white earth of the country had been firmly packed
over its roof.
We went down a flight of steps into a corridor, half subterranean, lined with concrete, from which four doors opened into four long, narrow cells roofed with steel arches, painted white. This, we were told, was the headquarters of that sector. The room to the right was occupied by telephone operators. Next was the commandant's apartment, furnished with a cot bed, a bureau, a washhand-stand, and a chair or two. Touches as homely as the garden were photographs of a woman and two children. Even in these lifeless pictures the faces seemed watchful, apprehensive.
The room next door, occupied by the majors, was much the same, but in the cell at the end of the passage there was a variation. No one had to tell us for what purpose this shelter was used. The sickly ether odour welcomed us. A crucifix was suspended above a bed improvised from three stained, mattresses piled one atop the other. А brown blanket covered it. It, too, was stained with black, wide splotches.
"Poste de Secours," the officer said. "A first aid post, directly at the front, yet thoroughly protected."
The light entered reluctantly. The melancholy of the crucifix oppressed us. As we climbed to
