"We spent the next two hours cruising slowly about the streets, waiting for the next shells to come, and then going to see if any one had been hit. I had three dead men and ten terribly wounded—soldiers, civilians, women. The next day I was glad to be off for the quiet front where things happen in the open, and women and children are not murdered."
"Seven shells fell within a radius of 200 yards of the cars, with pieces of brick and hot splinters."
A French official said of the Dunkirk bombardment:
"I was at most of the scenes, but always found one of your ambulances before me."
A Moroccan lay grievously wounded in a Dunkirk hospital. One of our boys sat down beside the cot.
"Touchez le main," said the wounded man, feebly. He was lonely.
The boys stayed with him for a time. The man was too far spent to talk, but every little while he said:
"Touchez le main."
Through the darkness of his pain, he knew that he had a companion there. The young foreigner at his side was a friend, and cared that he suffered. It is difficult to put in public print what one comes to know about these young men of ours, for they are giving something besides efficient driving. I have seen men like Bob Toms at work, and I know that every jolt of the road hurts them because it hurts their wounded soldier.