We found this time a delightful camp site in a space enclosed by a fine wood. The routine was always the same on arrival at our destination. Shortly before reaching the village, or place designated, I would ride on, with the interpreter and the sergeant, and choose a site. When the column arrived in front of it, I would beckon to them to follow, and, by hand gestures, indicate the positions respectively for the oxen and horses and the wagons. The position for the motors was decided with the leading chauffeur. The site for hospital tent, kitchen, and staff quarters was then quickly arranged with the doctors, cook, and nurses. Tents were immediately pitched, wood fires were lighted, the surgical boxes were brought to the hospital tent, unpacked, and the contents, arranged by the nurses and the hospital orderlies; kitchen stuff was unpacked in the kitchen by the cook; the doctors put on their white coats, the nurses their aprons; our Red Cross flag, on a pole, was placed in the ground near the hospital tent, and everything was ready for business. Frequently, and also on this occasion, Major A.'s column was encamped not far from us. He was this time on the other side of the main road. There were no wounded that day, and he and the two French doctors, and the Serbian artist had tea with us round our camp fire. Mons. Bettich stayed the night with us, because we could not drive him back to Headquarters until morning. He was amused at seeing four of the party, after supper, playing bridge, sitting on a ground-sheet by the camp fire, near the shelter of an ox-wagon, as though, he said, they were in their London drawing-rooms. "Ah! you English!" We talked about the arrogance of the Germans, and he told us, as an example, a story of a German officer who had lately been taken prisoner; he was, as usual, well treated and was allowed to write a letter to his friends at home; but in the letter he made reference to the Serbian people as "those Hottentots." The next day (October 18th) things seemed to be going badly. Piteous processions of refugees, from villages bombarded and threatened by the Germans, were streaming southwards along the roads. In one village only 30 women and children had remained out of a population of 3,000 people. Grenades had fallen in Michaelovatz, which only yesterday had been the headquarters of the Staff; and the thundering of the guns, only five miles away, was continuous. But everybody consoled themselves with the belief that the Allies would soon be here and put things straight. The metaphorical flags of welcome were already fluttering in our minds.