I was highly elated because I was, as I thought, in for a cushy job back at the base. The next morning the four reported to Division Headquarters for instructions. Two of the men were sent to large towns in the rear of the lines with an easy job. When it came our turn, the officer told us we were good men and had passed a very creditable examination. My tin hat began to get too small for me, and I noted that the other man, Atwell, by name, was sticking his chest out more than usual. The officer continued: "I think I can use you two men to great advantage in the front line. Here are your orders and instructions, also the pass which gives you full authority as special M. P. detailed on intelligence work. Report at the front line according to your instructions. It is risky work and I wish you both the best of luck." My heart dropped to zero and Atwell's face was a study. We saluted and left. That wishing us the "best of luck" sounded very ominous in our ears; if he had said "I wish you both a swift and painless death" it would have been more to the point. When we had read our instructions we knew we were in for it good and plenty. What Atwell said is not fit for publication, but I strongly seconded his opinion of the War, Army, and Divisional Headquarters in general. After a bit our spirits rose. We were full-fledged spy-catchers, because our instructions and orders said so. We immediately reported to the nearest French estaminet and had several glasses of muddy water, which they called beer. After drinking our beer we left the estaminet and hailed an empty ambulance. After showing the driver our passes we got in. The driver was going to the part of the line where we had to report. The ambulance was a Ford and lived up to its reputation. How the wounded ever survived a ride in it was inexplicable to me. It was worse than riding on a gun carriage over a rocky road. The driver of the ambulance was a corporal of the R.A.M.C., and he had the "wind up," that is, he had an aversion to being under fire. I was riding on the seat with him while Atwell was sitting in the ambulance, with his legs hanging out of the back. As we passed through a shell-destroyed village a mounted military policeman stopped us and informed the driver to be very careful when we got out on the open road, as it was very dangerous, because the Germans lately had acquired the habit of shelling it. The Corporal asked the trooper if there was any other way around, and was informed that there was not. Upon this he got very nervous, and wanted to turn back, but we insisted that he proceed and explained to him that he would get into serious trouble with his commanding officer if he returned without orders; we wanted to ride, not walk. From his conversation we learned that he had recently come from England with a draft and had never been under fire, hence, his nervousness. We convinced him that there was not much danger, and he appeared greatly relieved.