The Old Front Line | Page 3

river, which is a swift, clear, chalk stream, sometimes too deep
and swift to ford, cuts the English sector of the battlefield into two
nearly equal portions.
Following the first of the four roads, one passes the wooded village of
Martinsart, to the village of Auchonvillers, which lies among a clump
of trees upon a ridge or plateau top. The road dips here, but soon rises
again, and so, by a flat tableland, to the large village of Hébuterne.
Most of this road, with the exception of one little stretch near
Auchonvillers, is hidden by high ground from every part of the
battlefield. Men moving upon it cannot see the field.
Hébuterne, although close to the line and shelled daily and nightly for
more than two years, was never the object of an attack in force, so that
much of it remains. Many of its walls and parts of some of its roofs still
stand, the church tower is in fair order, and no one walking in the
streets can doubt that he is in a village. Before the war it was a
prosperous village; then, for more than two years, it rang with the roar
of battle and with the business of an army. Presently the tide of the war
ebbed away from it and left it deserted, so that one may walk in it now,
from end to end, without seeing a human being. It is as though the
place had been smitten by the plague. Villages during the Black Death
must have looked thus. One walks in the village expecting at every turn
to meet a survivor, but there is none; the village is dead; the grass is
growing in the street; the bells are silent; the beasts are gone from the
byre and the ghosts from the church. Stealing about among the ruins
and the gardens are the cats of the village, who have eaten too much
man to fear him, but are now too wild to come to him. They creep
about and eye him from cover and look like evil spirits.
The second of the four roads passes out of Albert, crosses the railway at

a sharp turn, over a bridge called Marmont Bridge, and runs northward
along the valley of the Ancre within sight of the railway. Just beyond
the Marmont Bridge there is a sort of lake or reservoir or catchment of
the Ancre overflows, a little to the right of the road. By looking across
this lake as he walks northward, the traveller can see some rolls of
gentle chalk hill, just beyond which the English front line ran at the
beginning of the battle.
A little further on, at the top of a rise, the road passes the village of
Aveluy, where there is a bridge or causeway over the Ancre valley.
Aveluy itself, being within a mile and a half of enemy gun positions for
nearly two years of war, is knocked about, and rather roofless and
windowless. A cross-road leading to the causeway across the valley
once gave the place some little importance.
[Illustration: The Road up the Ancre Valley through Aveluy Wood]
Not far to the north of Aveluy, the road runs for more than a mile
through the Wood of Aveluy, which is a well-grown plantation of trees
and shrubs. This wood hides the marsh of the river from the traveller.
Tracks from the road lead down to the marsh and across it by military
causeways.
On emerging from the wood, the road runs within hail of the railway,
under a steep and high chalk bank partly copsed with scrub.
Three-quarters of a mile from the wood it passes through the skeleton
of the village of Hamel, which is now a few ruined walls of brick
standing in orchards on a hillside. Just north of this village, crossing the
road, the railway, and the river-valley, is the old English front line.
The third of the four roads is one of the main roads of France. It is the
state highway, laid on the line of a Roman road, from Albert to
Bapaume. It is by far the most used and the most important of the roads
crossing the battlefield. As it leads directly to Bapaume, which was one
of the prizes of the victory, and points like a sword through the heart of
the enemy positions it will stay in the memories of our soldiers as the
main avenue of the battle.

The road leaves Albert in a street of dingy and rather broken red-brick
houses. After passing a corner crucifix it shakes itself free of the houses
and rises slowly up a ridge of chalk hill about three hundred feet high.
On the left of the road, this ridge, which is much withered and trodden
by troops