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[Page 53]
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like a fleet of aeroplanes the noise from their bombs and our own guns was so deafening that I thought my ear-drums would break. I, that evening did telephone duty while my deputy took charge of the cellar. That order was always observed and was rather a coveted post, for it was much more interesting if rather dangerous, to be able to see something of what was going on. The next day (Sunday) we found that our worst fears had been realised, and dreadful havoc wrought. The old town which was surrounded by Ramparts, and where Napoleon once had a chateau. It suffered badly and among others, the home of a French Military Official was raised to the ground. With a friend I visited the ruins, and then many of the bodies had not been recovered. We were being escorted where barriers prevented the public, when there came another alarm, and immediately we were taken in charge by a Gendarme and hurried into a French cellar. I vainly asked to be allowed to return to my unit. Only quarter of an hour's walk, but the "law" was obdurate, and I had to take shelter with the rest. It seemed stranger in broad daylight, with the sun shining to hide oneself away, and there was such a medley of people - French civillians excitedly, and shrilly talking Officers, and men crouching in every corner. I was very glad that our detention did not last long, and it was the greatest relief to get into the open air. It seemed to be a false alarm as far as we were concerned, but it meant a sad visitation to poor old London.