 They were shrieking and laughing； and they never attempted to do anything。 We just waited until they were close up and then shot them down。 It was like killing a lot of kids who had come to have a game with us。 The one I potted got his arms round me before he coughed himself out； calling me his 'liebe Elsa；' and wanting to kiss me。 Lord！ You can guess how the Boche ink…slingers spread themselves over that business： 'Sonderbar！ Colossal！ Unvergessliche Helden。' Poor devils！〃
〃They'll give us ginger before it is over；〃 said another。 He had had both his lips torn away； and appeared to be always laughing。 〃Stuff it into us as if we were horses at a fair。 That will make us run forward； right enough。〃
〃Oh； come；〃 struck in a youngster who was lying perfectly flat； face downwards on his bed： it was the position in which he could breathe easiest。 He raised his head a couple of inches and twisted it round so as to get his mouth free。 〃It isn't as bad as all that。 Why； the Thirty…third swarmed into Fort Malmaison of their own accord； though 'twas like jumping into a boiling furnace； and held it for three days against pretty nearly a division。 There weren't a dozen of them left when we relieved them。 They had no ammunition left。 They'd just been filling up the gaps with their bodies。 And they wouldn't go back even then。 We had to drag them away。 'They shan't pass；' 'They shan't pass！'that's all they kept saying。〃 His voice had sunk to a thin whisper。
A young officer was lying in a corner behind a screen。 He leant forward and pushed it aside。
〃Oh； give the devil his due； you fellows；〃 he said。 〃War isn't a pretty game； but it does make for courage。 We all know that。 And things even finer than mere fighting pluck。 There was a man in my company； a Jacques Decrusy。 He was just a stupid peasant lad。 We were crowded into one end of the trench； about a score of us。 The rest of it had fallen in； and we couldn't move。 And a bomb dropped into the middle of us； and the same instant that it touched the ground Decrusy threw himself flat down upon it and took the whole of it into his body。 There was nothing left of him but scraps。 But the rest of us got off。 Nobody had drugged him to do that。 There isn't one of us who was in that trench that will not be a better man to the end of his days； remembering how Jacques Decrusy gave his life for ours。〃
〃I'll grant you all that； sir；〃 answered the young soldier who had first spoken。 He had long； delicate hands and eager； restless eyes。 〃War does bring out heroism。 So does pestilence and famine。 Read Defoe's account of the Plague of London。 How men and women left their safe homes； to serve in the pest…houses； knowing that sooner or later they were doomed。 Read of the mothers in India who die of slow starvation； never allowing a morsel of food to pass their lips so that they may save up their own small daily portion to add it to their children's。 Why don't we pray to God not to withhold from us His precious medicine of pestilence and famine？ So is shipwreck a fine school for courage。 Look at the chance it gives the captain to set a fine example。 And the engineers who stick to their post with the water pouring in upon them。 We don't reconcile ourselves to shipwrecks as a necessary school for sailors。 We do our best to lessen them。 So did persecution bring out heroism。 It made saints and martyrs。 Why have we done away with it？ If this game of killing and being killed is the fine