At this moment the door opened and a hurry call was brought in for three hundred wounded. A great battle had been fought and our boys were needed at once. I stuck the letter in my pocket and went out. In ten minutes we were on the road. Arriving in the night at the station where the men were to be brought in we were told that the train would not arrive for at least an hour and we knew that that might mean six hours, as it often did. Things were fairly quiet here, but now and then we saw the shell flashes and occasionally heard the booming of the guns. I went into a little structure nearby prepared to wait as long as need be. While sitting there I got out my odd French stationery and began finishing that letter to myself. I wrote: And may that beautiful French hospitality always be a bright spot in your life. And when your time comes to "shuffle off this mortal coil," whether violently or peacefully, may you remember that many a better man out here has done so courageously for a heroic cause. Take this to yourself. Good-bye. Sincerely, YOUR FRIEND. I folded the top of the letter down over the bottom and wet the edges with my tongue, pressing them together, and put it in my pocket ready to mail. I had just turned around when--rip--bang--a monstrous bomb burst right in the block where I was sitting, tearing a hole fifteen inches in diameter right through the roof, and totally enveloping everyone in blinding, choking dust. The concussion put out the candle and as I had no matches, I just sat there half dazed for several minutes coughing and sneezing and wondering what was coming next. Finally I rubbed my eyes and felt my way out of the place, only to find that one of the cars had been smashed to toothpicks by the shell as it went off. As I met one of the boys he said, "Where were you?" I answered, "Inside writing a message to myself--but it was a more thrilling message to myself that came, in the way of that explosion." "Well, I should think so," he replied. "Hereafter you had better not bother writing to yourself; next time I'd write to the other fellow." And I thought it was pretty good philosophy. Half an hour later the trains came in, bearing the wounded in numbers. By working until one o'clock next day without any food, we finally got the wounded cared for and distributed, there being 400 of them instead of 300 as first reported. Providence, however, appears to have seen to it that men do not suffer when engaged in work of this kind, and I never heard any of the men complain of being hungry. Sometimes, however, at the stations, kind women provided coffee and sandwiches for the ambulance men as well as for the wounded, and when this was so they never went amiss.