_Letter to Miss Macnaughtan's Sisters._

DR. HECTOR MUNRO'S AMBULANCE,
FURNES, BELGIUM,
_23 October._

MY DEAR PEOPLE,

I think I may get this posted by a war correspondent who is going home,
but I never know whether my letters reach you or not, for yours, if you
write them, never reach me. I can't begin to tell you all that is
happening, and it is really beyond what one is able to describe. The
tragedy of pain is the thing that is most evident, and there is the roar
and the racket of it and the everlasting sound of guns. The war seems to
me now to mean nothing but torn limbs and stretchers. All the doctors
say that never have they seen men so wounded.

The day that we got here was the day that Dixmude was bombarded, and our
ten ambulances (motor) went out to fetch in wounded. These were shoved
in anywhere, dying and dead, and our men went among the shells with
buildings falling about them and took out all they could. Except where
the fire is hottest one women goes with each car. So far I have been
doing ward work, but one of the doctors is taking me on an ambulance
this afternoon. Most of the women who go are very good chauffeurs
themselves, so they are chosen before a person who can't drive. They
are splendid creatures, and funk nothing, and they are there to do a
little dressing if it is needed.

The firing is awfully heavy to-day. They say it is the big French guns
that have got up. Two of our ambulances have had miraculous escapes