About nine o'clock, I started to beat it for the dressing station. But believe me, old man, it was easier said than done, for we had advanced over a mile over No Man's Land and I had to go all over that way again. There were three of us that started. The other two were just slightly wounded--one in the shoulder and the other in the wrist. But poor me, having it in the knee, was worst of the bunch. I couldn't move fast, it had stiffened me so. Well, we had our little adventures going across. Once I got entangled in the barbed wire. And then when we saw several fellows ahead of us--we just dropped in a shell hole, and waited for them to move off. After a wait of about fifteen minutes, they didn't move. The fellow with the hit in the shoulder crawled forward to find out who they were. He was gone so long we were just making up our minds to make a wide circuit of them, "for none of us were armed"--we had thrown everything away so we could move quicker. Just as we had given him up he came back with the news it was one of our own working parties fixing wires. The reason he had been so long was because he had been waiting to catch some of the conversation to see whether it was English or not. Away we started again. We were nearing our old front line when Fritz caught us with one of his flare-lights. Of course the next minute it was Whiss-siss-siss-pop-pop-pop! They had turned a machine gun on us. Then came another wait in a shell hole. Eventually I reached the dressing station. I had my leg dressed and a few bits of sticking plaster put on various parts of my body. I was put on a motor ambulance and the next morning woke up in a hospital clearing station to find my old friend Jones sitting up in a bed opposite me. Well, we had a good laugh for we are like the Siamese twins. Wherever one is the other is not far off--at least it has been that way since coming to France. And the objects we looked, he with a face as big as two, and me with my clothing all muddy and torn and various other changes. We'd have made a good picture entitled, "After the Fight." Later on we were taken on a hospital train to this place, but I shall be glad when I can get about again. I feel more lonesome here than I ever have in all my life. It's the weariness of lying here with nothing to do that gets my "goat." Nevertheless it's great to be human again and among civilization again. The first few days I appreciated it all right, for I did not have a wink of sleep from the Monday night and scarcely anything to eat or drink. Now don't forget, old man, to drop me a line and let me know how everything is in dear old New York. So now good-bye for the present, hoping you WILL remember me to all old friends. Your old friend, LABAN. P. S. I am enclosing a little souvenir, one of Fritz's field cards. I was amusing myself on the back of it with a few verses. [Illustration: THIS IS THE SIDE OF THE POSTCARD TAKEN BY MR. HILL THAT WAS INTENDED FOR THE ADDRESS]