e on our way
back at a little place called Pont l'Abbesse, about 6.30, when the snow
came down in blinding gusts. With only two side lamps, and a pitch dark
night, the prospect of ever finding our way home seemed nil, and every
road we took was bordered by a deep canal, with nothing in the way of a
fence as protection. It was bitterly cold, and once we got completely
lost; three-quarters of an hour later finding ourselves at the same
cottage where we had previously asked the way!

At last we found a staff car that promised to give us a lead, and in
time we reached the main St. Omer road, finally getting back to
Pont-le-Beurre about 10 p.m. I 'phoned up to the Convoy to tell them I
was still in the land of the living, and after a bowl of hot soup sped
back to camp.

My hands were so cold I had to sit on them in turns, and as for feet, I
didn't seem to have any. Still it was "some run," and the next day I
spent a long time hosing off the thick clay which almost completely hid
the good Susan from sight.

Another temporary job we had was to drive an army sister (a sort of
female Military Landing Officer) to the boat every day, where she met
the sisters coming back from leave and directed them to the different
units and hospitals.

One of the results of the closing of Boulogne harbour was that instead
of the patients being evacuated straight to England we had to drive
them into Boulogne, where they were entrained for Havre! A terrible
journey, poor things. Twenty to twenty-four ambulances would set off to
do the thirty kilometres in convoy, led at a steady pace by the Section
Leader. These journeys took place three times a week, and often the men
would get bitterly cold inside the cars. If there was one puncture in
the Convoy we all had to stop till a spare wheel was put on. We eagerly
took the opportunity to get down and do stamping exercises and "cabby"
arms to try and get warm. To my utmost surprise, on one of these
occasions my four stretcher patients got up and danced in the road with
me. Why they were "liers" instead of "sitters" I can't think, as there
was not much wrong with them. _A propos_ I remember asking one night
when an ambulance train came in in the dark, "Are you liers or sitters
in here?" and one humorist scratched his head and replied, "I don't
rightly know, Sister, I've told a few in my time!" To return to our long
convoy journeys: once we had deposited our patients it was not
unnaturally the desire