On the 31st of October we stopped at an evacuation hospital and spent the afternoon there, because the General wanted to look around a bit and see just how a medical unit of this kind functions within firing distance of the front lines. It was about dusk when we left the hospital, with a borrowed pill-roller as a guide, to show us the more or less circuitous route to the next station of centralization, about twelve kilometers to the east. I had no idea we were in any danger and I don’t think any of us had any feeling of apprehension as we traveled along in silence over the muddy, rutted road, on which other cars were moving in the same direction. But the guide explained to us that this road was a bending connection of highways which dipped close to the lines at its northern bend, and as we got farther and farther along toward that apex, we did begin to feel a kind of strain, although all was as quiet as it had been. We had passed several guard posts on the way, each of them waving us on after a perfunctory glance at us and a word of explanation from the guide. In between these points, I had been dozing off, due to the rhythmic whirr of the engine and the fact that nobody had much to say. Even Esky thought it safe enough for him to lie curled up in the tonneau at the General’s feet. Ben was watching the unlit road with squinted eyes, his jaws set as if in defiance of the difficult going, his mouth opening only when necessary to acknowledge the directions which the guide, sitting between us, gave. We had passed the halfway mark of our journey when suddenly the lulling stillness was broken by Ben’s exclamation, “They’re shootin’ fireworks for us! Suppose they got the band out to welcome us, too?” Before he had spoken, we all saw the sudden change in the sky ahead of us. We could see the splurging illumination spread across the skyline a few miles to the front of our position, and in the next moment the terrible stillness became a chaos of noises, the booming ear-splitting thunder from big guns not far distant punctuated by the rattle-tat-tat and z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z of small arms. The road was plain to see now, but Ben turned for instructions before proceeding. “General, sir, seems like we’re headin’ square into that celebration.... Do we go on?” “What do you think, young man?” the General demanded of the guide. “Where are we and is the road safely distant all the way?” “Safe as anywhere,” replied the guide. “That probably isn’t much of anything, anyway, but the advance going up another hitch.... And even if it’s a boche movement, their fire wouldn’t reach this road: our artillery will push them back in a jiffy if they’re too close for comfort.... It’s just as safe here as anywhere around this section.” “All right, Sergeant. Go on.” But a few moments later, after the bursting of shells and flare of explosions had become suddenly closer, the Captain said, “This looks more like a counterattack to me!... It’s coming this way or I’m a fool!”