Round about, over all this ground below Notre Dame de Lorette and the fields round Souchez, the French had fought ferociously, burrowing below earth at the Labyrinth⁠—sapping, mining, gaining a network of trenches, an isolated house, a huddle of ruins, a German saphead, by frequent rushes and the frenzy of those who fight with their teeth and hands, flinging themselves on the bodies of their enemy, below ground in the darkness, or above ground between ditches and sandbags. So for something like fifteen months they fought, by Souchez and the Labyrinth, until in February of ’16 they went away after greeting our khaki men who came into their old places and found the bones and bodies of Frenchmen there, as I found, white, rat-gnawed bones, in disused trenches below Notre Dame when the rain washed the earth down and uncovered them.