“‘A brisk day,’ remarks the correspondent.  ‘Not so bad,’ replies the officer.  So the days pass.”

The Telegraph’s correspondent in Belgium, who, accompanied by a son of the Belgian War Minister, M. de Broqueville, made a tour of the battleground in the Dixmude district last Wednesday, says: 

“No pen could do justice to the grandeur and horror of the scene.  As far as the eye could reach nothing could be seen but burning villages and bursting shells.  I realized for the first time how completely the motor car had revolutionized warfare and how every other factor was now dominated by the absence or presence of this unique means of transport.

“Every road to the front was simply packed with cars.  They seemed an ever-rolling, endless stream, going and returning to the front, while in many villages hundreds of private cars were parked under the control of the medical officer, waiting in readiness to carry the wounded.

“Arrived at the firing line, a terrible scene presented itself.  The shell fire from the German batteries was so terrific that Belgian soldiers and French marines were continually being blown out of their dugouts and sent scattering to cover.  Elsewhere, also, little groups of peasants were forced to flee because their cellars began to fall in.  These unfortunates had to make their way as best they could on foot to the rear.  They were frightened to death by the bursting shells, and the sight of crying children among them was most pathetic.

“Dixmude was the objective of the German attack, and shells were bursting all over it, crashing among the roofs and blowing whole streets to pieces.  From a distance of three miles we could hear them crashing down, but the town itself was invisible, except for the flames and the smoke and clouds rising above it.  The Belgians had only a few field batteries, so that the enemy’s howitzers simply dominated the field, and the infantry trenches around the town had to rely upon their own unaided efforts.

“Our progress along the road was suddenly stopped by one of the most horrible sights I have ever seen.  A heavy howitzer shell had fallen and burst right in the midst of a Belgian battery, making its way to the front, causing terrible destruction.  The mangled horses and men among the debris presented a shocking spectacle.

“Eventually, we got into Dixmude itself, and every time a shell came crashing among the roofs we thought our end had come.  The Hotel de Ville (town hall) was a sad sight.  The roof was completely riddled by shell, while inside was a scene of chaos.  It was piled with loaves of bread, bicycles, and dead soldiers.

“The battle redoubled in fury, and by 7 o’clock in the evening Dixmude was a furnace, presenting a scene of terrible grandeur.  The horizon was red with burning homes.

“Our return journey was a melancholy one, owing to the constant trains of wounded that were passing.”