Our journey took us through Orchies, Tournai, Leuze, Ath, Enghien and Hal to Waterbosch, a small village some six miles south of Brussels. The journey, made in convoy, was tedious, and the R.A.S.C. drivers, who had made many similar trips during the past three days with little rest, were very exhausted.

We arrived at Waterbosch at 0700 hours, having experienced ineffective machine-gunning by enemy aircraft during the early morning, most of the bullets falling just to the rear of the C.O.’s car. It was a gloriously bright spring day, and the billets allotted to us were good, in spite of the fact that the village had not yet been evacuated. Company Commanders spent

the day reconnoitring defensive positions 5.E. of Brussels, the rest of us were able to enjoy considerable leisure in the sunshine and watch the dog fights high up in the clear blue sky.

The country was refreshing after the bleakness of the north of France. It was almost as flat, but luxuriantly fertile, and heavily cultivated. Many glasshouses filled with the vines which bore the excellent grapes which used to be readily obtainable in this country before the war were locked up and deserted. Everything was so neat and tidy and prosperous, and the houses had a clean and doll’s house simplicity about them, It made one’s heart ache to think of such calm simplicity being devastated by war.

We soon saw a sight which was to become tragically familiar—columns of refugees. Carts would be loaded high with household goods, the very old and the very young riding on top, and the hale and hearty trudging along by the side. At present, all was orderly ; later we were to see more bedraggled columns limping along carrying impossible loads, sometimes two of them passing each other going in opposite directions, with no destination in view and only the common desire to get away from the hated enemy. And on occasions, these wretched columns would show signs of the vicious and heartless enemy air attack – dead and wounded men, women and children and ever. greater confusion.

But in Waterbosch itself, all was still comparatively peaceful. The inhabitants welcomed us as their deliverers, and indeed we thought that we would be able to stop the invaders. There was very little apparent apprehension, except during the frequent air raids in the vicinity. The Nazi planes would zoom over, sometimes chased by ours. Now and then an enemy aircraft would dive to earth, and the local inhabitants would clap their hands with delight thinking that it had gone to its doom ; we hardly liked to tell them that it was probably dive-bombing a similar village to theirs.