I went up there one night with an officer friend of mine, to see the scene of desolation.

We were halted by some of our cyclists who were patrolling the road.

Whenever they stopped me at night and asked who I was I always said, "German spy", and they would reply, "Pass, German spy, all's well." My friend and I went down the street of the broken and deserted village, which, from its position on the hill, was an easy mark for shell fire.

Not a living thing was stirring except a big black cat which ran across our path.

The moonlight made strange shadows in the roofless houses.