There we had lived and eaten and sometimes slept during the attack. The soldiers of the ----th had practically adopted each and all of us, giving up their bunks and their food and wine for us at all times and sharing with us the various good things which had come from their homes scattered from the Savoie to Brittany. No lights were ever shown there; no shells had fallen anywhere near. On January 8, the first ones came, shrapnel and asphyxiating gas. Four men were killed. One of the _brancardiers_ came out and stood in the road, unsheltered, to warn any American car that might be coming up. A car broke down and I took 161 up that afternoon. We climbed the road among the shells, and near the top a man was struck just in front of us. I picked him up and on the way down again we went through a running fire. Two days later our hut up there was struck and demolished. So we moved. J. W. C. [Illustration] _Poilu Hardships_ The work during the past month has put an unusual strain upon every part of our cars. But it saves the wounded hours of painful travel, and is appreciated in the most touching manner by men as brave and uncomplaining as ever did a soldier's duty, who have more to face than is probably generally realized. All the horrors of modern war are known here--high explosives, burning oil, asphyxiating gases, and in addition it is no gentle country to campaign in. There are long marches and hard climbs, where the wind blows cold, and it rains, and soon will snow, for days at a time. It is, indeed, a privilege to see the courage and good cheer of the men who are facing these things. The _ravitaillement_ may be delayed; their allotted period in the water-soaked trenches may be doubled, or trebled, and yet it is always "_Ça ne fait rien._" It is a keen satisfaction to think that your work will help to make the horrors of cold weather a little less painful for such as they. D. D. L. MCGREW [Illustration] _Winter in Alsace_ [Illustration: WINTER IN ALSACE]