There we had lived and eaten and sometimes slept during the attack.
The soldiers of the ----th had practically adopted each and all of us,
giving up their bunks and their food and wine for us at all times and
sharing with us the various good things which had come from their
homes scattered from the Savoie to Brittany. No lights were ever shown
there; no shells had fallen anywhere near. On January 8, the first ones
came, shrapnel and asphyxiating gas. Four men were killed. One of the
_brancardiers_ came out and stood in the road, unsheltered, to warn any
American car that might be coming up. A car broke down and I took 161
up that afternoon. We climbed the road among the shells, and near the
top a man was struck just in front of us. I picked him up and on the
way down again we went through a running fire. Two days later our hut
up there was struck and demolished. So we moved.