It is hard to recapture the spirit of that day we entered Lille. Other things since have blurred its fine images. At the time I tried to put down in words the picture of that scene when, after four years’ slaughter of men, the city, which had seemed a world away, was open to us a few miles beyond the trench-lines; the riven trees, the shell-holes, and the stench of death, and we walked across the canal, over a broken bridge, into that large town where--how wonderful it seemed I--there were roofs on the houses and glass in the windows, and crowds of civilian people waiting for the first glimpse of British khaki.…
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