to be hitched on to a
motor-ambulance.

One or two strong trays in each kitchen would be useful. The little
trollies would be for railway-station work. As we go on I hope to have
one kitchen for each dressing-station as well.

SALLY.

* * * * *

_8 November._--This afternoon I went down to the Hotel des Arcades,
which is the general meeting ground for everyone. The drawing-room was
full and so was the Place Jean Bart, on which it looks. Suddenly we saw
people beginning to fly! Soldiers, old men, children in their Sunday
clothes, all running to cover. I asked what was up, and heard that a
Taube was at that moment flying over our hotel. These are the sort of
pleasant things one hears out here! Then Lady Decies came running in to
say that two bombs had fallen and twenty people were wounded.

Once more we got bandages and lint and hurried off in a motor-car, but
the civilian doctors were looking after everyone. The bomb by good luck
had fallen in a little garden, and had done the least damage imaginable,
but every window in the neighbourhood was smashed.

[Page Heading: NIGHT WORK AT RAILWAY SHEDS]

At night we went to the railway-sheds and dressed wounds. I made them do
the Germans; but it was too late for one of them--a handsome young
fellow with both his feet deep blue with frost-bite, his leg broken, and
a great wound in his thigh. He had not been touched for eight days.
Another man had a great hole right through his arm and shoulder. The
dressing was rough and ready. The surgeons clapped a great wad of lint
into the hole and we bound it up. There is no hot water, no sterilising,
no cyanide gauze even, but iodine saves many lives, and we have plenty
of it. The German boy was dying when we left. His eyes above the straw
began to look glazed and dim. Death, at least, is merciful.

We work so late at the railway-sheds that I lie in bed till lunch time.
Lady Bagot and I go to the sheds in the evening and stay there till 1
a.m.

_11 November. Boulogne._--I got a letter from Julia yesterday, telling
me that Alan is wounded and in hospital at Boulogne, and asking me to
go and see him.

I came here this morning and had to run about for a long time before I
started getting a "laissez-passer" for the road, as spies are being shot
almost at sight now. By good chance I got a motor-car which brought me
all the way; trains are uncertain, and filled with troops, and one never
knows when the