"Wait till you youngsters get up a bit," advised a companion who had
seen the front line often before. "You will see a part of France
that won't remind you of anything you have ever seen!"
In spite of that mention of the horrors that they all knew war had
brought in its train, it was hard to imagine them while swinging
along at a good pace through countryside that looked so quiet and
peaceful. The line of lorries slowed down for a level crossing,
where the road led across a spur of railway, and then halted, the
gate-keeper having blocked the highway to allow the passing of a still
distant and very slowly moving train. The gate-keeper was a buxom
and determined-looking French woman of well past middle age, who
turned a deaf ear to the entreaties of the occupants of the leading
car that the line of trucks should be allowed to scurry across
before the train passed.
As the boys sat waiting in the sudden quiet, Picky Mann said quietly:
"We are getting nearer. Listen to the guns.
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