A heavy bombardment was
taking place, and the French were replying. We were lucky enough to get
on to the route and into safety before any shell fell near us. It
appears that the Germans systematically bombard the roads at night,
hoping to destroy the _camions_ bringing up the food for the city, fresh
munitions, and men.
We slept that night at Bar-le-Duc and next morning saw the various
ambulances and hospitals which the Service de Sante had particularly
requested me to visit. I was impressed by the splendid organisation of
the Red Cross even quite close to the firing-line.
Passing through one tent hospital, an Algerian called out to me:
"Ohe, la blonde, viens ici! J'ai quelque chose de beau a te montrer"
("Come here, fair girl, I have something pretty to show you").
He was sitting up in bed, and, as I approached, unbuttoned his
bed-jacket and insisted on my examining the tag of his vest, on which
was written, "Leader, London." The vest had come in a parcel of goods
from the London Committee of the French Red Cross, and I only wished
that the angel of goodness and tenderness who is the Presidente of the
Croix Rouge, Mme. de la Panouse, and that Mr. D.H. Illingworth, Mr.
Philip Wilkins, and all her able lieutenants, could have seen the
pleasure on the face of this swarthy defender of France. In the next bed
was a Senegalais who endeavoured to attract my attention by keeping up a
running compliment to my compatriots, my King, and myself.
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