“Do you want a live Boche for a souvenir? I’ll get you one!” They thought my gas-mask was a lovely joke. “What’s that strap across your shoulder for?” they teased. “That? Oh that’s my new Sam Browne belt!” “Say! Bet you don’t know how to put it on!” Then they would yell “Gas!” just to frighten me. In the street a little crowd of boys were tossing coppers. Everybody was anxious to get rid of his “clackers,” in order not to have to carry all that useless weight into the trenches with him. They invited me to join. I tried one penny while the boys all cheered, only to miss by a good yard. Lieut. B. came by: “Will you take tea with me in my dugout?” he asked. The order was given for the companies to form. The streets filled up; dusk was gathering. The Chief said that it was time to go. We found the car in the public square. Slowly we moved out of town. I shall never forget those long brown files drawn up against the dim grey houses. Five hours hence and those very boys would be in the front line trenches, face to face with the enemy. We passed Company A. I called out to them to be sure not to stick their heads up over the top, and not to dare to take off their gas-masks before they were ordered to. Never before did I realize how much those boys meant to me. Each face I saw flashed some vivid unforgettable association to my mind. “When you come back,” I called, “I’ll be waiting for you with the hot chocolate ready.” They smiled and waved Good-bye to me. Some of them held up their fingers to show how many Germans they were going to account for. A turn in the road shut it all from sight. On the way back to Rattentout we passed the Third Battalion, who were marching in on their very heels to take over their billets. It’s eleven o’clock now. They must be almost in. They are marching, I know, in darkness and silence; not a cigarette is to be lighted, not a word spoken above a whisper. One hour more and the relief will be completed. Rattentout, March 19. I am to be sent to Paris for reassignment. I have, it seems, been guilty of conduct unbecoming a lady under shell-fire. This sentence has been hanging over me ever since that day at Dugny. I knew of course that I was in disgrace but never dreamed that it would come to this. It seems, what no one had troubled to hint to me, that we have been allowed to go farther front than any women of any of the Allied Nations in France have been permitted to go to work before. Moreover that the French, whose guests we are in this sector, were very much opposed to the presence of women here, and only finally, after much persuasion, allowed us to come here on trial. Now the Chief says that he is afraid that my indiscreet action at Dugny in going down to the cross-roads instead of into a dugout may have shocked the French. In order to forestall any possible protest by our Allies I am to be made an example of the discipline of the organization. Etretat, Normandy. March 28.