_November 13._ A bad number and a grim day for 168. At daybreak one _blessé_, one _malade_, to Moosch. Brake loose as an empty soap-bubble. Endless convoy of mules appeared at bottom of hill. Tail-enders received me sideways or full breach--couldn't stop--didn't think to put on reverse, so did some old-fashioned line-plunging. Heard cases crack, men swear, mules neigh, but heard no brake taking hold. Tried to stop later, but only succeeded in doing so by dragging against bank, which was so straight car rubbed along like an old elephant scratching its cutlets, and padlocks, keys, tools, side-boxes removed like flies. Incidentally a young army on the way up the hill--a few casualties if I had not stopped. Tornado of rain. A big tree had fallen across the road this morning--just got under it--had been chopped down on the way back. Nothing doing since, but frightful weather--good chance to write in diary--most devilish wind in P.M. Walked over to Bain-Douches in the evening to see Hartmann's by night by star bombs, but weather too bad and saw no bombs. The valley of the Rhine so near our feet--impossible to realize that somewhere between us and that flat vast plain, with all its villages alight at night, were both lines of trenches--yet the trees only moved in the wind and the only noise the batteries to the rear. _November 14._ Got up about an hour earlier than any one else, looked out to find trees covered with snow--most splendid. The two Fords snowed into the background. Built fire for sleeping sluggards. Took two "birds" and one _brancardier_ down the hill--brakes refused to work--used reverse successfully--no mules slaughtered or even touched--oxen in the way, of great service--dropped my men at Moosch. Blow-out just pulling into Wesserling with two _malades_--let 'em walk--put on new tube--also blew out--ran into hospital--put on new tire--no lunch. _November 15._ Cold and clear, mountains amazingly fine--was orderly. Tried to move an eight-story _Boche_ stove with Carey from wall to centre of room where heat might radiate more effectually--weight two tons--toppled like Tower of Pisa. I held it one second saving Carey's life after imperilling it first--just got out before the whole damn shooting-match crashed to floor a mass of broken cast-iron, broken baked clay, and ashes. With great patience and science utilized lower stones still standing by fixing top, shortening pipe, etc. Now in centre of room where one can sit, talk, read, etc. Two vain trips with Carey to see Burgomaster to report catastrophe.