the shattered walls or into burrows beneath the earth.
The commander of that sector stood in the middle of the street with a number of his officers. He glanced at the picture which must have become too familiar to him.
"There was hand to hand fighting in each of these houses," he said, “but it was worth it, for it brought one more village back to France."
He pointed to the devastation. He sighed.
"The last village."
And how," an officer asked, "would they like villages like this in America? Is it possible there is a country which isn't full of villages like this? In such a country they can't understand. They can't understand."
The clouds grew a little thicker. The light faded. It seemed as if the whole world must be like this. These men appeared to know in the past or the future no mode of life beyond this. Stern-faced, physically contented, unafraid, they had an air of guaranteeing the redemption of those familiar fields ahead which reluctantly sheltered the invader beneath a sullen sky.
The officer was right. Even now it is hard to understand such things in America.
