"Salle-à-manager,"
Jubécourt.
We had been only two days in Vadélaincourt when orders came to move on to Jubécourt, a village about four miles away. So off we went. Now we have all the cars lined up on the main square, and, as at Longeville, we are obliged to sleep in them because of the rats in the stable where the Frenchmen stay.
It is still very cold. Last night after most of us were in bed, Frazer put on his pajamas just to see how they felt again. But he got so cold in doing so that he crawled out onto the roof of his ambulance, intending to exercise a bit up there. The space was too limited, however, for any violent exertions; and so when he looked over to the next car, just six feet away and saw beyond it all the other machines extending in a long row almost to the road, he decided to do a little steeple-chasing. He began by landing on Cookie's car with a terrific thump, and continued on his rather uncertain journey all the way down the twelve ambulances. It may have been great fun for him but it completely ruined the peace of mind of the occupants of the other cars, for most of them were sound asleep and didn't seem to enjoy
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