This was part of the
preparation for the big battle which I was told was going to begin
tomorrow.
In the town itself the transformation was still more amazing--soldiers
in every street, cavalry, infantry, dragoons, lancers, and engineers in
ones and twos, and parties of twenty or thirty picturesque Moroccans. I
never saw such a medley of colors and expressions, and the whole town
was full of them--material for one army corps at least.
I installed myself in quarters at the Hotel de l'Univers, with the
intention of getting away the first thing in the morning if possible.
But it was not possible. I was informed that Arras was now under
military control, and no permits were being issued whatsoever. The
Lieutenant who told me this smiled as I shrugged my shoulders.
"You will bear witness, Monsieur, that I tried my best to get out," said
I.
"Certainly; but why go away?" he asked with a smile. "Arras est tres
belle ville, Monsieur. You have a good hotel, a good bed, and good food.
Why should you go out?"
And so I stayed at Arras.
That was Sept. 30. The next day I could hear guns. They started at about
8 o'clock in the morning, the French guns being in position about five
kilometers outside of Arras to the south, southeast, and east, sixteen
batteries of France's artillery or 75-millimeter calibre.
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