DIY History | Transcribe | World War I Diaries and Letters | Conger Reynolds correspondence, March 16-31, 1918 | 1918-03-23 Conger Reynolds to Daphne Reynolds Page 4

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Conger Reynolds correspondence, March 16-31, 1918

1918-03-23 Conger Reynolds to Daphne Reynolds Page 4

4
There was practically no activity where we were, but a few miles away the guns were pounding so hard that the noise of them was a prolonged, constant roar in which individual explosions could hardly be made out.  We had begun hearing it thirty miles away and we heard it continuously until we were out of earshot.
On a wooded hill close to our front line I found some flowers blooming beside an old shell hole.  From that spot I could see very plainly the road along which the German front line runs and I could make out, almost, the separate stones of a destroyed village within the German lines.  It is a desolate looking wreck.  In peace I suppose it was quiet and quaint, a picturesque mass of white stone and red-tile roofs with the blue smoke curling in lazy columns above it.  It is quiet now with the stillness of death.  Not a roof remains.  There are only jagged walls and heaps of broken stone and mortar.  The Boches were there, we knew, but

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4 There was practically no activity where we were, but a few miles away the guns were pounding so hard that the noise of them was a prolonged, constant roar in which individual explosions could hardly be made out. We had begun hearing it thirty miles away and we heard it continuously until we were out of earshot. On a wooded hill close to our front line I found some flowers blooming beside an old shell hole. From that spot I could see very plainly the road along which the German front line runs and I could make out, almost, the separate stones of a destroyed village within the German lines. It is a desolate looking wreck. In peace I suppose it was quiet and quaint, a picturesque mass of white stone and red-tile roofs with the blue smoke curling in lazy columns above it. It is quiet now with the stillness of death. Not a roof remains. There are only jagged walls and heaps of broken stone and mortar. The Boches were there, we knew, but