_November 17._ Snowing to beat hell. All hands to Bussang to evacuate hospital--minus usual sumptuous repast. Fenton moved rear roller of his boat in usual dashing style--came around the corner a minute later with conservative momentum and received from master-mechanic a severe dissertation on over-speeding, etc., standing on his own ruins as he spoke. Got late to Krüth--found Douglass there--then eased victuals into us at the "Joffre"--six eggs in my inner tube. Took three frozen feet to Bussang. We slipped as skating-rink _camions_ stuck all along the line--snow packed in hard. 168 ran poorly on way back--slow going on slippery road--the _col_ magnificent--trees loaded with fresh snow. _December 3._ To Thoms--enormous amount of heavy artillery on the road--eternal convoys of mules on way up. Kept getting stuck--finally got through--found Galatti--terrible weather, road sea of mud, mountain torrents across it. In the afternoon we each took down a load of four--difficult driving--so tired when we got to Moosch. We had dinner there. My carbide worked feebly, so G. followed with electric lights to show me the way. On steep grade after zigzag I stuck--backed into bank. G. thought he had _callé_'ed his wheel, but _voiture_ rolled downhill into the gutter. An hour's hellish pushing, cranking, etc., of no avail. Finally I got out a trench spade and dug away bank and he backed--some _tringlots_ came by and we pushed him up. Next assault was on steep turn. G., having burned out his electric lights trying to get out of gutter, went ahead of me with his barnyard lantern on bowsprit. He missed the road. I slowed up and we rested side by side, neither daring to lift the toe on the brake. Finally G. backed into a frightful hole--got out, _callé_'ed my _voiture_, and we went in and routed up some _charbonniers_ in some log cabins off the road--two cabins full--got out of bed with most charming grace and pulled the car out and we finally got back--three hours from Moosch to there--_très_ tired, _tous les deux_. _December 7._ Hung around expecting to leave early to-morrow--took a contagious call in Hall's car, mine being _chargée_, to Wesserling, where at the end of the valley between the mountains three _avions_ were flying around--two French, one German. The sky clear for once and, lit by sun about to sink over Ballon d'Alsace, was studded with white shrapnel puffs--while the German puffs were flaked into black clouds. On the way to Bussang with my contagious passed Hill who yelled, "We stay." WALDO PEIRCE _Further Pages_ _January 9._ Took Maud [the name of his car] out in the morning with Hill at the wheel.--Went first to Moosch then back by Urber to test hill. Maud pronounced fit for military burial after Hill's autopsy. In P.M. made inventory of Mellen's old car to take out to-morrow. Bad dreams at night about Thoms. [Illustration: THE "POSTE DE SECOURS" NEAR HARTMANNSWEILERKOPF]