General Porter there, and chatted to
him for a minute.
On the way back we stopped at Mt. Rouge and saw the German lines.
It was a beautiful clear day with a tang in the air like late
September.
From our little observation point on the top of Mt. Rouge we could see
for miles on all sides. Over in front lay Mt. Kemmel, bristling with
guns but not one visible with the field glasses. Beneath us and
between us and Kemmel, on the road that runs from Bailleul to Ypres,
nestled the little village of Locre, with its white walled cottages
and red tiled roofs.
To the left of Kemmel the sun made prominent the ruins of
Wytschaete--a village in the German lines. Just beneath Wytschaete one
could see the German trenches, two lines of them, which showed like
brick red seams in the earth and ran up over and along the crest of
the Wytschaete ridge, which itself ran towards St. Eloi and Ypres.
Between these German trenches and our own was a sandy waste--no man's
land--scarred and churned by untold numbers of shells. Even the forest
patches in this region were dead and slivered by rifle and shell.
To the left of Wytschaete one could see great bursts of brown, black,
greenish and white smoke over a width of country perhaps 1/4 of a mile
and a length of 2 miles. It was here that the 3rd and 1st Canadian
Divisions were fighting with the Huns for mastery.
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