The Central Red Cross Bureau sent a message, asking if three of us
would go back with him. _Would we!_ Was it not the chance we had been
longing for. In ten minutes Sister Elsie, Sister Grace and I were in
that automobile speeding to Charleroi. I had packed quickly into a
portmanteau all I thought I was likely to want in the way of uniform and
other clothing, with a few medical comforts for the men, and a little
tea and cocoa for ourselves. The two Sisters had done likewise--so we
were rather horrified when we got to Hal, where we had to change
automobiles, the Burgomaster said he could not possibly take any of our
luggage, as we must get into quite a small car--the big one having to
return to Brussels. He assured us that our things would be sent on in a
few days--so back to Brussels went my portmanteau with all my clean
aprons and caps and everything else, and I did not see it again for
nearly a week. But such is war!
We waited nearly an hour at Hal while our German permits were examined,
and then went off in the small car. It was heart-breaking to see the
scenes of desolation as we passed along the road. Jumet--the
working-class suburb of Charleroi--was entirely burnt down, there did
not seem to be one house left intact.
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