pperless to boot.

While we were waiting for the 140th Ambulance Company to unload its
mules and ambulances we laid down upon the muddy sidewalks and watched
the powerful flashlights searching the sky for Boche airplanes.
Luneville was a favorite visiting place for such planes, and the
shattered buildings testified to the accuracy of their aim.

About 11 P. M. the column was formed and began to move on the long and
never-to-be-forgotten hike to Benney. Ambulance Company 139 was the last
marching company, with Ambulance Company 140 bringing up the rear. The
orders were no lights, and only men tagged sick would be allowed to ride
in the twelve mule ambulances.

Major Salisbury was in command of the train, and at 1 A. M. ordered a
halt of two hours. Some of the men unrolled their packs and wrapped
themselves in their blankets, while others laid down in the mud and
managed to get a little sleep, covered only by their raincoats. When the
column resumed the march several of the men were left sleeping
peacefully alongside of the road, against trees or upon piles of rocks.
Here we nearly lost Lieut. Bates, who fortunately awoke just as the last
ambulance was passing by.

It soon began to rain, and by 3:30 the men were splashing through a
regular downpour. When the orders to fall in were passed back, most of
the men would turn their backs, and give their faces a brief rest from
the stinging cuts of the rain. Others would sink down on the roadside,
regardless of mud or water. It was a weird looking lot of soldiers that
marched into Blainville, with raincoats thrown over their heads and
packs to prevent them, especially the latter, from becoming soaked with
rain. Many here found an empty hayloft and lost no time in getting to
sleep, leaving the column to struggle on without them.

As the eastern sky was beginning to show signs of the welcome daybreak,
the rain diminished to a light but uncomfortable drizzle. Slowly but
steadily the column moved on through the towns of Rehainville,
Haussonville and Velle-sur-Meuse. Upon entering each small town every
man in the train was hoping that that would be the end of the hike. The
morning of the 5th wore away, and as the wet and weary column continued
to leave town after town behind, the men came to the conclusion that we
were "lost again," and that we were doubling back toward Bayon, through
which they had passed the day before on the train.

Since daybreak straggling had become gener