The officer was very grateful to us, but the bodies were probably never buried because that part of the city was soon a ruin.

We went on down the road towards Vlamertinghe, past the big asylum, so long known as a dressing station, with its wonderful and commodious cellars.

It had been hit and the upstairs part was no longer used.
The people along the road were leaving their homes as fast as they could.

One little procession will always stand out in my mind.

In front one small boy of about six years old was pulling a toy cart in which two younger children were packed.