All together, pell-mell, happy and unhappy, we were punctually on the spot appointed for the automobiles to receive us when evening arrived. The entire convoy waited behind a hill. The drivers, muffled up in pelts, chatted while waiting for us. They looked fantastic in the dim light. Only two or three lanterns winked and blinked in the night. One was dimly aware of a file of conveyances lined up along the edge of the road, like great beasts asleep; the going to and fro of the officers of the convoy, and their colloquy with the colonel. It was all more felt than seen. One could distinguish only shadows; one heard the tramp of men, the dull murmur of low-voiced talking, sometimes an exclamation or a stifled oath. Then orders were transmitted by cyclists. The first battalion set out. Hurriedly each section climbed into the autos. These ought to have carried twenty men each, but twenty-five and even thirty were piled in, somehow, with their arms, their luggage, their knapsacks, their side-bags, their canteens. As soon as a company was loaded in the captain gave the order to go. One by one the cars fell into line. The motors coughed and plunged forward like a dog unleashed. Then ten more machines received a new company, and departed in their turn. They also were swallowed up by the night. When my turn came, by some chance I was assigned to an auto with the officers, where we were much less crowded than in the large vehicles of the privates. I therefore expected to gain some further information concerning our destination. In this I was disappointed, as the officers knew very little about it; besides, from the time the motor started and the auto was on its way no further conversation was possible. We could not hear each other, even when nearly shouting, and we had enough to do in resisting the bumps which threw us against each other. We inhaled the dust: a thick, heavy dust, raised by the wheels. It soon covered us completely. One could feel it coating his face, and small grains of sand rolled between one’s fingers. We could not see, for the curtains were drawn down tightly, and it was very dark. We travelled as in an interminable tunnel, with no light whatever, with no knowledge of what we were passing or of the country we were traversing. Sometimes there were sudden stops. The quickly set brakes brought us to a standstill with a jerk. We asked the driver: “What is the matter? Where are we?” He scarcely answered, for he knew no more than we. His order was to follow the auto in front of him, and to keep his machine twenty metres behind, that he might avoid a collision in case of a too-sudden stop. He followed his orders, and knew nothing more. He did not even know the road we were travelling. The car which led the procession carried the chief officer of the convoy. Probably he was the only man besides our colonel who knew our destination.