Albert must have been a pleasant town in pre-war days, but now the people had deserted it and every building had either been shattered or damaged by shells.

From the spire of the Cathedral hung at right angles the beautiful bronze image of the Blessed Virgin, holding up her child above her head for the adoration of the world.

It seemed to me as if there was something appropriate in the strange position the statue now occupied, for, as the battalions marched past the church, it looked as if they were receiving a parting benediction from the Infant Saviour.
The character of the war had now completely changed.

For months and months, we seemed to have reached a deadlock.

Now we had broken through and were to push on and on into the enemy's territory.