One old man, nearly blind and very lame, sat forlornly at one end of the line. He pulled at an empty pipe. We gave him some tobacco--some fresh English tobacco. He knew that it was not French when he rolled it in his hand. So we explained the brand. We explained patiently, for he was very deaf. He was delighted. He had heard of English tobacco, but had never had any. He stuffed the pipe eagerly and lit it. He leaned back against the cold stone wall and puffed in ecstasy. Ah! this English tobacco _was_ good. He was fortunate. We glanced back along the line. As we looked several of the women shrank against the wall. One covered her eyes. Two French ambulances passed, carrying a wounded Zouave on a stretcher. A yard engine went shrieking across their path and the ambulanciers halted. The huddled figure under the blankets groaned horribly. Then the procession proceeded to our first ambulance. The men were on the seat, ready for the race against time to the hospital. After a few minutes the soldiers who had herded the refugees into the shed came again to herd them out--back to the cattle cars. I asked one of the soldiers where they were going. He waved his hand vaguely toward the south. "_Là bas_," he muttered. He didn't know exactly. They were going somewhere--that was all. There was no place for them here. This station was for wounded. And would they ever return? He shrugged his shoulders. I looked at the forlorn procession sloshing across the yards. The rain beat harder. It was almost dark; the yard lamps threw dismal, sickish gleams across the tracks. The old man with the tobacco brought up the rear, helped along by an old woman hobbling on a stick. We heard the voice of the Medical Major bawling for "les ambulances Américaines." We looked behind into the gloom of the gare; a procession emerged--stretchers with huddled forms under blankets. As far down the yards as we could see--just on the edge of the night, those from Quesnoy-sur-Somme were climbing slowly into the cattle cars. PART FOUR WAR-CORRESPONDING DE LUXE CHAPTER XII OUT WITH CAPTAIN BLANK "Grand Quartier Général!" The sentry barring the road jerked his rifle instantly to rigid salute. The speaker sat beside the chauffeur of a big limousine. He wore a wonderful new horizon-blue captain's uniform, but on his left arm was the colored silken brassard of the Great General headquarters staff. It meant that the wearer was the direct agent of Père Joffre, and though sentries dotted our route the chauffeur never once brought the car to a full halt. Two other neutral correspondents were in the car with me. The tonneau was comfortably heated and electrically lighted. Our baggage was carried in other cars behind us, in charge of orderlies. Still other cars carried an armed escort, in case of sudden attack on the lines.