North of Range Road there is no life in the street. A stretch of the Pavement shows where the nose of a shell struck and made a star-shaped design on the hard surface. The locked, bolted and barred Settlement gate at the end of Woosung Road looms up ominously, but there is no activity on the other side of it. Kashing Road is deserted and the closed Chinese shop-fronts present a gloomy appearance. The silence in the street is oppressive, but soon it is broken. First one, then another, shells whizz overhead with that peculiar, uncomfort table sound which gives the impression that the projectile is lubricated for its journey through the air.
Suddenly, at the Kashing Road bridge across the Hongkew Creek life appears. It is a lone Japanese sentry, a marine, who comes out of his steel-covered sandbag shelter and holds up a warning hand. Noone is allowed to cross the bridge. Really, one is not tempted to do so either. One look at the harried, burned-out no-man's land on. the Chapei boundary quite suffices while the shells continue to come over,
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.