RETREAT
refugees besieging the station and the Germans are
at the gates. Take us to Boulogne/
I failed to persuade him. It was quite true, in any
case, that the cars were full. I abandoned my
belongings, forced a way through the flood of
refugees and tried to find places for my companions
and myself on the last train to leave the station.
A mounting tide of refugees besieged the coaches.
Each compartment held fifteen to twenty unfor-
tunates. Women who had stayed on the platform
were still passing tiny children through the windows.
At last, with the aid of a military official, they let us
into the luggage-van. It carried fifty metal boxes
containing the funds from evacuated stations and
banks, and watching over them, full of responsi-
bility, was the guard of the train. His hair was grey,
his body built for strength: he was calm and
vigorous.
'Nothing doing/ he cried to the refugees,
stretching his arms across the door of the van.. . .
"Nothing doing! Not in this one. . . . The finance
wagon this is. My orders are not to take anybody
and I'm not taking anybody . . . unless under special
instructions from the officer there. . . . My good
woman, I've got feelings all right. . * and I've got
children and grandchildren. . . . Only to-day it's not
my job to be sentimental but to look after these
finances: I shall stick to my orders whatever happens
and if any of you try to force this door you'll have
185