car was
now drawn up close under some building that looked like a town hall, on
the other side of the street. We were in the middle of the village. The
village itself was the extreme fringe of the danger zone. Where the
houses ended, a stretch of white road ran up for about [?] a hundred
yards to the turnip-field. Standing in the village street, we could see
the turnip-field, but not all of it. The road goes straight up to the
edge of it and turns there with a sweep to the left and runs alongside
for about a mile and a half.

On the other side of the turnip-field were the German lines. The first
that had raked the village street also raked the fields and the mile and
a half of road alongside.

It was along that road that the car would have to go.

M. ---- told our Ambulance that it might as well go back. There were no
more wounded. Only two Germans lying in a turnip-field. The three of
us--Mrs. Torrence and Janet and I--tried to bring pressure to bear on M.
----. We meant to go and get those Germans.

But M. ---- was impervious to pressure. He refused either to go with the
car himself or to let us go. He said we were too late and it was too far
and there wouldn't be light enough. He said that for two Belgians, or
two French, or two British, it would be worth while taking risks. But
for two Germans under German fire it wasn't good enough.

But Mrs. Torrence and Janet and I didn't agree with him. Wounded were
wounded. We said we were going if he wasn't.

Then the chauffeur Tom joined in. He refused to offer his car as a
target for the enemy.[24] Our firm Belgian was equally determined. The
Commandant, as if roused from his beautiful dream to a sudden
realization of the horrors of war, absolutely forbade the expedition.

It took place all the same.

Tom's car, planted there on our side of the street, hugging the wall,
with its hood over its eyes, preserved its attitude of obstinate
immobility. Newlands' car, hugging the wall on the other side of the
street, stood discreetly apart from the discussion. But a Belgian
military ambulance car ran up, smaller and more alert than ours. And a
Belgian Army Medical Officer strolled up to see what was happening.

We three advanced on that Army Medical Officer, Mrs. Torrence and Janet
on his left and I on his right.

I shall always be grateful to that righteous man. He gave Mrs. Torrence
and Janet leave to go, and he gave me leave to go with them; he gave us
the military a