Here we have been standing by all day while a big Committee at Abbeville is settling whether our beloved and beautiful No.-- A.T. is to be handed back to the French railway; and if so, whether it will be replaced by inferior French carriages, or whether one of the four new British trains that are coming will be handed over to us, or whether all the _personnel_ will be disbanded and dispersed. I have a feeling that its day is over, but perhaps things will turn out better than that.

I have been for five walks to-day, including a bask in the sun on the sands, and a bath at the Club and a visit to the nice old R.C. church and the flower-market.

_Tuesday, March 23rd_, 9 P.M.--Waiting all day at G.H.Q.; things are unusually quiet; one train has been through with only ninety, and another with a hundred. We went for a walk along the ca.n.a.l this morning with the wee puppy, and this afternoon saw over the famous jute factory Convalescent Home, where they have a thousand beds under one roof: it is like a town divided into long wards,--dining-rooms, recreation rooms, dressing station, chiropodist, tailor's shop, &c.--by shoulder-high canvas or sailcloth screens; they have outside a kitchen, a boiler, a disinfector for clothes, and any amount of baths. They have a concert every Sat.u.r.day night. The men looked so absolutely happy and contented with cooked instead of trench food, and baths and games and piano, and books and writing, &c. They stay usually ten days, and are by the tenth day supposed to be fit enough for the trenches again; it often saves them a permanent breakdown from general causes, and is a more economical way of treating small disablements than sending them to the Base Hospitals. Last week they had five hundred wounded to treat, and two of the M.O.'s had to take a supply-train of seven hundred slightly wounded down to Rouen with only two orderlies. They had a bad journey. I had a French cla.s.s after tea. We are now expecting to-day's London papers, which are due here about 9 P.M.

Have got some Hindustani to learn for my next lesson (from Sister B.), so will stop this.

_Wednesday, March 24th._--Moved on at 11 P.M. and woke up at Chocques; a few smallish guns going. Loaded up there very early and at two other places, and are now nearly back to Boulogne, mostly wounded and a few Indians; some of them are badly damaged by bombs.

The men in the Neuve Chapelle touch were awfully disappointed that they weren't allowed to push on to Lille. The older men say wonderful things of K.'s boys: "The only fault we 'ave to find wi' 'em is that they expose theirselves too much. 'Keep your 'eads down!' we 'ave to say all the time. All they wants is to charge."

According to the men, we shall be busy again at the end of this week.

_Midnight._--On way to coast near Havre where No.-- G.H. is. Put all worst cases off at B., the rest mostly sleeping peacefully. Pa.s.sed a place on coast not far S. of B., where six hundred British workmen are working from 7 A.M. to 10 P.M. building hospital huts for 12,000 beds, a huge encampment, ready for future business.

Have seen cowslips and violets on wayside. Lovely moonlight night. Train running very smoothly.

_Thursday, March 25th._--There is a great deal of very neat and elaborate gla.s.s market-gardening going on round Rouen: it looks from the train an unbroken success; thousands of fat little plants with their gla.s.s hats off and thousands more with them on, and very little labour that can be seen. But the vegetables we buy for our mess are not particularly cheap.

9 P.M., _R._--There are three trains waiting here, or rather at S., which means a blessed lull for the people in the firing line.

There was a day or two after Neuve Chapelle when the number of wounded overflowed the possibilities of "collection"; the stretcher-bearers were all hit and the stretchers were all used, and there were not enough medical officers to cope with the numbers (extra ones were hurried up from the Base Hospitals very quickly), and if you wanted to live you had to walk or crawl, or stay behind and die. We had a Canadian on who told me last night that he should never forget the stream of wounded dragging themselves along that road from Neuve Chapelle to Estaires who couldn't be found room for in the motor ambulances. Two trains picked them up there, and there were many deaths on the trains and in the motor ambulances. The "Evacuation" was very thorough and rapid to the bases and to the ships, but in any great battle involving enormous casualties on both sides there must be some gaps you can't provide for.

_Friday, March 26th._--At Sotteville all day.

_Sat.u.r.day, March 27th._--Ditto. Piercing cold winds and no heating for a month past.

_Sunday, March 28th._--Ditto.

_Monday, March 29th._--Ditto.

_Tuesday, March 30th._--Ditto. This cold wind has dried up the mud everywhere, and until to-day there's been a bright sun with it.

The men clean the train and play football, and the M.O.'s take the puppy out, and everybody swears a great deal at a fate which no one can alter, and we are all craving for our week-old mails.

_Wednesday, March 31st._--We actually acquired an engine and got a move on at 4 o'clock this morning, and are now well away north. Just got out where we stopped by a fascinating winding river, and got some brave marsh-marigolds.

5 P.M.--Just getting into Boulogne.

IX.

With No.-- Field Ambulance (1)

BILLETS: LIFE AT THE BACK OF THE FRONT

_April 2, 1915, to April 29, 1915_

"The fighting man shall from the sun Take warmth, and life from the glowing earth; Speed with the light-foot winds to run, And with the trees to newer birth; And find, when fighting shall be done, Great rest, and fulness after dearth."

--JULIAN GRENFELL.

IX.

With No.-- Field Ambulance (1).

BILLETS: LIFE AT THE BACK OF THE FRONT.

_April 2, 1915, to April 29, 1915._

Good Friday and Easter, 1915--The Maire's Chateau--A walk to Beuvry--The new billet--The guns--A Taube--The Back of the Front--A soldier's funeral--German Machine-guns--Gas fumes--The Second Battle of Ypres.

_Good Friday, April 2nd._--We got into Boulogne on Wednesday from Sotteville at 5 P.M., and as soon as the train pulled up a new Sister turned up "to replace Sister ----," so I prepared for the worst and fully expected to be sent to Havre or etretat or Rouen, and began to tackle my six and a half months' acc.u.mulation of belongings. In the middle of this Miss ---- from the Matron-in-Chief arrived with my Movement Orders "to proceed forthwith to report to the O.C. of No.-- Field Ambulance for duty," so h.e.l.l became heaven, and here I am at railhead waiting for a motor ambulance to take me and my baggage to No.-- F.A. wherever it is to be found.

The Railway Transport Officer at Boulogne let me come up as far as St Omer (or rather the next waiting place beyond), on No.-- A.T., and get sent on by the R.T.O. there. We waited there all yesterday, lovely sunny day, and in the evening the R.T.O. sent me on in a supply train which was going to the railhead for No.-- F.A. The officer in charge of it was very kind, and turned out of his carriage for me into his servant's, and apologised for not having cleared out every sc.r.a.p of his belongings. The Mess of No.-- saw me off, with many farewell jokes and witticisms.

This supply train brings up one day's rations to the 1st Corps from Havre, and takes a week to do it there and back. This happens daily for one corps alone, so you can imagine the work of the A.S.C. at Havre. At railhead he is no longer responsible for his stuff when the lorries arrive and take up their positions end on with the trucks. They unload and check it, and it is done in four hours. That part of it is now going on.

When we got to railhead at 10.15 P.M. the R.T.O. said it was too late to communicate with the Field Ambulance, and so I slept peacefully in the officer's bunk with my own rugs and cushion. We had tea about 9 P.M. I had had dinner on No.--.

This morning the first thing I saw was No.-- A.T. slumbering in the sun on the opposite line, so I might just as well have come up in her, except that there was another Sister in my bed.

After a sketchy wash in the supply train, and a cup of early tea from the officer's servant, I packed up and went across to No.-- for breakfast; many jeers at my having got the sack so soon.

The R.T.O. has just been along to say that Major ---- of No.-- Clearing Hospital here will send me along in one of his motor ambulances.

11 A.M.--Had an interesting drive here in the M.A. through a village packed with men billeted in barns and empty houses--the usual aeroplane buzzing overhead, and a large motor ambulance convoy by the wayside.

We are in the town itself, and the building is labelled No.-- F.A.

Dressing Station for Officers. The men are in a French Civil Hospital run very well by French nuns, and it has been decided to keep the French and English nurses quite separate, so the only difference between the two hospitals is that the one for the men has French Sisters, with R.A.M.C. orderlies and M.O.'s, and the other for officers has English Sisters, with R.A.M.C. orderlies and M.O.'s. There are forty-seven beds here (all officers). One Army Sister in charge, myself next, and two staff nurses--one on night duty. There are two floors; I shall have charge of the top floor.

We are billeted out, but I believe mess in the hospital.

All this belongs to the French Red Cross, and is lent to us.