t it, if anything, quicker
than we had come in. The flat land fairly dropped away before our speed.
I sat on the back step of the leading car, and I shall never forget the
look of those ambulances, three in a line, as they came into sight
scooting round the turns on the road to Ostend.

Besides the wounded we had brought from Ghent, we took with us three
footsore Tommies whom we had picked up in Bruges. They had had a long
march. The stoutest, biggest and most robust of these three fainted just
as we drew up in the courtyard of the _Kursaal_ at Ostend.

[_Ostend._]

The _Kursaal_ had been taken by some English and American women and
turned into a Hospital. It was filled already to overflowing, but they
found room for our wounded for the night. Ostend was to be evacuated in
the morning. In fact, we were considered to be running things rather
fine by staying here instead of going on straight to Dunkirk. It was
supposed that if the Germans were not yet in Bruges they might be there
any minute.

But we had had so many premature orders to clear out, and the Germans
had always been hours behind time, and we judged it a safe risk.
Besides, there were forty-seven Belgian wounded in Bruges, and three of
our ambulance cars were going back to fetch them.

There was some agitation as to who would and who wouldn't be allowed to
go back to Bruges. The Commandant was at first inclined to reject his
Secretary as unfit. But if you take him the right way he is fairly
tractable, and I managed to convince him that nothing but going back to
Bruges could make up for my failure to go back to Ghent. He earned my
everlasting gratitude by giving me leave. As for Mrs. Torrence, she had
no difficulty. She was obviously competent.

Then, just as I was congratulating myself that the shame of Ecloo was to
be wiped out (to say nothing of that ignominious overthrow at Melle),
there occurred a _contretemps_ that made our ambulance conspicuous among
the many ambulances in the courtyard of the Hospital.

We had reckoned without the mistimed chivalry of our chauffeurs.

They had all, even Tom, been quite pathetically kind and gentle during
and ever since the flight from Ghent. (I remember poor Newlands coming
up with his bottle of formamint just as we were preparing to leave
Ecloo.) It never occurred to us that there was anything ominous in this
mood.

Mrs. Torrence and I were just going to get into (I think) Newlands' car,
when we were aware