Naturally, like many writers, I am attracted to stories of

the extraordinary, the unique, the mythic. A look at the titles of my prose books make this clear. Thus, there must be something extraordinary, unique, and mythic in the Battle of Bellicourt Tunnel. Of course, this could be said of almost all accounts of battle. There is always heroism, gallantry, courage, horrible circumstances to be overcome, and just the simple problems of weather and terrain. Good confronts evil. There is victory and defeat. There is folly and wisdom, tactics, strategy, deception. Often, presumably there is divine intervention. Surely, each side prays to its deities–often to the same deity–for victory. Signs are read in the elements. Chaplains and the soldiers pray for it. There are personalities, the language of the military. This novel contains these. A canal tunnel three miles long, the plateau it lies beneath being the one reasonable place for the Allies to finally, after all these years, breach the Hindenburg Line.

What lies within the tunnel?