There was a question to settle, and it was for Henri to do it. Two

questions indeed. One was a matter of engineering, and before the bottom

fell out of his world Henri had studied engineering. The second was

more serious.

For the first, this thing had happened. Of all the trenches to be held,

the Belgians had undeniably the worst. Properly speaking they were not

trenches at all, but shallow gutters dug a foot or two into the saturated

ground and then built man-high with bags of earth or sand. Here and

there they were not dug at all, but were purely shelters, against a

railway embankment, of planks or sandbags, and reinforced by rails from

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the deserted track behind which they were hidden.

For this corner of Belgium had been saved by turning it into a shallow

lake. By opening the gates in the dikes the Allies had let in the sea

and placed a flood in front of the advancing enemy. The battle front

was a reeking pond. The opposing armies lived like duck hunters in a

swamp. To dig a foot was to encounter water. Machine guns here and

there sat but six inches above the yellow flood. Men lay in pools to

fire them. To reach outposts were narrow paths built first of bags of

earth--a life, sometimes for every bag. And, when this filling was

sufficient, on top a path of fascines, bound together in bundles, made

a footway.

For this reason the Belgians approached their trenches not through deep

cuts which gave them shelter but with no other cover than the darkness

of night. During the day, they lay in their shallow dugouts, cut off

from any connection with the world behind them. Food, cooked miles away,

came up at night, cold and unappetizing. For water, having exhausted

their canteens, there was nothing but the brackish tide before them,

ill-smelling and reeking of fever. Water carts trundled forward at

night, but often they were far too few.

The Belgians, having faced their future through long years of anxiety,

had been trained to fight. In a way they had been trained to fight a

losing war, for they could not hope to defeat their greedy neighbor on

the east. But now they found themselves fighting almost not at all,

condemned to inactivity, to being almost passively slaughtered by enemy

artillery, and to living under such conditions as would have sapped the

courage of a less desperate people.

To add to the difficulties, not only did the sea encroach, turning a

fertile land into a salt marsh, but the winter rains, unusually heavy

that tragic first winter, and lacking their usual egress to the sea,

spread the flood. There were many places well back of the lines where

fields were flooded, and where roads, sadly needed, lost themselves in

unfordable wallows of mud and water.




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