Man had made war for ages, but never before on so huge a scale.
"Well, Sister Anna, otherwise John Scott, make your report," said Carstairs lightly.

"What do you see ?" "Only a veil of snow so thick that my eyes can't penetrate it." "And that's all you will see.

Papa Vaugirard is a good man and he cares for his many children, but he's making a mistake tonight." "I think not," said John, dropping suddenly back into the trench.

A blinding white glare, cutting through the gloom of the snow, had dazzled him for a moment.
"The searchlight again!" exclaimed Wharton.
"And it means something," said John.
The blaze, whiter and more intense than usual, played for a few minutes over the French trenches, sweeping to right and left and back again and then dying away at a far distant point.

After it came the same white gloom and deep silence.
"Just a way of greeting," said Carstairs.
"I think not," said John.