They would say, the men of his own profession. . . he remembered the half pitying things that he himself had said when Lockhart's new waterworks burst and broke down in brickheaps and sludge, and Lockhart's spirit broke in him and he died.
On Saturday afternoon our heavy shells were tearing at regular intervals into the rear of the brickheaps which once were houses, and flinging up branches of trees and great clouds of black earth from the woods. A German letter was found next day dated "In Hell's Trenches." It added: "It is not really a trench, but a little ditch, shattered with shells not the slightest cover and no protection.