d.

Read Lady Decies' account again, and try to place your own son on that
stone floor on the station platform. Think of that wounded boy,
sitting for hours in a train, and choking to death with diphtheria.

This is the thing we call war.

CHAPTER XV

RUNNING THE BLOCKADE

From my journal written during an attack of influenza at the Gare
Maritime in Calais:

Last night I left England on the first boat to cross the Channel after
the blockade. I left London at midnight, with the usual formality of
being searched by Scotland Yard detectives. The train was empty and
very cold.

"At half-past two in the morning we reached Folkestone. I was quite
alone, and as I stood shivering on the quay waiting to have my papers
examined a cold wind from the harbour and a thin spray of rain made
the situation wretched. At last I confronted the inspector, and was
told that under the new regulations I should have had my Red Cross
card viseed in Paris. It was given back to me with a shrug, but my
passport was stamped.

"There were four men round the table. My papers and I were inspected
by each of the four in turn. At last I was through. But to my disgust
I found I was not to be allowed on the Calais boat. There was one
going to Boulogne and carrying passengers, but Calais was closed up
tight, except to troops and officers.

"I looked at the Boulogne boat. It was well lighted and cheerful.
Those few people who had come down from London on the train were
already settling themselves for the crossing. They were on their way
to Paris and peace.

"I did not want Paris and certainly I did not want peace. I had
telegraphed to Dunkirk and expected a military car to meet me at
Calais. Once across, I knew I could neither telegraph nor telephone to
Dunkirk, all lines of communication being closed to the public. I felt
that I might be going to be ill. I would not be ill in Boulogne.

"At the end of the quay, dark and sinister, loomed the Calais boat. I
had one moment of indecision. Then I picked up my suitcase and started
toward it in the rain. Luckily the gangway was out. I boarded the boat
with as much assurance as I could muster, and was at once accosted by
the chief officer.

"I produced my papers. Some of them were very impressive. There were
letters from the French Ambassador in London, Monsieur Cambon, to
leading French generals. There was a letter to Sir John French and
another letter expediting me through the customs, bu