When I got out into the main street again and turned to get my breath, along with a good many other runners, I saw three airplanes dropping bombs down on the city at the rate of a hundred in a little over three minutes, and with the detonations and the reverberations of the anti-aircraft guns which were being fired, added to the explosions of the bombs themselves, it just seemed as though the entire atmosphere was raining bombs. And any way I went, a whole flock of the bombs followed me. I learned later that an important factory was destroyed and that forty people were killed. If they had told me forty thousand, I think I should have believed it. The feeling on such an occasion as this is indescribable. It is not like any ordinary bombardment when you know the enemy is letting you have it from only one side--the front. The sense of utter helplessness when you feel he is all about you and peppering you from a thousand angles isn't comfortable to say the least. That afternoon I strolled about the city taking in the ruined districts, and that evening I set off for my post, complying with the provisions of my pass. If I hadn't left then, I couldn't have gone at all without a lot of difficulty. CHAPTER XIV THE DEATH OF A COMRADE On a certain Friday afternoon at M---- the day had been ominously quiet. Several of the boys had gone out for a little stroll and lunch before retiring, and a few were hanging around the cars. The sun was sinking low in the west and appeared to be loath to drop out of sight. An orderly from the hospital came rushing over out of breath and told us to come quickly. Two boys went with me immediately and as we entered a darkened room we saw our old friend, Gaston, apparently "passing out." Some of us had been pretty well acquainted with him. We went in noiselessly but as soon as we stepped over the threshold he opened his eyes a little wider and smiled faintly. He looked so peaceful that we hated to disturb him. Speaking in a kind of hoarse whisper he said, "I sent for you. I am glad you came. You boys have been good to me and I wanted to thank you. I am lonesome, and I want my mother, too. Pneumonia has set in, but I'll be better--in--a--couple--of--days. How--is--the--battle--go----?" Here his eyes closed and he seemed to sleep. Yes, I can truthfully say he did find sleep. The sleep which knows no waking. But the room was so quiet and he looked so calm and happy as he lay there that it did not seem like death. It only seemed as if some white angel had come down and touched his tired, feeble body and transfigured him. Poor fellow, he had been gassed at the battle of Ypres, and we had met him at the hospital. Several times we had had good visits with him and neither he nor we surmised that his time was so near at hand. He had not appeared to be in pain and he always said he did not suffer. And he was so hopeful to the end.