I sent word to the ambulance column, and they, in the absence of their Major, who was in the town, started off on trek at once; but when the Major returned, he was annoyed at having been forgotten, and he recalled them and said he was going to wait till the official order came. That was his affair; but his wagons were horse-drawn, so I knew he could catch us up. I started the column on the road, and went on ahead with the cars to overtake the Staff and get orders. We had a quick supper in the town at our café on the way. While we were mustering and about to start, a man and two women, who said they were members of a Danish hospital unit, came up and asked questions, to which they received no answers. I was suspicious of them, because they told us, as though they were pleased, that Belgrade had been taken by the Germans and Austrians, and that the Armies of the Allied French and English had arrived at Salonica, but that they had been refused permission to pass through Greece, though Nish was beflagged in readiness for their arrival. I didn't at the time believe them, though I had begun to wonder why we were on the road to Nish instead of to Sofia. The road, in the dark, was a trial for the cars--tremendous hills with hairpin corners--and several times we feared the cars would break down. But the chauffeurs showed great pluck, and as they kept together, they helped each other successively. At 10.30 p.m., when we reached the summit of a place called Vesibaba, we found an encampment all asleep, and we were told by the guards that this was Staff Headquarters; so we ran the cars under a shed and went to bed in them. The rest of the column arrived at two next morning. I rose early to get news of our next move, and had a talk with a friendly major of a telegraph section, who was cleaning his teeth outside his tent. I wouldn't allow him to interrupt such an enjoyment, so he finished the operation, and when his man had taken away the basin, he insisted on giving me a cup of coffee, and then we walked up and down the road--no one else was up--and discussed the political and military situation. Venizelos had just resigned, and it seemed likely that there would be a reaction on the part of the people in his favour. An orderly from Headquarters then came up and presented to me the fateful, white, square envelope--the order to move on, at 6 a.m., to Malça. Breakfast was now ready, and we were on the road by six, forming part of the everlasting grey-brown procession. The road was downhill, less interesting than hitherto, but better for the cars, and we reached Malça at five o'clock. The only excitement had been the appearance of two Bulgarian aeroplanes, which were receiving attention from the guns at Nish, but they were not hit. CHAPTER XX