The dressing station of the Ambulance Corps was one of their most daring and successful ventures.  At first it was placed close to the trenches and just behind the railway station, in the house of the village chemist.  At least there were evidences in the existence of portions of walls, roof, and floors that it had once been a house, and the chemist had left a few bottles behind to indicate his trade.  But I do not think that anyone but a member of the Corps would have ever thought of living there.  There was plenty o ventilation, of course, since there were no windows left, part of the roof had gone, and the walls were riddled with holes through which shells had passed clean across the building.  It could hardly be described as a desirable residence, but it had one incomparable advantage:  it possessed a cellar.  A couple of mattresses and a few blankets converted it into a palace, whilst the limits of luxury were reached when there arrived a new full-sized enamelled bath which one of the soldiers had discovered and hastened to present as a mark of gratitude.  There was no water-supply, of course, and I do not think that there was a plug, but those were mere trifles.  How such a white elephant ever found its way to Pervyse none of us will ever know.  I do not believe that there was another for twenty miles around.

In this strange residence—­it could hardly be called a house—­ lived two of the lady members of the Corps.  They were relieved from time to time, two others coming out to take their places, and every day they had visits from the ambulances which came out to pick up the wounded.  A room on the ground floor was used during the day, partly as a living-room, partly as a surgery, and here were brought any soldiers wounded in this part of the lines.  At night they retired to the cellar, as the house itself was far too dangerous.  The Germans shelled Pervyse almost every night, and sometimes in the day as well, and this particular house was the most exposed of any in the town.  But shells were not the only trouble, and when a few weeks later the cellars were filled with water, it was evident that other quarters must be found.

Pervyse was of course entirely deserted by its inhabitants, but it could scarcely be called dull.  We went out one afternoon to see what was going on, and found a party of the Corps at lunch.  They seemed to be in particularly good spirits, and they told us that the house had just been struck by a shell, that the big Daimler ambulance had been standing outside, and that its bonnet had been riddled by the shrapnel bullets.  We went outside to see for ourselves, and there we found a large hole in the side of the house, through which a shell had entered a room across the passage from that occupied by the Corps, who had fortunately chosen the lee-side.  The big six-cylinder Daimler had been moved into a shed, and there it stood with twenty or more holes in its bonnet, but otherwise uninjured.  By a stroke of luck the driver had gone inside the house for a moment or he would undoubtedly have been killed.  It is fortunate that the Corps is possessed of such a keen sense of humour.