ns have fallen or been captured in these trenches,
according to the French official count, since the second week of
March. The French losses, the correspondent was confidentially
informed, while serious, have been much smaller than those of the
Germans. There are thickets of little crosses made of twigs tied
together, marking the graves between the trenches. Some of these
graves have been torn up by the shell fire.

Almost every square yard of this region is marked by miniature craters
caused by exploding shells. Spots where shells penetrated the earth
without exploding are indicated by signs bearing the words "Live
Shell."

One line of the German works was just below the summit of a steep
slope which, from the nature of the ground, could not be shelled
without danger to the French position a little higher up. The Germans
were sheltered in dugouts under the hillside, and their French
assailants, sliding or jumping down into the trenches, were shot or
bayoneted from caves. The line was finally taken by tossing grenades
by the basketful into the trenches until most of the defenders in the
concaved shelters were killed or wounded. Every curve or angle in the
miles of labyrinthine cuttings has its story of tragedy and heroism.

In the party which went over this ground and into the firing trenches
within calling distance of the German lines with The Associated Press
correspondent were Owen Johnson, Arnold Bennett, Walter Hale and
George H. Mair, the last representing the British Foreign Office. As
they approached the lines one shell from a four-inch gun burst within
twenty-five yards of them, while others exploded only thirty or forty
yards away. This incident seemed greatly to amuse the soldiers in the
trenches, who laughed heartily at the embarrassment of the civilians.

The visitors were invited by the soldiers into their shelters, which
are dry caves with narrow entrances and with clay floors covered with
matting or sacking and faintly illuminated by the light which filters
in from the entrance or by bits of candle on the inside. Men who had
been on duty throughout the night were sleeping in these caves.

The men on the firing line express the utmost confidence that what was
done yesterday and this morning they can keep on doing until the war
has been won. They never hear the vague, unverified reports circulated
in Paris, sometimes of tremendous and impossible victories, sometimes
sinister hints of disaster. They kn