Outside in the graveyard the graves lay open and the bones of the dead
were scattered broadcast over the green grass. Crosses were smashed or
wrenched out of the ground and flung to earth; near the Keep was the
soldiers' cemetery, the resting place of French, English, Indian, and
German soldiers. Many of the French had bottles of holy water placed
on their graves under the crosses. The English epitaphs were short and
concise, always the same in manner: "Private 999 J. Smith, 26th London
Battalion, killed in action 1st March, 1915." And under it stamped on
a bronze plate was the information, "Erected by the Mobile Unit
(B.R.C.S.) to preserve the record found on the spot." Often the dead
man's regiment left a token of remembrance, a bunch of flowers, the
dead man's cap or bayonet and rifle (these two latter only if (p. 151)
they had been badly damaged when the man died). Many crosses had been
taken from the churchyard and placed over these men. One of them read,
"A notre devote fille," and another, "To my beloved mother."
Several Indians, men of the Bengal Mountain Battery, were buried here.
A woman it was stated, had disclosed their location to the enemy, and
the billet in which they were staying was struck fair by a high
explosive shell. Thirty-one were killed. They were now at
rest--Anaytullah, Lakhasingh, and other strange men with queer names
under the crosses fashioned from biscuit boxes. On the back of
Anaytullah's cross was the wording in black: "Biscuits, 50 lbs.
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