Source: Wanderings of a War artist (W.H. Allen & co, London, 1889)
Irving Montagu (1842-1901)
Chapter I. A golden river. Page 234.
Within twenty minutes, the little town from end to end was one sheet of flame, which, mingling with the glorious sunset, made the waters of the Bidassoa look like molten gold, till the long black evening shadows closed slowly in, and the musketry slackened down to a desultory dropping fire, directed chiefly at scared women and children, who till now hidden away, had all too soon come upon the scene. (…) All this time, too, the noise of the conflict having completely ceased, a curious uncanny silence prevailed, everyone seeming afraid to hear his own voice. Were they awe or horror-struck, or what ? Yet did this self-imposed silence continue, relieved only by the crackling timbers, the occasionally falling debris, or the low, crooning, pitiful wail of those who, having lost their all, had nothing left to live for.
Author: Irving Montagu (1842-1901)