CHAPTER V
LORRAINE AND THE DEVASTATION
ONE learns to shrink from the great railway terminals in war time. On several occasions I left Paris by rail to visit the front, and each time the excitement of the prospect died at the ticket window. I think it is because these stations have witnessed too many departures for battle, too much of the tearing of warm life from warm life and the definitive rupture of romance, too many broken returns, too many shocked greetings.
My first introduction came not long after dawn of a grey morning. The foreign office had asked if I would like to visit Lorraine, suggesting that I take the day train for Nancy where a staff officer and an automobile would meet me. An elderly English Quaker, who was interested in Red Cross work and the rebuilding of devastated villages, joined me, and together we drove through the scarcely awakened streets to the Gare de l'Est. We entered to present our papers and accomplish the formalities that are necessary before one may take a ticket.
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