orm in fogs or the early hours of a winter's morning when it was
almost too dark to see anything. Some Red Cross men drivers from Havre
watched us once, and declared their quay down there was wider by several
feet, but no one ever turned on it. It seemed odd at home to see two
girls on army ambulances. We went distances of sixty miles or more
alone, only taking an orderly when the cases were of a very serious
nature and likely to require attention _en route_.

Once I remember I was returning from taking a new medical officer (a
cheerful individual, whose only remark during the whole of that
fifteen-mile run was, "I'm perished!") to an outlying camp. I wondered
at first if that was his name and he was introducing himself, but one
glance was sufficient to prove otherwise! On the way back alone, I
paused to ask the way, as I had to return by another route. The man I
had stopped (whom at first I had taken to be a Frenchman) was a German
prisoner, so I started on again; but wherever I looked there were
nothing but Germans, busily working at these quarries. No guards were
in sight, as far as I could see, and I wondered idly if they would take
it into their heads to hold up the car, brain me, and escape. It was
only a momentary idea though, for looking at these men, they seemed to
be quite incapable of thinking of anything so original.

Coming back from B. one day I started a huge hare, and with the utmost
difficulty prevented the good Susan from turning off the road, lepping
the ditch, and pursuing 'puss' across the flat pastures. Some sporting
'bus, I tell you!

The Tanks made their first appearance in September, and weird and
wonderful were the descriptions given by the different men I asked whom
I carried on my ambulance. They appeared to be anything in size from a
hippopotamus to Buckingham Palace. It was one of the best kept secrets
of the war. When anyone asked what was being made in the large foundries
employed they received the non-committal reply "Tanks," and so the name
stuck.

My last leave came off in the autumn, and while I was at home Lamarck
Hospital closed on its second anniversary--October 31, 1916. The
Belgians now had a big hut hospital at the Porte de Gravelines, and
wished to concentrate what sick and wounded they had there, instead of
having so many small hospitals. A great celebration took place, and
there was much bouquet handing and speechifying, etc.

Our work for the Belgians did not cease with