CHAPTER V
UNDER FIRE
Broken-hearted! Gee! We sure were--nearly; but not quite. No. This was bad;
there was worse to come, and still we kept our hearts whole.
But there was another trial now, and we were directed to rest billets in
what presumably had been a two-story schoolhouse or seminary. As soon as we
reached this shelter we flopped down on the hard bare floor and lay just as
we were, not even loosening our harness.
We were less than three miles from the front lines. Even at this short
distance Armentieres, as a whole, had not suffered greatly from shell fire,
though the upper floors of this old seminary had been shattered almost to
ruins long before our arrival.
The city itself was a good strategic point for the artillery. Behind
houses, stores, churches, anywhere that offered concealment, our guns were
hidden. Our artillery officers used every available inch of cover, for they
had to screen our guns from the observation of enemy aircraft which flew
with irritating irregularity over the town, and they had to avoid the none
too praiseworthy attention of spies, in which Armentieres was rich.
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