I need not have worried. Except that once we
killed a brown chicken, and that another time we almost
skidded into the canal, the journey was uneventful,
almost calm. One thing cheered me—all
the other machines were going as fast as mine.
A car that eased up its pace would be rammed from
behind probably. I am like the English—I
prefer a charge to a rearguard engagement.
My pass took me into Dunkirk.
It was dusk by that time. I felt rather lost
and alone. I figured out what time it was at
home. I wished some one would speak English.
And I hated being regarded as a spy every mile or
so, and depending on a slip of paper as my testimonial
of respectability. The people I knew were lunching
about that time, or getting ready for bridge or the
matinee. I wondered what would happen to me if
the pass blew out of the orderly’s hands and
was lost in the canal.
The chauffeur had been instructed to take me to the
Mairie a great dark building of stone halls
and stairways, of sentries everywhere, of elaborate
officers and much ceremony. But soon, in a great
hall of the old building piled high with army supplies,
I was talking to General Melis, and my troubles were
over. A kindly and courteous gentleman, he put
me at my ease at once. More than that, he spoke
some English. He had received letters from England
about me, and had telegraphed that he would meet me
at Calais. He had, indeed, taken the time out
of his busy day to go himself to Calais, thirty miles
by motor, to meet me.
I was aghast. “The boat went to Boulogne,”
I explained. “I had no idea, of course,
that you would be there.”
“Now that you are here,” he said, “it
is all right. But—exactly what can
I do for you?”
So I told him. He listened attentively.
A very fine and gallant soldier he was, sitting in
that great room in the imposing uniform of his rank;
a busy man, taking a little time out of his crowded
day to see an American woman who had come a long way
alone to see this tragedy that had overtaken his country.
Orderlies and officers came and went; the Mairie
was a hive of seething activities. But he listened
patiently.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked when
I had finished.
“I should like to stay here, if I may.
And from here, of course, I should like to get to
the front.”
“Where?”
“Can I get to Ypres?”
“It is not very safe.”
I proclaimed instantly and loudly that I was as brave
as a lion; that I did not know fear. He smiled.
But when the interview was over it was arranged that
I should have a permis de sejour to stay in
Dunkirk, and that on the following day the general
himself and one of his officers having an errand in
that direction would take me to Ypres.
That night the town of Dunkirk was bombarded by some
eighteen German aeroplanes.
