IT was a delightful spring evening. Here and there against the crimson of the sky a series of tiny white cloudlets, amidst which an aeroplane flaunted homewards after its day's reconnaissance, proclaiming the presence of enemy anti-aircraft guns. The Occasional distant boom of a gun accentuated the calm serenity of the courtyard. In the oldworld garden of the chateau a couple of Nursing Sisters sauntered in quiet retirement. The eddying stream encircling the grounds gurgled merrily behind the garden wall. The click of farmyard wheels on the road running meadowwards, the lowing of cows, and the chatter of children birds'-nesting, preached peace. Peafowl on the chateau balustrade shrieked shrilly to each other; the cackle of the pond and the lazy flapping of a swan's wings echoed fitfully on the still air. Surely rumours of imminent war, of a great battle, bloody, epoch-making, were but myths!

The Boy, sauntering along the stream in admiration of budding verdure, drifted into a farmyard. The sight of geese reminded him of his duties as mess caterer. Ration bully beef grows wearisome. A buxom woman, with her young daughters smiling a

welcome, listened to his doubtful French. There, amongst half a hundred hens, waddled a fat white goose. A bargain must be struck and the deed would be done.

In a moment the farmyard was in an uproar. The three women rushing, with yells of encouragement to each other amidst the ducks and hens and geese, pursued their prey. The goose dodged valiantly. The Boy was enjoying himself thoroughly. In the end the goose was captured.

But the real end was not yet. In the kitchen sat an old grandmother, chair-ridden, spectacled, and wrinkled with the furrows of uncountable years. She, it appeared, was still in command. Into ber outstretched arms was placed the wildly struggling bird. With eyes tight shut and spectacles knocked about by the animal's flapping wings, she deftly poised the victim, and then gave her decision: "Eight pounds! One franc a pound."

The Boy closed instantly.

Florrs, having hungered for architecture, was returning home from a church hunt in the cool of the evening. Porteous, with a dictionary, laboured at perfecting his knowledge language. forget things.

of the French It helped him to

Half a dozen shots in the distance, answered by our own guns, caused us to pause, listening. Had it begun already? No. All was again still. Only the occasional exchange of compliments.

"Well," said Master at last. "I was warned three days ago to prepare. This is the third night. I am for bed. That there will be no bed to-morrow night I'll bet dollars to doughnuts. Good night."

"Good night, sir," said the night-duty N.C.O. in the hall.

"Good night, Sergeant," answered Master. "And, look here, warn all the officers' servants that they must be ready to fall in to make a stretchercarrying party as soon as they are required. I think there will be trouble about daylight."

"Very good, sir," replied the sergeant cheerily.

An owl hooted discordantly in the shadows of the garden. A star-shell from the German trenches lit up the skyline. Then all was again still, and dark.

We breakfasted as usual, and had finished before the Artillery slackened. All was in readiness. In about two to three hours the first wounded might be expected. They would be mostly walking eases which, in the first Infantry attack, had fallen on leaving our advanced trenches. Passed through the hands of our Regimental Aid Posts and Field Ambulances, they would be collected from the latter by the Motor Ambulance Convoy, and be shoved along rapidly, in order to make room for the serious lying-down cases which required hand-carriage from the field, and would therefore of necessity arrive later.

We were not out in our calculations. A Motor Convoy, loaded to its full capacity, rolled into the compound as expected. As each car reached the verandah, its contents were checked by the tallies which had been attached to the wounded in the Field Ambulances. If the case required immediate operation he entered the chateau; if trivial, the car continued its journey to No. 1 Section. A convoy of twenty cars can carry 150 "sitters" or eighty "liers."

We needed no telegraphic or confidential news regarding the progress of the battle. Information in detail was freely given by those who ought to have known best. With due allowance made for the excitement and bias of wounded raconteurs, one could easily piece together the story.

We learned that our own Artillery fire had been hellish,

and that the first line of enemy trenches had been taken with a rush. Any news beyond that was obviously of doubtful accuracy. No man yet arrived had been present after the first rush. Later news would reach us, hour by hour, as each convoy deposited its freight at our doors. We thought of London, of the expectancy there, of widows still ignorant of their condition, of many things best forgotten, and of many others spelling glory and honour.

The wounded were gloriously cheerful. Before dawn they had stood to arms, and with fixed bayonets waited for the signal which to each individual meant death or victory. They were delighted with the result, but by no means too excited to eat or sleep.

Orderlies and Nursing Sisters did not spare themselves. The cooks were ready with literal baths of soup, meat, and vegetables, calling for consumption. The wounded rapidly forgot their bodily injuries, fed ravenously, smoked, rolled over, and slept.

But there were those even amongst the first arrivals who could eat little and sleep not at all. The Sisters washed their wound - stained faces, slipped off their clothes, and issued clean shirts. The officers examining wounds shook their heads. Compound fractures of shoulders, shattered elbows, and here and there a limb hanging anyhow, need more than a first field-dressing.

The serious wards downstairs were, as yet, not full, but were rapidly filling. The

next convoy would overflow into the conservatory. Florrs and the Boy labelled their cases for operation in order of urgency. The operating-room sergeant boiled his instruments.

The second string of motors arrived with alarming rapidity, and the officer in charge of it brought news of many more to follow.

Master, stationed on the verandah, studied his tally. If he had made no mistake, No. 1 Section could still accept 37, and Porteous at No. 2 had room for 31.

Amongst the new arrivals there were many serious cases. The chateau would be quite full when these were admitted. With the conservatory still up his sleeve, Master delivered his verdict to the inquiring Motor Convoy officer.

"You can bring another 50 lying-down cases," he said. "Then you must switch off to the next Casualty Clearing Station lower down. In the meantime I will wire for an ambulance train. Give me a clear hour, and then come and see me again."

"How are things going?" asked Florrs, wiping his perspiring forehead with a bare forearm. His hands at the moment were not in a condition for personal service.

"We have taken the second line of trenches, and according to a N.C.O. who has just arrived, were in their reserve trenches when he was wounded," replied Master.

"Good!" cried Florrs, slipping back towards the operating theatre.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Master, "Ambulance Train in half an hour!" Scribbling on a leaf from his pocket-book, he paused to calculate. "H'mhow many are fit to travel? Here, orderly, deliver this message at the Headquarters of the Motor Convoy. As soon as the train is in you will warn the Convoy to report here. I have 50 lying-down cases and over 200 'sitters' ready to entrain."

"Very good, sir," answered the man, running down the

avenue.

In a moment the news had spread through the building. Every case capable of facing a twelve-hour journey in a train was to be dressed, fed, and ready within half an hour. Each one must bear a tally correctly stating the nature of the wound and what had been done for him, Those unfit to move must be carefully segregated. A few would never move again. Others needed a few days.

The condition of affairs at No. 1 and No. 2 Section had, so far, been taken for granted. No news meant good news. Master knew the capabilities of the Gael and Porteous to a nicety. An empty Motor Ambulance being at hand, there was now an opportunity to visit them.

The car wasted no time. Speed limits did not apply.

The Gael, his hair wildly on end, and in his shirt-sleeves and apron, was in the thick

in the schoolroom had been utilised, and under tarpaulins in the yard the cooks had found a resting-place. Orderlies, washing and dressing wounds with the knowledge which only experience can give, worked independently. Those cases requiring special advice were set aside for the officer. The Gael's physical strength was notorious. would need every ounce of it before he had finished.

He

A mumbling voice hampered by bandages rose above the din.

"All right, matey, want a smoke do you," answered an orderly with his mouth full of safety - pins. "Wait until I fix this Jock's leg and I'll give you a fag. Keep smiling, cocky!'

Master, summing up the situation in a glance, entered the doorway. He saw that all was well. It took a lot to rattle the Gael. The day had only begun.

"Train coming," he announced gaily. "I will send you cars for as many as you can safely load up. Be ready in half an hour."

"Right, sir," replied the Gael, pausing to rub his nose with a bare elbow.

Master had not waited for the answer. He was off at full speed round the corner by the church to wards No. 2. The sight of the church gave him sudden food for thought. The curé had promised to lend it in case of need. The good work done by the church at the Aisne was not forgotten.