We inspected one of these shelters. It had earthen walls and
a sod roof, fairly water-tight, and a green window shutter to rest
against the entrance for a windbreak. Six men slept here, and the wag
of the squad had taken chalk and lettered the words "Kaiserhof Cafe" on
the shutter.
The trenches were from seven to eight feet deep; but by climbing up into
the little scarps of the sharpshooters and resting our elbows in niches
in the earth, meantime keeping our heads down to escape the attentions
of certain Frenchmen who were reported to be in a wood half a mile away,
we could, with the aid of our glasses, make out the buildings in Rheims,
some of which were then on fire--particularly the great Cathedral.
Viewed from that distance it did not appear to be badly damaged. One of
the towers had apparently been shorn away and the roof of the nave was
burned--we could tell that. We were too far away of course to judge of
the injury to the carvings and to the great rose window.
Already during that week, from many sources, we had heard the Germans'
version of the shelling of Rheims Cathedral, their claim being that they
purposely spared the pile from the bombardment until they found the
defenders had signal men in the towers; that twice they sent officers,
under flags of truce, to urge the French to withdraw their signalers;
and only fired on the building when both these warnings had been
disregarded, ceasing to fire as soon as they had driven the enemy from
the towers.
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