“One of ze dressed staisheon ess more veree far up ze road at zee feets of one hill, _m’sieu’_. Eet is maybe one kilo from zee enemy at ze Château-Thierry. Go where eet is and carry all ze wound’ you can to bring heem _par-ici_. Then we operate and dispose, _m’sieurs_. _Allons!_” The ambulances raced away in a string, Don leading. Then began again the experiences of near approach to the battle line, hearing the almost constant rattle of small arms and the hardly less continuous roar of larger guns, seeing the shattered buildings and trees and shell-holes in the most unexpected places. The military police were on duty along the roads. Military messengers were hurrying back and forth. _Brancardiers_ were crossing and re-crossing the fields, with their stretchers empty or laden. Field artillery was moving forward to position. Troops were going in to engage the enemy, or coming out to rest and others waiting in reserve. Ammunition carriers lugged forward their heavy loads. Food for the men in battle was being prepared in hastily set-up kitchens. Sometimes a shell exploded and punctuated the tremendous activity. “Now then, Wash, mind your eye. We’ve got to get in where, any minute, we may run into a big bang and go up a mile high, or maybe get buried alive or dead under about a ton of earth. Here’s where it is you’ve been saying you’d like to get--right in among the fighters. So be prepared for the worst!” “Ah ain’t ezakly ready fo’ no sech carryin’s on ez dis,” the darky remarked, rolling his ivory eye-balls until Don thought the pupils would go out of sight and stay there. “How--how long we gotta stay yere an’ what’s de mattah wiv me jes’ droppin’ off ’bout dis place ’en waitin’ twill yu-all gits back from in yondah? Kaint see how Ah’s gwine be much use nohow.” “You stay right on this car!” ordered Don. “What did you come for? When you get hit, then it’s time to talk about quitting. From your color I didn’t believe you had a single streak of yellow in you.” Wash stared hard at Don for a moment. A big, whizzing shell, with a noise like that made by a nail when thrown through the air, passed over, not very far away, and exploded with a horrible rending sound, but the negro only shook himself and then grinned. Presently he replied to his companion: “An’ Ah ain’t yaller, neither! No, sah! En’ yu-all ain’t gwine tuh have no call tuh say Ah is yaller. No, sah! Ah’s gwine tuh stay on dis job ontil de yearth jes’ fade away an’ kingdom come, Ah is. Scairt? Is Ah? Yu jes’ watch me! An’ ef Ah’s gotta git hit, why Ah jes’ gits hit an’ Ah reckon Ah kin stan’ it ez well ez a yuther o’ them niggahs a-fightin’, or any white man, either! Yes, sah!”