In Compiègne was another very interesting hospital presided over by that wonderful Frenchman, Alexis Carrel, of the Rockefeller Institute of New York. Here he has done research work that has made his name familiar in every scientific circle the world over. And here in Compiègne, in this newer field, his researches have brought forth new methods of treating wounds which have been adopted in hospitals throughout the war zone. His hospital was a government institution, not one of the voluntary ambulances of which our château was an example. At the time of writing, two years from my period of service at the Château de Rimberlieu, it is still doing good service as a hospital, though now it is entirely directed by the French military authorities. But a number of the original people are still there, performing the same generous deeds which they performed in my time, though they are performing them many miles from the scene of fighting, for early in 1917 at this point the French happily pushed back the invaders for many miles. CHAPTER XXIII ON A TRANSPORT Since the war began and the Germans undertook the drowning of women and children by the submarine method I have crossed the Atlantic four times. Two of these voyages were on troop transports. Traveling on a transport is really a pleasure voyage, except for the military discipline, always a bit obnoxious to the Anglo-Saxon of the North American continent--but absolutely necessary if an army is the thing desired, not a mob. On a transport the food and sleeping quarters are all that anyone could desire in a time of war, and they satisfied all, from the veriest batman to the highest military officer whose duty it is to maintain discipline. On my first transport experience we took the ship at an Atlantic port some days before sailing, and no one knew the date or hour of our intended start except the first officer of the ship, who received his orders from the admiralty. Our crowd was an immense one, made up of men from all the different departments of the army, and women who were either trained nurses, or members of the Voluntary Aid Detachment, going overseas to do their bit in the hospitals or the convalescent and rest homes in England and France. Until the boat started on its voyage, dances were held nightly on the main deck, but once we put out to sea, the ship traveled in darkness. No one was permitted on the decks at night except the guards, and they were forbidden to smoke for fear of attracting attention that was not desirable.