illuminated by huge fires around which were huddled the men who had been lucky enough to escape the hike by riding down in trucks. The leaping flames, the shifting shadows of the men, the black night which seemed to surge in, then to recede as the fires waned and waxed, gave a wierd, unreal effect, like Dores' wild conception of the Inferno. Along this blazing avenue we marched, and found, to our dis­ gust, that we must wait for our train in a spot far distant from the fires. Shelter at Vitry station was scarce as shelter in Death Valley, so, swathed like Bedouins in our blankets, we hunched up in miser­ able groups, our backs to the damp bitter wind, and sought consolation in the thought that "it wouldn't last forever." It didn't, but it was two in the morning before a train pulled in. We slipped into our packs in a non-committal manner, perfectly prepared to hear that this train was not ours. But it was, the fates favoring us, and we marched up the ramp again, past the friendly flaring fires, and clambered into our cars. The allowance of straw was insufficient; presently from each car a dark figure slipped forth and vanished into the night, to return in a most undignified haste, staggering under a bale of straw, filched from under the very nose of the R. T. O. Immediately a subdued rustling and thumping filled the air, sounds of straw being straightened out and spread over rough boards. Another five minutes of restless shifting and turning and A Battery was at home. Allons!

                Next morning found us well on our way across France, at a speed which promised a daylight entraining. Bourges was passed, and noon found us at St.

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INDEX