The war was ended, peace had been signed, and the great force of brother knights had been dispersed.

Little crosses by the highways and byways of France and Belgium now marked the resting-place of thousands of those whose eager hearts took flame among these autumn hills.

As I motored past the deserted camp after sunset, my heart thrilled with strange memories and the sense of an abiding presence of something weird and ghostly.

Here were the old roads, there were the vacant hutments.

Here were the worn paths across the fields where the men had gone.