He advanced through a vast burrow. Trenches ran parallel, and other
trenches cut across them. One could wander through them for miles. Most
of them were uncovered, but others had roofs, partial or complete, of
thatch or boards or canvas. Many had little alcoves and shelves, dug out
by the patient hands of the soldiers, and these niches contained their
most precious belongings.
Back of the trenches often lay great heaps of refuse like the kitchen
middens of primeval man. Attempts at coziness had achieved a little
success in some places, but nearly everywhere the abode of burrowing
soldiers was raw, rank and fetid. Heavy and hideous odors arose from the
four hundred miles of unwashed armies. Men lived amid disease, dirt and
death. Civilization built up slowly through painful centuries had come
to a sudden stop, and once more they were savages in caves seeking to
destroy one another.
This, at least, was the external aspect of it, but the flower of
civilization was still sound at the stem. When the storm was over it
would grow and bloom again amid the wreckage. French and Germans, in the
intervals of battle, were often friendly with each other. They listened
to the songs of the foe, and sometimes at night they talked together.
John recognized the feeling. He knew that man at the core had not really
returned to a savage state, and a soldier, but not a believer in war, he
looked forward to the time when the grass should grow again over the
vast maze of trenches.
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