e it, Ursula Dearmer. Heavens! What
can the Military Power be thinking of? Car No. 2 took Dr. Wilson and
Mrs. Torrence. The Military Power, I suppose, has ordained this too. And
when I think of Mrs. Torrence's dream of getting into the greatest
possible danger, I am glad that the Commandant is with Ursula Dearmer.
We pledged our words, he and I, that danger and Ursula Dearmer should
never meet.

They all come back, impossibly safe. They are rather like children after
the party, too excited to give a lucid and coherent tale of what they've
done. My ambulance Day-Book stores the stuff from which reports and
newspaper articles are to be made. I note that Car No. 1 has brought
three wounded to Hospital I., and that Car No. 2 has brought four
wounded to Hospital II., also that a dum-dum bullet has been found in
the hand of one of the three. There is a considerable stir among the
surgeons over this bullet. They are vaguely gratified at its being found
in our hospital and not the other.

Little Janet McNeil and Mr. Riley and all the others who were left
behind have gone to bed in hopeless gloom. Even the bullet hasn't roused
them beyond the first tense moment.

I ask for ink, and dear Max has given me all his in his own ink-pot.

[_Monday, 28th._]

We have been here a hundred years.

Car No. 1 went out at eight-thirty this morning, with the Commandant and
Dr. Bird and Ursula Dearmer and Mr. Grierson and a Belgian Red Cross
guide. With Tom, the chauffeur, that makes six. Tom's face, as he sees
this party swarming on his car, is expressive of tumultuous passions.
Disgust predominates.

Their clothes seem stranger than ever by contrast with the severe
military khaki of the car. Dr. Bird has added to his civilian costume a
Belgian forage cap with a red tassel that hangs over his forehead. It
was given to him yesterday by way of homage to his courage and his
personal charm. But it makes him horribly vulnerable. The Chaplain,
standing out from the rest of the Corps in complete khaki, is an even
more inevitable mark for bullets. Tom stares at everybody with eyes of
violent inquiry. He still evidently wants to know whether we call
ourselves a field ambulance. He starts his car with movements of
exasperation and despair. We are to judge what his sense of discipline
must be since he consents to drive the thing at all.

The Commandant affects not to see Tom. Perhaps he really doesn't see
him.

It is just as well that he can