t, not least for Dr. Inglis and
the members of her Units. "At first we passed a few carts, then at some
distance more and more, till we found ourselves in an unending
procession of peasants with all their worldly goods piled on those
vehicles.... This procession seemed difficult to pass, but as time went
on, added to it, came the Roumanian army retreating--hundreds of guns,
cavalry, infantry, ambulances, Red Cross carts, motor-kitchens, and
wounded on foot--a most extraordinary scene. The night was inky black;
the only lights were our own head-lights and those of the ambulance
behind us, but they revealed a sad and never-to-be-forgotten picture.
Our driver was quite wonderful; she sat unmoved, often for half an hour
at a time. There was a block, and we had to wait while the yelling,
frantic mob did what they could to get into some sort of order; then we
would move on for ten minutes, and then stop again; it was like a dream
or a play; it certainly was a tragedy. No one spoke; we just waited and
watched it all; to us it was a spectacle, to these poor homeless people
it was a terrible reality."[18]

At 11.30 that Sunday night Dr. Inglis and the party with her arrived at
Caramarat. The straw beds and the fairytale dinner, and the cheery voice
of Dr. Inglis calling them to partake of it, will never be forgotten by
these Scottish women.

On arrival at Caramarat Dr. Inglis had asked for a room for her Unit and
"a good meat meal." She was told a room was waiting for them, but a good
meal was an impossibility; the town had been evacuated; there had been
no food to be got for days.

"Though it was only a bare room with straw in heaps on the floor and
green blankets to wrap ourselves in, to cold, shivering beings like
ourselves it seemed all that heart could desire.... Never shall I forget
the delight of lying down on the straw, the dry warm blanket rolled
round me. Then a most wonderful thing happened--the door opened and
several soldiers entered with the most beautiful meal I ever ate. It was
like a fairytale. Where did it come from? The lovely soup--the real
Russian _borsh_--and roast turkey and plenty of bread and _chi_. We ate
like wolves, and I can remember so distinctly sitting up in my straw
nest, with my blanket round me, and hearing Dr. Inglis's cheery voice
saying, 'Isn't this better than having to start and cook a meal?' She
was the most extraordinary person; when she said she must have a thing,
she got it, and it