oke a word of command; the first ambulance
must now get back. I was with the first ambulance, in Mr. Gleeson's
company. We had a full load of wounded men, and we were loitering. I put
my head outside the cover and gave the word to the chauffeur. As I did
so a shrapnel bullet came past my head, and, striking a piece of
ironwork, flattened out and fell at my feet. I picked it up and put it
in my pocket, though God alone knows why, for I was not in search of
souvenirs.

So we started with the first ambulance through those frightful streets
again and out into the road to the country. "Very hot!" said one of the
men--I think it was the chauffeur. Somebody else asked if we should get
through with luck. Nobody answered the question. The wounded men with us
were very quiet; I thought they were dead. There was only an incessant
cannonade and the crashing of buildings. The mitrailleuses were at work
now, spitting out bullets. It was a worse sound than that of the shells;
it seemed more deadly in its rattle. I started back behind the car and
saw the other ambulance in our wake. I did not see the motor car.

Along the country roads the fields were still being plowed by shells
which burst over our heads. We came to a halt again in a place where
soldiers were crouched under cottage walls. There were few walls now,
and inside some of the remaining cottages were many wounded men. Their
comrades were giving them first aid and wiping the blood out of their
eyes. We managed to take some of these on board. They were less quiet
than the others we had, and groaned in a heartrending way.

A little later we made a painful discovery--Lieut. de Broqueville, our
gallant young leader, was missing. By some horrible mischance he had not
taken his place in either of the ambulances or the motor cars. None of
us had the least idea what had happened to him; we had all imagined that
he had scrambled up like the rest of us, after giving the order to get
away.

There was only one thing to do--to get back in search of him. Even in
the half hour since we had left the town Dixmude had burst into flames
and was a great blazing torch. If de Broqueville were left in that hell
he would not have a chance of life.

It was Mr. Gleeson and Mr. Ashmead-Bartlett who, with great gallantry,
volunteered to go back and search for our leader. They took the light
car and sped back toward the burning town. The ambulances went on with
their cargo of wounded, and Lady Doro