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A railroad track emerged from the fields and ran along the one street.
Shells had fallen on it and exploded, ripping the steel rails from the
cross-ties, so that they stood up all along in a jagged formation, like
rows of snaggled teeth. Other shells, dropping in the road, had so
wrought with the stone blocks that they were piled here in heaps, and
there were depressed into caverns and crevasses four or five or six feet
deep.
Every house in sight had been hit again and again and again. One house
would have its whole front blown in, so that we could look right back to
the rear walls and see the pans on the kitchen shelves. Another house
would lack a roof to it, and the tidy tiles that had made the roof were
now red and yellow rubbish, piled like broken shards outside a potter's
door. The doors stood open, and the windows, with the windowpanes all
gone and in some instances the sashes as well, leered emptily, like
eye-sockets without eyes.
So it went. Two of the houses had caught fire and the interiors were
quite burned away.


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