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68 WITH THE GERMAN ARMIES IN THE WEST
the horses moving at a sharp trot or gallop. Even at the pace
at which they are now travelling these endless columns are an
impressive and attractive sight. What does it matter if the
helmets, in order not to glitter and attract attention, are
concealed by a cover which even hides the spike surmounting
them ; what does it matter if the mens’ uniforms are of the
same dirty grey as the clay and mud of the soil ? The whole
team looks picturesque enough with its massive, solid wagon,
its pole, its leather fittings and its harness.
Tramp, tramp go the horses’ hoofs, and behind them comes
the rattling of the heavy wagons. One rider sings, another
whistles and a third is shouting at a refractory horse. Behind
sit a couple of men rolling cigarettes, which by the way is
more difficult than it sounds when a wagon is jolting up and
down. This column also has a mounted escort. The train is
wound up by a field kitchen with a couple of store wagons on
which a few bundles of firewood are also lying. Without
ceasing, this eternal tramp, tramp, keeps dinning into our
ears as the columns slowly travel southward, a never-ending
stream of warriors, horses, ammunition and provisions.
" Germany must have inexhaustible supplies of everything,"
I remark to Major Matthiasz.
He smiles and replies :
" Here on the western front we must
have quite fifty roads such as this, all equally crowded with
men, horses and materials."
" It must cost a tidy bit of money."
" Yes, it is best not to think of it, but then it means every-
thing to us."
We have now reached the front of the great column. At
its head ride a couple of officers, the commander and his
adjutant. They salute us. We have hardly left them behind
before we drive past the tail-end of an infantry ammunition
column, the wagons of which are manned by three men and
drawn by four horses with only one driver, mounted on the
off leader.
By the side of the road are numberless great pits where
shells have struck. Here the fire has been heavy with a
vengeance. This fact is brought home to us still more as we
redescend to the Meuse at the point where the village of
Vilosnes received such a pounding, and where a permanent
bridge was blown up, only to be replaced in a twinkling by a
temporary structure by the German Engineers. The ground
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