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understood that our departure was to be delayed 12 hours I joined a party with aspirations to hear "Madame Butterfly" at the Opéra Comique Saturday evening. And after my fauteuil was safe in the hand I received warning by a chance meeting with one of the comrades that we were leaving on the evening train. So I had to leave my beautiful Paris with its soothing and soul-satisfying playing to my nature, accepting a few gifts from the Technology Auxilary, and a jolly-serious dinner party at Roccardis before dashing by taxi to the Gare de l'Est in the nick of time to catch my mates. From Liverpool to London at night was a nightmare but from Paris to the American front was a welsh-rarebits fiends' dream. The coaches, English and French alike, are not conducive to comfort. Also the darkened lights, the frequent stops, the many soldiers cluttering the air-space of the corridors was not such as to