of men when a Jack
Johnson lands a shell in the middle of them. Nearly every man on the
train, especially the badly smashed-up ones, tells you how exceptionally
lucky he was because he didn't get killed like his mate.

_Boulogne, Thursday, November 12th_, 8 P.M.--Have been here all day. Had
a hot bath on the St Andrew. News from the Front handed down the line
coincides with the 'Daily Mail.'

_Friday, 13th._--Still here--fourth day of rest. No one knows why;
nearly all the trains are here. The news to-day is glorious. They say
that the Germans did get through into Ypres and were bayoneted out
again.

_Friday, November 13th, Boulogne._--We have been all day in Park Lane
Siding among the trains, in pouring wet and slush. I amused myself with
a pot of white paint and a forceps and wool for a brush, painting the
numbers on both ends of the coaches inside, all down the train; you
can't see the chalk marks at night.

This unprecedented four days' rest and nights in bed is doing us all a
power of good; we have books and mending and various occupations.

_Saturday, November 14th._--Glorious sunny day, but very cold. Still in
Boulogne, but out of Park Lane Siding slum, and among the ships again.
Some French sailors off the T.B.'s are drilling on one side of us.

Everything R.A.M.C. at the base is having a rest this week--ships,
hospitals, and trains. Major S. said there was not so much doing at the
Front--thank Heaven; and the line is still wanted for troops. We have
just heard that there are several trains to go up before our turn comes,
and that we are to wait about six miles off. Better than the siding
anyhow. Meanwhile we can't go off, because we don't know when the train
will move out.

The tobacco and the cigarettes from Harrod's have come in separate
parcels, so the next will be the chocolate and hankies and cards, &c. It
is a grand lot, and I am longing to get up to the Front and give them
out.

_Sunday, November 15th._--We got a move on in the middle of the night,
and are now on our way up.

The cold of this train life is going to be rather a problem. Our
quarters are not heated, but we have "made" (_i.e._, acquired, looted) a
very small oil-stove which faintly warms the corridor, but you can
imagine how no amount of coats or clothes keeps you warm in a railway
carriage in winter. I'm going to make a foot muff out of a brown
blanket, which will help. A smart walk out of doors would do it, but
that