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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Diary of a Nursing Sister on the Western Front, 1914-1915 + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: July 26, 2006 [EBook #18910] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIARY OF A NURSING SISTER *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Graeme Mackreth and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h2>Diary of a Nursing Sister<br /> +on the Western Front</h2> + +<h3>1914-1915</h3> + +<p class="indented" style="margin-top: 5em;"> +"Naught broken save this body, lost but breath.<br /> +Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there,<br /> +But only agony, and that has ending;<br /> +And the worst friend and enemy is but Death."<br /> +</p> + + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 10em;"> +William Blackwood and Sons<br /> +Edinburgh and London<br /> +1915<br /> +</p> + + + +<h4>CONTENTS.</h4> + + +<p> +<a href="#I"><b>I. WAITING FOR ORDERS, AUGUST 18, 1914, TO +SEPTEMBER 14, 1914 </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +The voyage out—Havre—Leaving Havre—R.M.S.P. +"Asturias"—St Nazaire—Orders at +last.<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#II"><b>II. LE MANS—WOUNDED FROM THE AISNE—SEPTEMBER +15, 1914, TO OCTOBER 11, 1914 </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +Station duty—On train duty—Orders again—Waiting +to go—Still at Le Mans—No.— Stationary<br /> +Hospital—Off at last—The Swindon of +France.<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#III"><b>III. ON NO.— AMBULANCE TRAIN (1)—FIRST +EXPERIENCES—OCTOBER 13, 1914, TO<br /> +OCTOBER 19, 1914 </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +Ambulance Train—Under fire—Tales of the +Retreat—Life on the Train.<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#IV"><b>IV. ON NO.— AMBULANCE TRAIN (2)—FIRST +BATTLE OF YPRES—OCTOBER 20, 1914, TO<br /> +NOVEMBER 17, 1914 </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +Rouen—First Battle of Ypres—At Ypres—A +rest—A General Hospital.<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#V"><b>V. ON NO.— AMBULANCE TRAIN (3)—BRITISH +AND INDIANS—NOVEMBER 18, 1914, TO<br /> +DECEMBER 17, 1914. </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +The Boulogne siding—St Omer—Indian +soldiers—His Majesty King George—Lancashire<br /> +men on the War—Hazebrouck—Bailleul—French +engine-drivers—Sheepskin coats—A<br /> +village in N.E. France—Headquarters.<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#VI"><b>VI. ON NO.— AMBULANCE TRAIN (4)—CHRISTMAS +AND NEW YEAR ON THE TRAIN—DECEMBER<br /> +18, 1914, TO JANUARY 3, 1915 </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +The Army and the King—Mufflers—Christmas +Eve—Christmas on the train—Princess<br /> +Mary's present—The trenches in winter—"A +typical example"—New Year's Eve at Rouen—The<br /> +young officers.<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#VII"><b>VII. ON NO.— AMBULANCE TRAIN (5)—WINTER +ON THE TRAIN AND IN THE TRENCHES—JANUARY<br /> +7, 1915, TO FEBRUARY 6, 1915 </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +The Petit Vitesse siding—Uncomplainingness +of Tommy—Painting the train—A painful convoy—The<br /> +"Yewlan's" watch—"Officer dressed in +bandages"—Sotteville—Versailles—The Palais<br /> +Trianon—A walk at Rouen—The German view, +and the English view—'Punch'—"When you<br /> +return Conqueror"—K.'s new Army.<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#VIII"><b>VIII. ON NO.— AMBULANCE TRAIN (6)—ROUEN—NEUVE +CHAPELLE—ST ELOI—FEBRUARY 7,<br /> +1915, TO MARCH 31, 1915 </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +The Indians—St Omer—The Victoria League—Poperinghe—A +bad load—Left behind—Rouen again—An "off" spell—<i>En<br /> +route</i> to Êtretat—Sotteville—Neuve Chapelle—St Eloi—The +Indians—Spring in N.W. France—The Convalescent Home—Kitchener's +boys.<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#IX"><b>IX. WITH NO.— FIELD AMBULANCE (1)—BILLETS: +LIFE AT THE BACK OF THE FRONT—APRIL 2,<br /> +1915, TO APRIL 29, 1915 </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +Good Friday and Easter, 1915—The Maire's +Château—A walk to Beuvry—The new billet—The<br /> +guns—A Taube—The Back of the Front—A +soldier's funeral—German machine-guns—Gas<br /> +fumes—The Second Battle of Ypres.<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#X"><b>X. WITH NO.— FIELD AMBULANCE (2)—FESTUBERT, +MAY 9 AND 16—MAY 6, 1915, TO MAY<br /> +26, 1915 </b></a> <br /> +<br /> +The noise of war—Preparation—Sunday, +May 9—The barge—The officers' dressing-station—Charge<br /> +of the Black Watch, May 9—Festubert, May 16—The French +Hospital—A bad night—Shelled out—Back at a Clearing<br /> +Hospital—"For duty at a Base Hospital."<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I.</h2> + +<h4>Waiting for Orders</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>August 18, 1914, to September 14, 1914</i></p> + + + + +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Troops to our England true</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Faring to Flanders,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">God be with all of you</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And your commanders."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;" class="smcap">—G.W. Brodribb</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I.</h2> + +<h4>Waiting for Orders.</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>August 18, 1914, to September 14, 1914.</i></p> + +<p class="center">The voyage out—Havre—Leaving Havre—R.M.S.P. "Asturias"—St +Nazaire—Orders at last.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">S.S. City of Benares</span> (<i>Troopship</i>).</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, 8 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, August 18th.</i>—Orders just gone round that +there are to be no lights after dark, so I am hasting to write this.</p> + +<p>We had a great send-off in Sackville Street in our motor-bus, and went +on board about 2 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> From then till 7 we watched the embarkation +going on, on our own ship and another. We have a lot of R.E. and R.F.A. and +A.S.C., and a great many horses and pontoons and ambulance waggons: the +horses were very difficult to embark, poor dears. It was an exciting scene +all the time. I don't remember anything quite so thrilling as our start +off from Ireland. All the 600 khaki men on board, and every one on every +other ship, and all the crowds on the quay, and in boats and on +lighthouses, waved and yelled. Then we and the officers and the men, +severally, had the King's proclamation read out to us about doing our +duty for our country, and God blessing us, and how the King is +following our every movement.</p> + +<p>We are now going to snatch up a very scratch supper and turn in, only +rugs and blankets.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, August 19th.</i>—We are having a lovely calm and sunny +voyage—slowed down in the night for a fog. I had a berth by an open +port-hole, and though rather cold with one blanket and a rug +(dressing-gown in my trunk), enjoyed it very much—cold sea bath in the +morning. We live on oatmeal biscuits and potted meat, with chocolate and +tea and soup squares, some bread and butter sometimes, and cocoa at +bed-time.</p> + +<p>There is a routine by bugle-call on troopships, with a guard, police, +and fatigues. The Tommies sleep on bales of forage in the after +well-deck and all over the place. We have one end of the 1st class cabin +forrard, and the officers have the 2nd class aft for sleeping and meals, +but there is a sociable blend on deck all day. Two medical officers here +were both in South Africa at No. 7 when I was (Captains in those days), +and we have had great cracks on old times and all the people we knew. +One is commanding a Field Ambulance and goes with the fighting line. +There are 200 men for Field Ambulances on board. They don't carry +Sisters, worse luck, only Padres.</p> + +<p>We had an impromptu service on deck this afternoon; I played the +hymns,—never been on a voyage yet without being let in for that. It was +run by the three C. of E. Padres and the Wesleyan hand in hand: the +latter has been in the Nile Expedition of '98 and all through South +Africa. We had Mission Hymns roared by the Tommies, and then a C. of E. +Padre gave a short address—quite good. The Wesleyan did an extempore +prayer, rather well, and a very nice huge C. of E. man gave the +Blessing. Now they are having a Tommies' concert—a talented boy at the +piano.</p> + +<p>At midday we passed a French cruiser, going the opposite way. They waved +and yelled, and we waved and yelled. We are out of sight of English or +French coast now. I believe we are to be in early to-morrow morning, and +will have a long train journey probably, but nobody knows anything for +certain except where we land—Havre.</p> + +<p>It seems so long since we heard anything about the war, but it is only +since yesterday morning. (The concert is rather distracting, and the +wind is getting up—one of the Tommies has an angelic black puppy on +his lap, with a red cross on its collar, and there is a black cat +about.)</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, August 20th</i>, 5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, <i>Havre</i>.—We got in about 9 +o'clock this morning. Havre is a very picturesque town, with very high +houses, and a great many docks and quays, and an enormous amount of +shipping. The wharves were as usual lined with waving yelling crowds, +and a great exchange of Vive l'Angleterre from them, and Vive la France +from us went on, and a lusty roar of the Marseillaise from us. During +the morning the horses and pontoons and waggons were disembarked, and +the R.E. and Field Ambulances went off to enormous sheds on the wharf. +We went off in a taxi in batches of five to the Convent de St Jeanne +d'Arc, an enormous empty school, totally devoid of any furniture except +crucifixes! Luckily the school washhouse has quite good basins and taps, +and we are all camping out, three in a room, to sleep on the floor, as +our camp kit isn't available. No one knows if we shall be here one +night, or a week, or for ever! It is a glorious place, with huge high +rooms, and huge open casements, and broad staircases and halls, windows +looking over the town to the sea. We are high up on a hill. There's no +food here, so we sit on the floor and make our own breakfast and tea, +and go to a very swanky hotel for lunch and dinner. We are billeted here +for quarters, and at the hotel for meals.</p> + +<p>A room full of mattresses has just been discovered to our joy, and we +have all hauled one up to our rooms, so we shall be in luxury.</p> + +<p>Just got a French paper and seen the Pope is dead, and a very +enthusiastic account of the British troops at Dunkerque, their +marvellous organisation, their cheerfulness, and their behaviour.</p> + +<p>Just seen on the Official War News placarded in the town that the +Germans have crossed the Meuse between Liège and Namur, and the Belgians +are retiring on to Antwerp. The Allies must buck up.</p> + +<p>The whole town is flying flags since the troops began to come in; all +the biggest shops and buildings fly all four of the Allies.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, August 21st.</i>—Intercession Day at home. There is a beautiful +chapel in the Convent.</p> + +<p>There is almost as much censoring about the movement of the French +troops in the French papers as there is about ours in the English, and +not a great deal about the movements of the Germans.</p> + +<p>There are 43 Sisters belonging to No.— General Hospital on the floor +below us camping out in the same way—86 altogether in the building, +one wing of which is the Sick Officers' Hospital of No.— G.H.</p> + +<p>The No.— people are moving up the line to-night. It will take a few +days to get No.— together, and then we shall move on at night. The +Colonel knows where to, but he has not told Matron; she thinks it will +be farther up than Amiens or Rheims, where two more have already gone, +but it is all guess-work. I expect No.— from C—— is in Belgium. (It +was at Amiens and had to leave in a hurry.)</p> + +<p>The whole system of Field Medical Service has altered since South +Africa. The wounded are picked up on the field by the <i>regimental +stretcher-bearers</i>, who are generally the band, trained in First Aid and +Stretcher Drill. They take them to the Bearer Section of the <i>Field +Ambulance</i> (which used to be called Field Hospital), who take them to +the Tent Section of the same Field Ambulance, who have been getting the +<i>Dressing Station</i> ready with sterilisers, &c., while the Bearer Section +are fetching them from the regimental stretcher-bearers. They are all +drilled to get this ready in twenty minutes in tents, but it takes +longer in farmhouses. The Field Ambulance then takes them in ambulance +waggons (with lying down and sitting accommodation) to the <i>Clearing +Hospital</i>, with beds, and returns empty to the Dressing Station. From +the Clearing Hospital they go on to the <i>Stationary Hospital</i>—200 +beds—which is on a railway, and finally in hospital trains to the +<i>General Hospital</i>, their last stopping-place before they get shipped +off to <i>Netley</i> and all the English hospitals. The General Hospitals are +the only ones at present to carry Sisters; 500 beds is the minimum, and +they are capable of expanding indefinitely.</p> + +<p>There is a large staff of harassed-looking landing officers here, with +A.M.L.O. on a white armband for the medical people; a great many +troopships are coming from Southampton; you hear them booing their +signals in the harbour all night and day.</p> + +<p>I've had my first letter from England, from a patient at ——. The Field +Service post-card is quite good as a means of communication, but +frightfully tantalising from our point of view.</p> + +<p>We had a very good night on our mattresses, but it was rather cold +towards morning with only one rug.</p> + +<p>They have a Carter-Paterson motor-van for the Military mail-cart at the +M.P.O., and two Tommies sit by a packing-case with a slit in the lid for +the letter-box.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, August 22nd.</i>—The worst has happened. No.— is to stop at +Havre; in camp three miles out. So No.— and No.— are both staying +here.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile to-day Nos.—, —, and— have all arrived; 130 more +Sisters besides the 86 already here are packed into this Convent, +camping out in dining-halls and schoolrooms and passages. The big Chapel +below and the wee Chapel on this floor seem to be the only unoccupied +places now.</p> + +<p>Havre is a big base for the France part of our Expeditionary Force. +Troopships are arriving every day, and every fighting man is being +hurried up to the Front, and they cannot block the lines and trains with +all these big hospitals yet.</p> + +<p>The news from the Front looks bad to-day—Namur under heavy fire, and +the Germans pressing on Antwerp, and the French chased out of Lorraine.</p> + +<p>Everybody is hoping it doesn't mean staying here permanently, but you +never know your luck. It all depends what happens farther up, and of +course one might have the luck to be added to a hospital farther up to +fill up casualties among Sisters or if more were wanted.</p> + +<p>The base hospitals, of course, are always filling up from up country +with men who may be able to return to duty, and acute or hopeless cases +who have to be got well enough for a hospital ship for home.</p> + +<p>There is to be a Requiem Mass to-morrow at Notre Dame for those who have +been killed in the war, and the whole nave and choir is reserved for +officials and Red Cross people. It is a most beautiful church, now hung +all over with the four flags of the Allies. An old woman in the church +this morning asked us if we were going to the Blessés, and clasped our +hands and blessed us and wept. She must have had some sons in the army.</p> + +<p>We are simply longing to get to work, whether here or anywhere else; it +is 100 per cent better in this interesting old town doing for ourselves +in the Convent than waiting in the stuffy hotel at Dublin. There is any +amount to see—miles of our Transport going through the town with burly +old shaggy English farm-horses, taken straight from the harvest, pulling +the carts; French Artillery Reservists being taught to work the guns; +French soldiers passing through; and our R.E. Motor-cyclists scudding +about. And one can practise talking, understanding, and reading French. +It is surprising how few of the 216 Sisters here seem to know a word of +French. I am looked upon as an expert, and you know what my French is +like! A sick officer sitting out in the court below has got a small +French boy by him who is teaching him French with a map, a 'Matin,' and +a dictionary. A great deal of nodding and shaking of heads is going on.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, August 23rd.</i>—The same dazzling blue sky, boiling sun, and +sharp shadows that one seldom sees in England for long together; we've +had it for days.</p> + +<p>We've had yesterday's London papers to read to-day; they quote in a +rather literal translation from their Paris Correspondent word for word +what we read in the Paris papers yesterday. I wonder what the English +hospital people in Brussels are doing in the German occupation,—pretty +hard times for them, I expect. Two that I know are there doing civilian +work, and Lord Rothschild has got a lot of English nurses there.</p> + +<p>This morning I went to the great Requiem Mass at Notre Dame. It was +packed to bursting with people standing, but we were immediately shown +to good places. The Abbé preached a very fine war sermon, quite easy to +understand. There was a great deal of weeping on all sides. When the +service was finished the big organ suddenly struck up "God Save the +King"; it gave one such a thrill. And then a long procession of officers +filed out, our generals with three rows of ribbons leading, and the +French following.</p> + +<p>This is said to be our biggest base, and that we shall get some very +good work. Of course, once we get the wounded in it doesn't make any +difference where you are.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, August 24th.</i>—The news looks bad to-day; people say it is très +sérieux, ce moment-ci; but there is a cheering article in Saturday's +'Times' about it all. The news is posted up at the Préfeture (dense +crowd always) several times a day, and we get many editions of the +papers as we go through the day.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, August 25th.</i>—We bide here. No.— G.H., which is also here, +has been chopped in half, and divided between us and No.— General, +the permanent Base Hospital already established here. So we shall be two +base hospitals, each with 750 beds.</p> + +<p>The place is full of rumours of all sorts of horrors,—that the Germans +have landed in Scotland, that they are driving the Allies back on all +sides, and that the casualties are in thousands. So far there are 200 +sick, minor cases, at No.—, but no wounded except two Germans. We +have no beds open yet; the hospital is still being got on with; our site +is said to be on a swamp between a Remount Camp and a Veterinary Camp, +so we shall do well in horse-flies.</p> + +<p>It is a fortnight to-morrow since we mobilised, and we have had no work +yet except our own fatigue duty in the Convent; it was our turn this +morning, and I scrubbed the lavatories out with creosol.</p> + +<p>I've had an interesting day to-day, motoring round with the C.O. of +No.— and the No.— Matron. We visited each of their three palatial +buildings in turn, huge wards of 60 beds each, in ball-rooms, and a +central camp of 500 on a hill outside. They have their work cut out +having it so divided up, but they are running it magnificently.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, August 26th.</i>—Very ominous leading articles in the French +papers to-day bidding every one to remember that there is no need to +give up hope of complete success in the end! There is a great deal about +the French and English heavy losses, but where are the wounded being +sent? It is absolutely maddening sitting here still with no work yet, +when there must be so much to be done; but I suppose it will come to us +in time, as it is easier to move the men to the hospitals than the +hospitals to the men, or they wouldn't have put 1500 beds here.</p> + +<p>The street children here have a charming way of running up to every +strolling Tommy, Officer, or Sister, seizing their hand, and saying, +"Goodnight," and saluting; one reached up to pat my shoulder.</p> + +<p>No.— G.H., which left here yesterday for Abbeville, between Rouen and +the mouth of the Somme, came back again to-day. They were met by a +telegram at Rouen at midnight, telling them to return to Havre, as it +was not safe to go on. They are of course frightfully sick.</p> + +<p>French wounded have been coming in all day. And we are not yet in camp. +Our site is said to be a fearful swamp, so to-day, which has been +soaking wet, will be a good test for it.</p> + +<p>It is so wet to-night that we are going to have cocoa and +bread-and-butter on the floor, instead of trailing down to the hotel for +dinner. Miss ——, who is the third in our room, regales us with really +thrilling stories of her adventures in S.A. She was mentioned in +despatches, and reported dead.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, August 27th.</i>—Bright sun to-day, so I hope the Army is +drying itself. All sorts of rumours as usual—that our wounded are still +on the field, being shot by the Germans, that 700 are coming to Havre +to-day, that 700 have been taken in at Rouen, where we have three +G.H.'s—that last is the truest story. We went this afternoon to see +over the Hospital Ship here, waiting for wounded to take back to +Netley. It is beautifully fitted, and even has hot-water bottles ready +in the beds, but no wounded. It is much smaller than the H.S. <i>Dunera</i> I +came home in from South Africa. Still no sign of No.— being ready, +which is not surprising, as the hay had to be cut and the place drained +more or less. The French and English officers here all sit at different +tables, and don't hobnob much. Six officers of the Royal Flying Corps +are here, double-breasted tunics and two spread-eagle wings on left +breast. Troops are still arriving at the docks, which are the biggest I +have ever seen. The men on the trams give us back our sous, as we are +"Militaires."</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, August 28th.</i>—Hot and brilliant. Eleven fugitive Sisters of +No.— have come back to-day from Amiens, and the others are either +hung up somewhere or on the way. The story is that Uhlans were arriving +in the town, and that it wasn't safe for women; I don't know if the +hospital were receiving wounded or not. Yes, they were. Another rumour +to-day says that No.— Field Ambulance has been wiped out by a bomb +from an aeroplane. Another rumour says that one regiment has five men +left, and another one man—but most of these stories turn out myths in +time.</p> + +<p>Wounded are being taken in at No.—, and are being shipped home from +there the same day.</p> + +<p>This morning Matron took two of us out to our Hospital camp, three miles +along the Harfleur road. The tram threaded its way through thousands of +our troops, who arrived this morning, and through a regiment of French +Sappers. There were Seaforths (with khaki petticoats over the kilt), R. +Irish Rifles, R.B. Gloucesters, Connaughts, and some D.G.'s and Lancers. +They were all heavily loaded up with kit and rifles (sometimes a proud +little French boy would carry these for them), marching well, but +perspiring in rivers. It was a good sight, and the contrast between the +khaki and the red trousers and caps and blue coats of the French was +very striking. We went nearly to Harfleur (where Henry V. landed before +Agincourt), and then walked back towards No.— Camp, along a beautiful +straight avenue with poplars meeting over the top. About 20 motors full +of Belgian officers passed us.</p> + +<p>The camp is getting on well. All the Hospital tents are pitched, and all +the quarters except the Sisters and the big store tents for the +Administration block are ready. The operating theatre tent is to have a +concrete floor and is not ready.</p> + +<p>The ground is the worst part. It is a very boggy hay-field, and in wet +weather like Wednesday and Tuesday they say it is a swamp. We are all +to have our skirts and aprons very short and to be well provided with +gum-boots. We shall be two in a bell-tent, or dozens in a big store +tent, uncertain yet which, and we are to have a bath tent. I am to be +surgical.</p> + +<p>While waiting for the tram on the way back, on a hot, white road, we +made friends with a French soldier, who stopped a little motor-lorry, +already crammed with men and some sort of casks, and made them take us +on. I sat on the floor, with my feet on the step, and we whizzed back +into Havre in great style. There is no speed limit, and it was a lovely +joy-ride!</p> + +<p>We are seeing the 'Times' a few days late and fairly regularly. Have not +seen any list of the Charleroi casualties yet. It all seems to be coming +much nearer now. The line is very much taken up with ammunition trains.</p> + +<p>To show that there is a good deal going on, though we've as yet had no +work, I'm only half through my 7d. book, and we left home a fortnight +and two days ago. If you do have a chance to read anything but +newspapers, you can't keep your mind on it.</p> + +<p>We are getting quite used to a life shorn of most of its trappings, +except for the two hotel meals a day.</p> + +<p>My mattress, on the floor along the very low large window, with two rugs +and cushions, and a holdall for a bolster, is as comfortable as any +bed, and you don't miss sheets after a day or two. There is one bathroom +for 120 or more people, but I get a cold bath every morning early. S—— +gets our early morning tea, and M. sweeps our room, and I wash up and +roll up the beds. We are still away from our boxes, and have a change of +some clothes and not others. I have to wash my vest overnight when I +want a clean one and put it on in the morning. We have slung a +clothes-line across our room. The view is absolutely glorious.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, August 29th.</i>—A grilling day. It is very difficult, this +waiting. No.— had 450 wounded in yesterday, and they were whisked off +on the hospital ship in the evening. It doesn't look as if there would +be anything for us to do for weeks.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, August 30th.</i>—Orders to-day for the whole Base at Havre to +pack itself up and embark at a moment's notice. So No.—, No.—, +No.—, and No.— G.H., who are all here, and a Royal Flying Corps +unit, the Post Office, and the Staff, and every blessed British unit, +are all packing up for dear life. We may be going home, and we may be +going to Brittany, to Cherbourg, or to Brest, or to Berlin.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, August 31st.</i>—We all got up at 5.30 to be ready, but I daresay +we shan't move to-day. Yesterday we had two starved, exhausted, fugitive +(from Amiens) No.— Sisters in to tea on our floor, and heard their +stories. The last seventeen of them fled with the wounded. A train of +cattle-trucks came in at Rouen with all the wounded as they were picked +up without a spot of dressing on any of their wounds, which were septic +and full of straw and dirt. The matron, M.O., and some of them got hold +of some dressings and went round doing what they could in the time, and +others fed them. Then the No.— got their Amiens wounded into +cattle-trucks on mattresses, with Convent pillows, and had a twenty +hours' journey with them in frightful smells and dirt. Our visitor had +five badly-wounded officers, one shot through the lungs and hip, and all +full of bullets and spunk. They were magnificent, and asked riddles and +whistled, and the men were the same. They'd been travelling already for +two days. An orderly fell out of the train and was badly injured, and +died next morning.</p> + +<p>It is very interesting to read on Monday the 'Times' Military +Correspondent's forecast of Friday. He seems to know so exactly the +different lines of defence of the Allies, and exactly where the Germans +will try and break through. But he has never found out that Havre has +been a base for over a fortnight. He speaks of Havre or Cherbourg as a +possible base to fall back upon, if fortified against long-distance +artillery firing, which we are not. And now we are abandoning Havre!</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, September 1st.</i>—No orders yet, so we are still waiting, +packed up.</p> + +<p>Went with one of the regulars to-day to see the big hospital ship +<i>Asturias</i> with 3000 beds, and also to see Sister —— at the No.— +Maritime Hospital. They've been very busy there dressing the wounded for +the ship. Colonel —— brought us back in his motor, and met the +Consul-General on the way, who told us K. came through to-day off a +cruiser, and was taken on to Paris in a motor. Smiles of relief from +every one. One of the Sisters had heard from her mother in Scotland that +she had five Russian officers billeted! They are said to be on their way +through from Archangel.</p> + +<p>Troopships full of French and English troops are leaving Havre every +day, for Belgium.</p> + +<p>Wouldn't you like to be under the table when K. and J. and F. are poring +over their maps to-night?</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, September 2nd.</i>—We are leaving to-morrow, on a hospital +ship, possibly for Nantes K. has given orders for every one to be +cleared out of Havre by to-morrow.</p> + +<p>We found some men invalided from the Front lying outside the station +last night waiting for an ambulance, mostly reservists called up; they'd +had a hot time, but were full of grit.</p> + +<p>The men from Mons told us "it wasn't fighting—it was murder." They said +the burning hot sun was one of the worst parts. They said "the officers +was grand"; many regiments seem to have hardly any officers left. They +all say that the S.A. War was a picnic compared to this German artillery +onslaught and their packed masses continually filling up.</p> + +<p>There is a darling little chapel on this floor, beautifully kept, just +as the nuns left it, where one can say one's prayers. And there is also +a lovely church, where they have Mass at 8 every morning.</p> + +<p>You can imagine how hard it has been to keep off grumbling at not +getting any work all this time; it is one of the worst of fortunes of +war. It seems as if most of the "dangerously" and many of the +"seriously" wounded must have died pretty soon, or have not been picked +up. The cases that do come down are most of them slight. Some of the +worst must be in hospital at Rouen.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, September 4th. R.M.S.P.</i> Asturias, <i>Havre.</i>—At last we are +uprooted from that convent up the hot hill and are on an enormous +hospital ship, who in times of peace goes to New York and Brazil and the +Argentine. There are 240 Sisters on her, one or two M.O.'s, and all the +No.— equipment. She is like a great white town; you can walk for +miles on her decks; she is the biggest I have ever been on; we are in +the cabins, and the wards and operating-theatres are all equipped for +patients, but at the moment she is being used as a transport for us. We +are supposed to be going to St Nazaire, the port for Nantes. They can't +possibly be going to dump No.—, No.—, No.—, No.—, and +No.— all down at the new base, so I suppose one or two of the +hospitals will be sent up the new lines of communication.</p> + +<p>Poor Havre is very desolate. All the flags came down when the British +left, and the people looked very sad. Paris refugees are crowding in, +and sleeping on the floors of the hotels, and camping out in their motor +cars, and many crossing to England. There is a Proclamation up all over +the town telling the people to pull themselves together whatever +happens, and to forget everything that is not La Patrie. Also another +about the military necessity for the Government to leave Paris, and +that they mustn't be afraid of anything that may happen, because we +shall win in the end, &c., &c.</p> + +<p>We don't start till to-morrow, I believe; meanwhile, cleanliness and +privacy and sheets, and cool, quick meals and sea breeze, are cheering +after the grime and the pigging and the squash and the awful heat of the +last fortnight. I have picked up a bad cold from the foul dust-heaps and +drainless condition of the smelly Havre streets, but it will soon +disappear now.</p> + +<p>I wish I could tell you the extraordinary beauty of yesterday evening +from the ship. There was a flaming sunset below a pale-green sky, and +then the thousand lights of the ships and the town came out reflected in +the water, and then a brilliant moon. A big American cruiser was +alongside of us.</p> + +<p>We shall get no more letters till we land. I have a "State-room" all to +myself on the top deck; the waiters and stewards are English, very +polite to us, and the crew are mostly West African negroes, who talk +good English. The ship is very becoming to the white, grey, and red of +our uniforms, or else our uniforms are becoming to the ship, and her +many decks; but why, oh why, are we not all in hospital somewhere?</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, September 5th.</i>—Had a perfect voyage—getting in to Nantes +to-night—after that no one knows. Shouldn't be surprised if we are sent +home.</p> + + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">La Baule, near Nantes</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, September 7th.</i>—The latest wave of this erratic sea has tossed +us up on to two little French seaside places north of St Nazaire, the +port of Nantes. There are over <i>500</i> Sisters at the two places in +hotels. No.— and No.— and part of — are at La Baule in one +enormous new hotel, which has been taken over for the French wounded on +the bottom floor; the rest was empty till we came. We are in palatial +rooms with balconies overlooking the sea, and have large bathrooms +opening out of our rooms; it is rather like the Riffel in the middle of +a forest of pines, and the sea immediately in front. The expense of it +all must be colossal! Every one is too sick at the state of affairs to +enjoy it at all; some bathe, and you can sit about in the pines or on +the sands. We have had no letters since we left Havre last Thursday, and +no news of the war. We took till Sunday morning to reach St Nazaire, and +at midday were stuffed into a little dirty train for this place. I'm +thankful we didn't have to get out at Pornichet, the station before +this, where are Nos.—, —, —, —, and —.</p> + +<p>The Sisters of No.— who had to leave their hospital at —— handed +their sick officers and men over to the French hospital, much to their +disgust. The officers especially have a horror of the elegant ways of +the French nurses, who make one water do for washing them all round!</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, September 8th.</i>—Orders came last night to each Matron to +provide three or five Sisters who can talk French for duty up country +with a Stationary Hospital, so M. and I are put down with two Regulars +and another Reserve. It is probably too much luck and won't come off. +The duties will be "very strenuous," both for night and day duty, and we +are to carry very little kit. The wire may come at any time. So this +morning M. and I and Miss J——, our Senior Regular, and very nice +indeed, got into the train for St Nazaire to see about our baggage, and +had an adventurous morning. The place was swarming with troops of all +sorts. The 6th Division was being sent up to the Front to-day, and no +medical units could get hold of any transport for storing all their +thousands of tons of stuff. One of the minor errors has been sending the +600 Sisters out with 600 trunks, 600 holdalls, and 600 kit-bags!! The +Sisters' baggage is a byword now, and we could have done with only one +of the three things or 1-1/2. We have been out nearly a month now and +have not been near our boxes; some other hospitals have lost all +theirs, or had them smashed up. We at last traced our No.— people and +found them encamped on the wharf among the stuff,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> trying to get it +stored with only one motor transport lent them by the Flying Corps. They +were very nice to us, offered us lunch on packing-cases, and Major —— +cleaned my skirt with petrol for me!</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Each hospital contains 78 tons of tents, furniture, stores, +&c.</p></div> + +<p>They sorted out the five kit-bags and boxes for us from the rest, as we +have to go in to-morrow and repack for duty,—only sleeping kit and +uniform to be taken, and a change of underclothing. They said we'd have +to make our own transport arrangements, as the 6th Division had taken up +everything. So in the town we saw an empty dray outside a public-house, +and after investigating inside two pubs we unearthed a fat man, who took +us to a wine merchant's yard, and he produced a huge dray, which he +handed over to us! We lent it to the Matron of No.—, and we have +commandeered the brewer for No.—'s to-morrow. Then we met a large +French motor ambulance without a French owner, with "Havre" on it, which +we knew, and sent Miss —— in it to the <i>Asturias</i> to try and collar it +for us to-morrow. She did.</p> + +<p>There were a lot of Cavalry already mounted just starting, and Welsh +Fusiliers, and Argyll and Sutherlands, and swarms more. We had another +invitation to a packing-case lunch from three other M.O.'s at another +wharf, but couldn't stop.</p> + +<p>We saw three German officers led through the crowd at the wharf. The +French crowd booed and groaned and yelled "Les Assassins" at them. The +Tommies were quite quiet. They looked white and bored. We also saw 86 +men (German prisoners) in a shed on the wharf. Some one who'd been +talking to the German officers told us they were quite cheerful and +absolutely certain Germany is going to win!</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, September 9th.</i>—It is a month to-day since I left home, and +seems like six, and no work yet. Isn't it absolutely rotten? A big storm +last night, and the Bay of Biscay tumbling about like fun to-day: bright +and sunny again now. The French infants, boys and girls up to any age, +are all dressed in navy knickers and jerseys and look so jolly. Matron +has gone into St Nazaire to-day to get all the whole boiling of our +baggage out here to repack. P'raps she'll bring some news or some +letters, or, best of all, some orders.</p> + +<p>This is a lovely spot. I'm writing on our balcony at the Riffelalp, +above the tops of the pines, and straight over the sea. Three Padres +are stranded at Pornichet—two were troopers in the S.A. War, and they +do duty for us. The window of the glass lounge where we have services +blew in with a crash this morning, right on the top of them, and it took +some time to sort things out, but eventually they went on, in the middle +of the sentence they stopped at.</p> + +<p>A French rag this morning had some cheering telegrams about the +Allies—that left, centre, and right were all more than holding their +own, even if the enemy is rather near Paris. What about the Russians who +came through England? We've heard of trains passing through Oxford with +all the blinds down.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, September 10th.</i>—Dazzling day. War news, "L'ennemie se +replie devant l'armée anglaise," and that "Nos alliés anglais +poursuivent leur offensive dans la direction de la Marne."—All good so +far. No letters yet.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, September 11th.</i>—It is said to-day that No.— is to open at +Nantes immediately. That will mean, at the earliest, in a fortnight, +possibly much longer. We five French speakers are again told to stand by +for special orders, but I know it won't come off.</p> + +<p>At early service yesterday among the Intercessions was one for patience +in this time of trial waiting for our proper work. Never was there a +more needful Intercession.</p> + +<p>Some of us explored the salt-marshes behind this belt of pines +yesterday, up to the farms and to a little old church on the other side; +it was open, and had a little ship hanging over the chancel. The +salt-marshes are intersected by sea walls—with sea pinks and sea +lavender—that you walk along, and there are masses of blackberries +round the farms.</p> + +<p>There are rumours that all the hospitals will be getting to work soon, +but I don't believe it. No.— has lost all its tent-poles, and a lot +of its equipment in the move from Havre. I believe the missing stuff is +supposed to be on its way to Jersey in the <i>Welshman</i> with the German +prisoners.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, September 12th.</i>—Rien à dire. Tous les jours même chose—on +attend des ordres, ce qui ne viennent jamais.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, September 13th.</i>—The hospitals seem to be showing faint signs +of moving. No.— has gone to Versailles, and No.— to Nantes. +No.— would have gone to Versailles if they hadn't had the bad luck to +lose their tent-poles in the <i>Welshman</i>, and their pay-sheets and a few +other important items.</p> + +<p>Had to play the hymns at three services to-day without a hymn-book! +Luckily I scratched up 370, 197, 193, 176, and 285, and God Save the +King, out of my head, but "We are but little children weak" is the only +other I can do, except "Peace, Perfect Peace"! A fine sermon by an +exceptionally good Padre, mainly on Patience and Preparation!</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday Evening, September 13th, La Baule, Nantes.</i>—Orders at last. M. +and I, an Army Sister, and two Army Staff Nurses are to go to Le Mans; +what for, remains to be seen; anyway, it will be work. It seems too good +to be by any possibility true. We may be for Railway Station duty, +feeding and dressings in trains or for a Stationary Hospital, or +anything, or to join No. 5 General at Le Mans.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, September 14th, Angers</i>, 8 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—<i>in the train.</i>—We +five got into the train at La Baule with kit-bags and holdalls, with the +farewells of Matron and our friends, at 9.30 this morning. We are still +in the same train, and shall not reach Le Mans till 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> +Then what? Perhaps Station Duty, perhaps Hospital. There is said to be +any amount of work at Le Mans. We have an R.H.A. Battery on this train +with guns, horses, five officers, and trucks full of shouting and +yelling men all very fit, straight from home. One big officer said +savagely, "The first man not carrying out orders will be sent down to +the base," to one of his juniors, as the worst threat. The spirits of +the men are irrepressible. The French people rush up wherever we stop +(which is extremely often and long) and give them grapes and pears and +cigarettes. We have had cider, coffee, fruit, chocolate, and +biscuits-and-cheese at intervals. It is difficult to get anything, +because no one, French or English, ever seems to know when the train is +going on.</p> + +<p>We have been reading in 'The Times' of September 3, 4, 5, and 7, all +day, and re-reading last night's mail from home.</p> + +<p>What a marvellous spirit has been growing in all ranks of the Army (and +Navy) these last dozen years, to show as it is doing now. And the +technical perfection of all one saw at the Military Tournament this year +must have meant a good deal—for this War.</p> + +<p>(We are still shunting madly in and out of Angers.)</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II.</h2> + +<h4>Le Mans</h4> + +<h5>WOUNDED FROM THE AISNE</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>September 15, 1914, to October 11, 1914</i></p> + +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"No easy hopes or lies</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Shall bring us to our goal,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">But iron sacrifice</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Of body, will, and soul.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">There is but one task for all—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">For each one life to give,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Who stands if freedom fall?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Who dies if England live?"</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;" class="smcap"> —Rudyard Kipling.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II.</h2> + +<h4>Le Mans.</h4> + +<h5>WOUNDED FROM THE AISNE.</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>September 15, 1914, to October 11, 1914.</i></p> + +<p>Station duty—On train duty—Orders again—Waiting to go—Still at Le +Mans—No.— Stationary Hospital—Off at last—The Swindon of France.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, September 15th.</i>—The train managed to reach Le Mans at 1 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> this morning, and kindly shunted into a siding in the +station till 6.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, so we got out our blankets and had a +bit of a sleep. At 7 a motor ambulance took us up to No.— Stationary +Hospital, which is a rather grimy Bishop's Palace, pretty full and busy. +The Sisters there gave us tea and biscuits, and we were then sorted out +by the Senior Matron, and billeted singly. I'm in a nice little house +with a garden with an old French lady who hasn't a word of English, and +fell on my neck when she found I could understand her, and patter +glibly and atrociously back. My little room has a big window over the +garden, and will, I suppose, be my headquarters for the present in +between train and station duty, which I believe is to be our lot. We go +to a rather dim café for meals, and shall then learn what the duty is to +be. It is yet a long time coming. We haven't had a meal since the day +before yesterday, so I shall be glad when 12 o'clock comes. Now for a +wash.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, September 16th.</i>—Still here: only four of the twenty-five +(five sets of five) who formed our unit have been found jobs so far: two +are taking a train of sick down to St Nazaire, and two have joined +No.— Stationary Hospital in the town. We still await orders! This is +a first-class War for awaiting orders for some of us.</p> + +<p>Yesterday it poured all day. We explored the Cathedral, which is +absolutely beautiful, perched high up over an open space—now crowded +with transport and motor ambulances. We made tea in my quarters, and +then explored the town; narrow streets thronged with Tommies as usual.</p> + +<p>We have lunch at eleven and dinner at seven, at a dingy little inn +through a smelly back yard; there is not much to eat, and you fill up +with rather nasty bread and unripe pears, and drink a sort of flat +cider, as the water is not good.</p> + +<p>To-day it is sunny again. I have just been to High Mass (Choral), and +taken photos of the Cathedral and the Market below, where I got four +ripe peaches for 1-1/2d.</p> + +<p>Writing in the garden of Mme. Bontevin, my landlady.</p> + +<p>There is any amount of work here at the Bishop's Palace; more than they +can get through on night duty with bad cases, and another Jesuit College +has been opened as No.— Stationary. Went up to No.— S. this +afternoon where F—— has been sent, to see her; she asked me to go out +and buy cakes for six wounded officers. They seemed highly pleased with +them; they are on beds, the men on stretchers; all in holland sheets and +brown blankets; only bare necessaries, as the Stationary Hospitals have +to be very mobile: stretchers make very decent beds, but they are +difficult for nursing.</p> + +<p>They have had a good many deaths, surgical and medical, at L'Evêché; +they have pneumonias, and paralysis, and septic wounds, and an officer +shot through the head, with a temperature of 106 and paralysis; there is +a civil surgeon with a leg for amputation at No.— Stationary.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, September 18th.</i>—Même chose. We go up to the Hospital and ask +for orders, and to-night we were both told to get into ward uniform in +the morning, and wait there in case a job turns up. I've just come +to-night from No.— Station where F—— is, to take her some things she +asked me to get for her officers.</p> + +<p>They have been busy at the station to-day doing dressings on the trains. +A lot have come down from this fighting on the Marne.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I think one touched the bottom of this waiting business. The +food at the dingy inn has dérangé my inside, and I lay down all day +yesterday. The Sergeant at the Dispensary prescribed lead and opium +pills for me when I asked for chlorodyne, as he said he'd just cured a +General with the same complaint—from the sour bread, he said. Fanny, +the fat cook here, and Isabel the maid, were overcome with anxiety over +my troubles, and fell over each other with hot bottles, and drinks, and +advice. They are perfect angels. Madame Bontevin pays me a state call +once a day; she has to have all the windows shut, and we sit close and +converse with animation. Flowery French compliments simply fly between +us. We often have to help the Tommies out with their shopping; their +attempts to buy Beecham's Pills are the funniest.</p> + +<p>This afternoon I found 'The Times' of September 15th (Tuesday of this +week) in a shop and had a happy time with it. It referred, in a +Frenchman's letter, to a sunset at Havre on an evening that he would +never forget—nor shall I—with an American cruiser and a troopship +going out. (See page 24 of this effusion.)</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, September 19th.</i>—It seems that we five No.—s who came up +last Monday are being kept to staff another Stationary Hospital farther +up, when it is ready; at least that is what it looks like from sundry +rumours—if so—good enough.</p> + +<p>We have been all day in caps and aprons at L'Evêché, marking linen and +waiting for orders on the big staircase. I've also been over both +hospitals. The bad cases all seem to be dropped here off the trains; +there are some awful mouth, jaw, head, leg, and spine cases, who can't +recover, or will only be crippled wrecks. You can't realise that it has +all been done on purpose, and that none of them are accidents or +surgical diseases. And they seem all to take it as a matter of course; +the bad ones who are conscious don't speak, and the better ones are all +jolly and smiling, and ready "to have another smack." One little room +had two wounded German prisoners, with an armed guard. One who was shot +through the spine died while I was there—his orderly and the Sister +were with him. The other is a spy—nearly well—who has to be very +carefully watched.</p> + +<p>They are all a long time between the field and the Hospital. One told me +he was wounded on Tuesday—was one day in a hospital, and then +travelling till to-day, Saturday. No wonder their wounds are full of +straw and grass. (Haven't heard of any more tetanus.) Most haven't had +their clothes off, or washed, for three weeks, except face and hands.</p> + +<p>No war news to-day, except that the Germans are well fortified and +entrenched in their positions N. of Rheims.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, September 20th.</i>—Began with early service at the Jesuit School +Hospital at 6.30, and the rest of the day one will never forget. The +fighting for these concrete entrenched positions of the Germans behind +Rheims has been so terrific since last Sunday that the number of +casualties has been enormous. Three trains full of wounded, numbering +altogether 1175 cases, have been dressed at the station to-day; we were +sent down at 11 this morning. The train I was put to had 510 cases. You +boarded a cattle-truck, armed with a tray of dressings and a pail; the +men were lying on straw; had been in trains for several days; most had +only been dressed once, and many were gangrenous. If you found one +urgently needed amputation or operation, or was likely to die, you +called an M.O. to have him taken off the train for Hospital. No one +grumbled or made any fuss. Then you joined the throng in the +dressing-station, and for hours doctors of all ranks, Sisters and +orderlies, grappled with the stream of stretchers, and limping, +staggering, bearded, dirty, fagged men, and ticketed them off for the +motor ambulances to the Hospitals, or back to the train, after dressing +them. The platform was soon packed with stretchers with all the bad +cases waiting patiently to be taken to Hospital. We cut off the silk +vest of a dirty, brigandish-looking officer, nearly finished with a +wound through his lung. The Black Watch and Camerons were almost +unrecognisable in their rags. The staple dressing is tincture of iodine; +you don't attempt anything but swabbing with lysol, and then gauze +dipped in iodine. They were nearly all shrapnel shell wounds—more +ghastly than anything I have ever seen or smelt; the Mauser wounds of +the Boer War were pin-pricks compared with them. There was also a huge +train of French wounded being dressed on the other side of the station, +including lots of weird, gaily-bedecked Zouaves.</p> + +<p>There was no real confusion about the whole day, owing to the good +organising of the No.— Clearing Hospital people who run it. Every man +was fed, and dressed and sorted. They'll have a heavy time at the two +hospitals to-night with the cases sent up from the trains.</p> + +<p>M. and I are now—9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—in charge of a train of 141 (with an +M.O. and two orderlies) for St Nazaire; we jump out at the stations and +see to them, and the orderlies and the people on the stations feed them: +we have the worst cases next to us. We may get there some time to-morrow +morning, and when they are taken off, we train back, arriving probably +on Wednesday at Le Mans. The lot on this train are the best leavings of +to-day's trains,—a marvellously cheery lot, munching bread and jam and +their small share of hot tea, and blankets have just been issued. We +ourselves have a rug, and a ration of bread, tea, and jam; we had dinner +on the station.</p> + +<p>When I think of your Red Cross practices on boy scouts, and the grim +reality, it makes one wonder. And the biggest wonder of it all is the +grit there is in them, and the price they are individually and +unquestioningly paying for doing their bit in this War.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, September 21st.</i>—In train on way back to Le Mans from St +Nazaire. We did the journey in twelve hours, and arrived at 9 this +morning, which was very good, considering the congestion on the line. In +the middle of the night we pulled up alongside an immense troop train, +taking a whole Brigade of D. of Cornwall's L.I. up to the front, such a +contrast to our load coming away from the front. Our lot will be a long +time getting to bed; the Medical Officers at St N. told us there were +already two trains in, and no beds left on hospitals or ships, and 1300 +more expected to-day; four died in one of the trains; ours were pretty +well, after the indescribable filth and fug of the train all night; it +was not an ambulance train, but trucks and ordinary carriages. The men +say there are hardly any officers left in many regiments. There has +never been this kind of rush to be coped with anywhere, but the Germans +must be having worse. We had thirteen German prisoners tacked on to us +with a guard of the London Scottish, the first Territorials to come out, +bursting with health and pride and keenness. They are not in the +fighting line yet, but are used as escorts for the G.P. among other +jobs. One of the men on our train had had his shoulder laid open for six +inches by a shell, where he couldn't see the wound. He asked me if it +was a bullet wound! He himself thought it was too large for that, and +might be shrapnel! He hadn't mentioned it all night.</p> + +<p>We had some dressings to be done again this morning, and then left them +in charge of the M.O. and two orderlies, and went to report ourselves to +the A.D.M.S. and get a warrant for the return journey. We shall get in +to Le Mans somewhere about midnight. I'm not a bit tired, strange to +say; we got a few rests in the night, but couldn't sleep.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, September 22nd.</i>—Got back to Le Mans at 2 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—motor-ambulanced up to the hospital, where an orderly +made lovely beds for us on stretchers, with brown blankets and pillows, +in the theatre, and labelled the door "Operation," in case any one +should disturb us. At 6 we went to our respective diggings for a wash +and breakfast, and reported to Matron at 8. We have been two days and +two nights in our clothes; food where, when, and what one could get; one +wash only on a station platform at a tap which a sergeant kindly pressed +for me while I washed! one cleaning of teeth in the dark on the line +between trucks. They have no water on trains or at stations, except on +the engine, which makes tea in cans for you for the men when it stops.</p> + +<p>We are to rest to-day, to be ready for another train to-night if +necessary. The line from the front to Rouen—where there are two General +Hospitals—is cut; hence this appalling over-crowding at our base. When +we got back this morning, nine of those we took off the trains on Sunday +afternoon had died here, and one before he reached the hospital—three +of tetanus. I haven't heard how many at the other hospital at the Jesuit +school—tetanus there too. Some of the amputations die of septic +absorption and shock, and you wouldn't wonder if you saw them. I went to +the 9 o'clock Choral High Mass this morning at that glorious and +beautiful Cathedral—all gorgeous old glass and white and grey stone, +slender Gothic and fat Norman. It was very fine and comforting.</p> + +<p>The sick officers are frightfully pleased to see 'The Times,' no matter +how old; so are we. I've asked M. to collect their 1/2d. picture daily +papers once a week for the men.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, September 23rd.</i>—Have been helping in the wards at No.— +to-day. The Sisters and orderlies there have all about twice what they +can get through—the big dressings are so appalling and new cases have +been coming in—all stretcher cases. As soon as they begin to recover at +all they are sent down to the base to make room for worse ones off the +trains. To-morrow I am on station duty again—possibly for another +train.</p> + +<p>There is a rumour that three British cruisers have been sunk by a +submarine—it can't be true.</p> + +<p>I don't see why this battle along the French frontier should ever come +to an end, at any rate till both armies are exhausted, and decide to go +to bed. The men say we can't spot their guns—they are too well hidden +in these concrete entrenchments.</p> + +<p>The weather is absolutely glorious all day, and the stars all night. +Orion, with his shining bodyguard, from Sirius to Capella, is blazing +every morning at 4.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, September 24th</i>, 3 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Taking 480 sick and wounded +down to St Nazaire, with a junior staff nurse, one M.O., and two +orderlies. Just been feeding them all at Angers; it is a stupendous +business. The train is miles long—not corridor or ambulance; they have +straw to lie on the floors and stretchers. The M.O. has been two nights +in the train already on his way down from the front (four miles from the +guns), and we joined on to him with a lot of hospital cases sent down to +the base. I've been collecting the worst ones into carriages near ours +all the way down when we stop; but of course you miss a good many. Got +my haversack lined with jaconet and filled with cut-dressings, very +convenient, as you have both hands free. We continually stop at little +stations, so you can get to a good many of them, and we get quite expert +at clawing along the footboards; some of the men, with their eyes, +noses, or jaws shattered, are so extraordinarily good and uncomplaining. +Got hold of a spout-feeder and some tubing at Angers for a boy in the +Grenadier Guards, with a gaping hole through his mouth to his chin, who +can't eat, and cannot otherwise drink. The French people bring coffee, +fruit, and all sorts of things to them when we stop.</p> + +<p>We shall have to wait at St Nazaire all day, and come back by night +to-morrow.</p> + +<p>One swanky Ambulance Train carries four permanent Sisters to the front +to fetch cases to Le Mans and the Base. They go to Villeneuve. They say +the country is deserted, crops left to waste, houses empty, and when you +get there no one smiles or speaks, but listens to the guns. The men seem +to think the Germans have got our range, but we haven't found theirs. +The number of casualties must be nearly into five figures this last +battle alone; and when you think of the Russians, the Germans, the +French, the Austrians, and the Belgians all like that, the whole +convulsion seems more meaningless than ever for civilised nations.</p> + +<p>This is in scraps, owing to the calls of duty. The beggars simply swarm +out of the train at every stop—if they can limp or pull up by one +arm—to get the fruit and things from the French.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, September 25th.</i>—In train back to Le Mans, 9 <span class="smcap">p.m</span>. We +landed our tired, stiff, painful convoy at St Nazaire at 8.45 yesterday +evening. The M.O.'s there told us our lot made 1800 that had come down +since early morning; one load of bad cases took eight hours to unload. +The officers all seemed depressed and overworked, and they were having a +very tight fit to get beds for them at the various hospitals at St +Nazaire. At about 10 <span class="smcap">p.m</span>. the last were taken off by the motor +ambulances, and we got some dinner on the station with our Civil +Surgeon, who was looking forward to a night in a tent out of a train.</p> + +<p>The R.T.O. found us an empty 1st class carriage in the station to sleep +in, and the sergeant found us a candle and matches and put us to bed, +after a sketchy wash provided by the buffet lady.</p> + +<p>The din was continuous all night, so one didn't sleep much, but had a +decent rest (and a flea). The sergeant called us at 6.30, and we had +another sketchy wash, and coffee and rolls and jam at the buffet. Then +we found our way to the hospital ship <i>Carisbrook Castle</i>. The Army +Sister in charge was most awfully kind, showed us over, made the steward +turn on hot baths for us, provided notepaper, kept us to lunch—the +nicest meal we've seen for weeks! The ship had 500 cases on board, and +was taking 200 more—many wounded officers.</p> + +<p>A captain of the —— told me all his adventures from the moment he was +hit till now. His regiment had nine officers killed and twenty-seven +wounded. He said they knew things weren't going well in that retreat, +but they never knew how critical it was at the time.</p> + +<p>After lunch, we took our grateful leave and went to the A.D.M.S.'s +office for our return warrants for the R.T.O. (I have just had to sign +it for fourteen, as senior officer of our two selves and twelve A.S.C. +men taking two trucks of stores, who have no officer with them!) There +we heard that ten of our No.— Sisters were ordered to Nantes for duty +by the 4.28, so we hied back to the station to meet them and see them +off. They were all frightfully glad to be on the move at last, and we +had a great meeting. The rest are still bathing at La Baule and cursing +their luck.</p> + +<p>While we were getting some coffee in the only <i>patisserie</i> in the dirty +little town, seven burly officer boys of the Black Watch came in to buy +cakes for the train, they said, to-night. They were nearly all second +lieutenants, one captain, and were so excited at going up to the Front +they couldn't keep still. They asked us eagerly if we'd had many of "our +regiment" wounded, and how many casualties were there, and how was the +fighting going, and how long would the journey take. (The nearer you get +to the Front the longer it takes, as trains are always having to shunt +and go round loops to make room for supply trains.) They didn't seem to +have the dimmest idea what they're in for, bless them. They are on this +train in the next carriage.</p> + +<p>The Padre told me he was the only one at St Nazaire for all the +hospitals and all the troops in camp (15,000 in one camp alone).</p> + +<p>He had commandeered the Bishop of Khartoum to help him, and another +bishop, who both happen to be here.</p> + +<p>We are now going to turn out the light, and hope for the best till they +come to look at the warrant or turn us out to change.</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">a.m</span>.—At Sablé at 4 <span class="smcap">a.m</span>. we were turned out for two +hours; a wee open station. Mr —— and our Civil Surgeon were most awfully +decent to us: turned a sleepy official out of a room for us, and at 5 +came and dug us out to have coffee and <i>brioches</i> with them. Then we +went for a sunrise walk round the village, and were finally dragged into +their carriage, as they thought it was more comfortable than ours. Just +passed a big French ambulance train full from Compiègne.</p> + +<p>At Le Mans the train broke up again, and everybody got out. We +motor-ambulanced up to the Hospital with the three night Sisters coming +off station duty. Matron wanted us to go to bed for the day; but we +asked to come on after lunch, as they were busy and we weren't +overtired. I'm realising to-night that I have been on the train four +nights out of six, and bed is bliss at this moment.</p> + +<p>I was sent to No.— Stationary at the Jesuits' College to take over +the officers at one o'clock.</p> + +<p>One was an angelic gunner boy with a septic leg and an undaunted smile, +except when I dressed his leg and he said "Oh, damn!" The other bad one +was wounded in the shoulder. They kept me busy till Sister —— came +back, and then I went to my beloved Cathedral (and vergered some +Highland Tommies round it, they had fits of awe and joy over it, and +grieved over "Reems"). It is awfully hard to make these sick officers +comfortable, with no sheets or pillow-cases, no air ring-cushions, +pricky shirts, thick cups without saucers, &c. One longs for the medical +comforts of ——</p> + +<p>I hear to-night that Miss ——, the Principal Matron on the Lines of +Communication (on the War Establishment Staff) is here again, and may +have a new destination for some of us details.</p> + +<p>The heading in 'Le Matin' to-night is:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>UNE LUTTE ACHARNÉE<br /> +DE LA SOMME A LA MEUSE<br /> +LA BATAILLE REDOUBLE DE VIOLENCE</p></div> + +<p>If it redoubles <i>de violence</i> much longer who will be left?</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, September 27th.</i>—My luck is in this time. Miss —— has just +sent for me to tell me I am for permanent duty on No.— Ambulance +Train (equipped) which goes up to the Front, to the nearest point on the +rail to the fighting line. Did you ever know such luck? There are four +of us, one Army Sister and me and two juniors; we live altogether on the +train. The train will always be pushed up as near the Field Hospitals as +the line gets to, whether we drive the Germans back to Berlin or they +drive us into the sea. It is now going to Braisne, a little east of +Soissons, just S. of the Aisne, N.E. of Rheims. It is on its way up now, +and we are to join it with our baggage when it stops here on the way to +St Nazaire. We shall have two days and two nights with wounded, and two +days and two nights to rest on the return empty. The work itself will be +of the grimmest possible, as we shall have all the worst cases, being an +equipped Hospital in a train. It was worth waiting five weeks to get +this; every man or woman stuck at the Base has dreams of getting to the +Front, but only one in a hundred gets the dream fulfilled.</p> + +<p>There is no doubt that "the horrors of War" have outdone themselves by +this modern perfection of machinery killing, and the numbers involved, +as they have never done before, and as it was known they would. The +details are often unprintable. They have eight cases of tetanus at +No.— Stationary, and five have died.</p> + +<p>All the patients at No.— have been inoculated against tetanus to-day. +They have it in the French Hospitals too.</p> + +<p>Went to the Voluntary Evening Service for the troops at the theatre at +5. The Padres and a Union Jack and the Allies' Flags; and a piano on the +stage; officers and sisters in the stalls; and the rest packed tight +with men: they were very reverent, and nearly took the roof off in the +Hymns, Creed, and Lord's Prayer. Excellent sermon. We had the War +Intercessions and a good prayer I didn't know, ending with "Strengthen +us in life, and comfort us in death." The men looked what they were, +British to the bone; no one could take them for any other nation a mile +off. Clean, straight, thin, sunburnt, clear-eyed, all at their Active +Service best, no pallid rolls of fat on their faces like the French. The +man who preached must have liked talking to them in that pin-dropped +silence and attention; he evidently knows his opportunities.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, September 28th.</i>—There are hundreds of people in deep new +black in this town; what must it be in Berlin? The cemetery here is +getting full of French and British soldiers' graves. Those 1200 sailors +from the three cruisers had fine clean quick deaths compared to what +happens here.</p> + +<p>We have got our baggage (kit-bags and holdalls) down to the station at +the Red Cross Anglaise, and are sitting in our quarters waiting for the +word to come that No.— train is in. Met Miss —— in her car in the +town, and she said that it was just possible that the train might go +down to Havre this journey, she wasn't dead sure it was doing this +route! If so we shall be nicely and completely sold, as I don't know how +we should ever join it. But I'm not going to believe in such bad luck as +that would be till it happens.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, September 29th.</i>—We <i>were</i> sold last night after all. Trailed +down to the station to await the train according to orders, and were +then told by the A.D.M.S. that it had gone to Havre this journey, and +couldn't be on this line till next week, and we could go to bed. So +after all the embraces of Mme. and Fanny and Isabel, I turned up at +10.30 to ask for a bed. "Ma pauvre demoiselle," said fat F., hastening +to let me in.</p> + +<p>This morning Miss —— came down with us to the A.D.M.S.'s Office to find +out how we could join the train, and he said: "Wait till it comes in +next week, and meanwhile go on duty at the Hospital." I don't mind +anything as long as we do eventually get on to the train, and we are to +do that, so one must possess one's soul in patience. I am back with the +sick officers at No.— Stationary.</p> + +<p>There are rumours to-night of bad news from the front, and that the +German Navy is emerging from Kiel.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, September 30th.</i>—Have been doing the sick officers all day +(or rather wounded). They are quite nice, but the lack of equipment +makes twice the work. We are still having bright sunny days, but it is +getting cold, and I shall be glad of warmer clothes. The food at the +still filthy Inn in a dark outhouse through the back yard has improved a +little! My Madame (in my billet) gives me coffee and bread and butter +(of the best) at 7, and there is a ration tin of jam, and I have +acquired a pot of honey.</p> + +<p><i>On duty at</i> 7.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—At 12 or 1 we go to the Inn for +<i>déjeûner</i>: meat of some sort, one vegetable, bread, butter, and cheese, +and pears. Tea we provide ourselves when we can.</p> + +<p>At 7 or 8 we go to the Inn and have <i>pôtage</i> (which is warm water with a +few stray onions or carrots in it), and tough cold meat, and sometimes a +piece of pastry (for pudding), bread, butter, and cheese, and a very +small cup of coffee, and little, rather hard pears. I am very well on it +now since they changed the bread, though pretty tired.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, October 1st.</i>—The sky in Mid France on October 1st is of a +blue that outblues the bluest that June or any other month can do in +l'Angleterre. It is cold in the early mornings and evenings, dazzling +all day, and shining moon by night.</p> + +<p>The H.A.C. are all over the town: they do orderly duty at Headquarters +and all the Offices; they seem to be gentlemen in Tommy's kit; fine big +lot they are. Taking it all round, the Regular British Army on Active +Service—from hoary, beribboned Generals, decorated Staff Officers of +all ranks, other officers, and N.C.O.'s down to the humblest Tommy—is +the politest and best-mannered thing I have ever met, with few +exceptions. Wherever you are, or go, or have to wait, they come and ask +if they can do anything for you, generally with an engaging smile seize +your hand-baggage, offer you chairs and see you through generally. And +the men and N.C.O.'s are just the same, and always awfully grateful if +you can help them out with the language in any way.</p> + +<p>This was a conversation I heard in my ward to-day. Brother of +Captain —— (wounded) visits the amputation man, and, by way of cheering +him up, sits down, gazes at his ugly bandaged stump on a pillow, and +says—</p> + +<p>"That must be the devil."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," says the leg man.</p> + +<p>"Hell," says the other, and then they both seemed to feel better and +began to talk of something else.</p> + +<p>We had a funeral of an Orderly and a German from No.— Sta. (both +tetanus). On grey transport waggons with big black horses, wreaths from +the Orderlies, carried by a big R.A.M.C. escort (which, of course, +escorted the German too), with Officers and Padre and two Sisters.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, October 2nd.</i>—They continue to die every day and night at both +Hospitals, though we are taking few new cases in now.</p> + +<p>I am frightfully attached to Le Mans as a place. The town is old and +curly, and full of lovely corners and "Places," and views and Avenues +and Gardens. The Cathedral grows more and more upon one; I have several +special spots where you get the most exquisite poems of colour and +stone, where I go and browse; it is very quiet and beautifully kept.</p> + +<p>No.— Sta. is also set in a jewel of a spot. A Jesuits' College, full +of cloisters covered with vines, and lawns with silver statues, shady +avenues and sunny gardens, long corridors and big halls which are the +wards; the cook-house is a camp under a splendid row of big chestnut +trees, and there is of course a chapel.</p> + +<p>Our occupation of it is rather incongruous; there is practically no +furniture except the boys' beds, some chairs, many crucifixes and +statues, terribly primitive sanitary arrangements and water supply. We +have to boil our instruments and make their tea in the same one saucepan +in the Officers' Ward; you do without dusters, dishcloths, soap-dishes, +pillow-cases, and many other necessities in peace time.</p> + +<p>My little Train-Junior has been taken off that job and is to rejoin her +unit, so I settled down to a prospect of the same fate (No.— G.H. is +at Havre again! and has still not yet done any work! so you see what +I've been rescued from). I met Miss —— to-night and asked her, and she +says I <i>am</i> going on the train when it comes in, so I breathe again.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, October 6th.</i>—I am now dividing my time between the top floor +of Tommies and five Germans and the Officers' Ward, where I relieve +S. —— for meals and off duty. There are some bad dressings in the top +ward. The five Germans are quiet, fat, and amenable, glad to exchange a +few remarks in their own language. I haven't had time to try and talk to +them, but will if I can; two of them are very badly wounded. Some of the +medical Tommies make the most of very small ailments, but the surgicals +are wonderful boys.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, October 7th.</i>—I have been down to the station this evening; +heard that St Nazaire is being given up as a base, which means that no +more ambulance trains will come through.</p> + +<p>The five Germans in my ward told me this morning that only the Reichstag +and the Kaiser wanted the War; that Russia began it, so Deutschland +<i>mussen</i>; that Deutschland couldn't win against Russia, France, England, +Belgium, and Japan; and that there were no more men in Germany to +replace the killed. They smiled peacefully at the prospect and said it +was <i>ganz gut</i> to be going to England. They have fat, pink, ruminating, +innocent, fair faces, and are very obedient. I made one of them scrub +the floor, as the Orderly had a bad arm from inoculation, and he seemed +to enjoy it. Only one is married.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, October 8th.</i>—There was a very picturesque and rather +touching scene at No.— this afternoon. They had a concert in the open +quadrangle, with vined cloisters on all four sides, and holy statues and +crucifixes about. In the middle were the audience—rows of stretchers +with contented Tommies smoking and enjoying it (some up in their +grey-blue pyjamas), and many Orderlies, some Sisters and M.O.'s and +French priests; the piano on a platform at one end.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, October 9th.</i>—My compound fractured femur man told me how he +stopped his bullet. Some wounded Germans held up the white flag and he +went to them to help them. When he was within seven yards, the man he +was going to help shot him in the thigh. A Coldstream Guardsman with +him then split the German's head open with the butt-end of his rifle. +The wounded Tommy was eventually taken to the château of the "lidy what +killed the Editor somewhere in this country."</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, October 10th.</i>—"Orders by Lt.-Col. ——, R.A.M.C., A.D.M.S., +Advanced Base Headquarters, October 10th, 1914. Sister —— will proceed +to Villeneuve Triage to-day, and on arrival will report to Major ——, +R.A.M.C, for duty on Ambulance Trains."</p> + +<p>So it's come at last, and I have handed over my officers, and am now +installed by the R.T.O. in a 1st class carriage to myself with all my +kit, and my lovely coat and muffler, and rug and cushion, after a +pleasant dinner of tea, cheese, and ration biscuits in the Red Cross +Dressing Room, with a kind Army Sister.</p> + +<p>The R.T.O. this time has given me (instead of 12 A.S.C. men) a highly +important envelope marked Very Urgent, to give to the Director of +Supplies, Villeneuve, whoever he is.</p> + +<p>Change at Versailles in about six hours, so I may as well try and get +some sleep.</p> + +<p>I was really sorry to say good-bye to my kind old Madame Bontevin, 22 +Rue de la Motte, and fat Fanny, and charming Isabel, and my nice little +room—(a heavenly bed!)—and ducky little gay garden, where I've lived +for the last month; and my beloved Cathedral, and lots of the Sisters I +have got to know.</p> + + +<p><i>Versailles</i>, 7 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, <i>Sunday, October 11th.</i>—At 3 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> at Chartres an officer of a Zouave Regiment, in blue and +gold Zouave, blue sash, crimson bags like petticoats, and black puttees, +and his smartly dressed sister, came into my carriage; both very nice +and polite and friendly. He was 21, had fought in three campaigns, and +been wounded twice; now convalescent after a wound in the foot a month +ago—going to the depôt to rejoin. Her husband also at the front, and +another brother. I changed at Versailles, and was given tea, and a +slight wash by the always hospitable station duty Sisters, who welcome +you at every big station. The No.— G.H. here they belong to is a very +fine hotel with lovely gardens, and they are very proud of it—close to +the Palace.</p> + +<p>10 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, <i>Juvisy.</i>—I am now in an empty 1st class saloon +(where I can take a long walk) after a long wait, with <i>café au lait</i> +and an omelette at Juvisy, and 'The Times' of October 5th.</p> + +<p>There is a pleasing uncertainty about one's own share on Active Service. +I haven't the slightest idea whether, when I get to Villeneuve in half +an hour's time, I shall—</p> + +<p>(<i>a</i>) Remain there awaiting orders either in a French billet, a railway +carriage, or a tent;</p> + +<p>(<i>b</i>) Be sent up to Braisne to join a train; or</p> + +<p>(<i>c</i>) Be sent down to Havre to ditto.</p> + +<p>We had a man in No.— Stationary who got through the famous charge of +the 9th Lancers unhurt, but came into hospital for an ingrowing toe +nail!</p> + +<p><i>Villeneuve</i>, 5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Like a blithering idiot, I was so +interested in the Gunner's Diary of his birthday "in my hole" that I +passed Villeneuve Triage, and got out the station after! Had to wait +1-1/2 hours for a train back, and got here eventually at 12. Collared +four polite London Scottish to carry my baggage, and found the Sister in +charge of Train Ambulance people.</p> + +<p>I wish I could describe this extraordinary place. It is the Swindon of +France; a huge wilderness of railway lines, trains, and enormous +hangars, now used as camps and hospitals. Sister B. is encamped in a +shut-off corner of one of these sheds surrounded by London Scottish +cooking and making tea in little groups; they swarm here. I sleep +to-night in the same small bed in an empty cottage with a Sister I've +never seen before. We meal at a Convent French Hospital. I delivered my +"Very Urgent" envelope to the R.T.O. for the Director of Supplies, and +reported to Major ——, and after lunch had an hour's sleep on The Bed. +There are rows of enterics on stretchers in khaki in this shed, waiting +for motor ambulances to take them to Versailles No.— G.H., being +nursed here meanwhile. There are also British prisoners (defaulters) +penned in in another corner, and French troops at the other end!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (1)</h4> + +<h5>FIRST EXPERIENCES</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>October 13, 1914, to October 19, 1914</i></p> + +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"In lonely watches, night by night</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Great visions burst upon my sight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For down the stretches of the sky</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The hosts of dead go marching by.</span><br /> +</p> +<br /> +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dear Christ, who reignst above the flood</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of human tears and human blood,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A weary road these men have trod:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O house them in the home of God."</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (1).</h4> + +<h5>FIRST EXPERIENCES.</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>October 13, 1914, to October 19, 1914.</i></p> + +<p class="center">Ambulance Train—Under fire—Tales of the Retreat—Life on the Train.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, October 13th.</i>—At last I am on the train, and have just +unpacked. There is an Army Sister and two Reserve, a Major ——, O.C., +and two junior officers.</p> + +<p>Don't know yet what messing arrangements are. We each have a bunk to +ourselves, with a proper mattress, pillow, and blankets: a table and +seat at one end, lots of racks and hooks, and a lovely little +washing-house leading out of the bunk, shared by the two Sisters on each +side of it: each has a door into it. No one knows where we are going; we +start this afternoon.</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Not off yet. We had lunch in a small dining-car, we +four Sisters at one table, Major —— and his two Civil Surgeons at +another, and some French officials of the train at another. Meal cooked +and served by the French—quite nice, no cloth, only one knife and fork. +They are all very friendly and jolly.</p> + +<p>In between the actual dealing with the wounded, which is only too real, +it all feels like a play or a dream: why should the whole of France, at +any rate along the railways and places on them, be upside down, swarming +with British soldiers, and all, French and English, working for and +talking of the one thing? everything, and every house and every hotel, +school, and college, being used for something different from what it was +meant for; the billeting is universal. You hear a funny alternation of +educated and uneducated English on all sides of you, and loud French +gabbling of all sorts. By day you see aeroplanes and troop trains and +artillery trains; and by night you see searchlights and hear the +incessant wailing and squawking of the train whistles. On every platform +and at every public doors or gates are the red and blue French soldiers +with their long spikey bayonets, or our Tommies with the short broad +bayonets that don't look half so deadly though I expect they are much +worse. You either have to have a written passport up here, or you must +know the "mot" if challenged by the French sentries. All this from Havre +and St Nazaire up to the Front.</p> + +<p>The train is one-third mile long, so three walks along its side gives +you exercise for a mile. The ward beds are lovely: broad and soft, with +lovely pillow-cases and soft thick blankets; any amount of dressings and +surgical equipment, and a big kitchen, steward's store, and three +orderlies to each waggon. Shouldn't be surprised if we get "there" in +the dark, and won't see the war country. Sometimes you are stopped by +bridges being blown up in front of you, and little obstacles of that +kind.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, October 14th.</i>—Still in the siding "waiting for orders" to +move on. There's a lot of waiting being done in this war one way and +another, as well as a lot of doing. What a splendid message the French +Government have sent the Belgian Government on coming to Havre! exciting +for the people at Havre: they used to go mad when dusty motor-cars with +a few exhausted-looking Belgians arrived in Havre.</p> + +<p>We seem to be going to Rouen and up from there. Villeneuve is going to +be evacuated as a military P.O. centre and other headquarters, and +Abbeville to be the place—west of Amiens.</p> + +<p>I had an excellent night, no sheets (because of the difficulties of +washing), my own rug next me, and lots of blankets: the view, with +trucks on each side, is not inspiring, but will improve when we move: +have only been allowed walks alongside the train to-day because it may +move at any minute (although it has no engine as yet!), and you mayn't +leave the train without a pass from the Major.</p> + +<p>M.O.'s and Sisters live on one waggon, all our little doors opening into +the same corridor, where we have tea; it is a very easy family party. +Our beds are all sofas in the daytime and quite public, unless we like +to shut our doors. It is pouring to-day—first wet day for weeks.</p> + +<p>Orders just come that we move at 8.46 for Abbeville, and get orders for +the Front from there.</p> + +<p>6.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Another order just come that our destination is +Braisne, not Abbeville. They have always seen shells bursting at +Braisne. I'm glad it's Braisne, as we shall get to the other part next +journey, I expect.</p> + +<p>8.45 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Started at last.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, October 15th</i>, 10 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Braisne. Got here about 8 +o'clock. After daylight only evidence of the war I could see from my bed +were long lines of French troops in the roads, and a few British camps; +villages all look deserted. Guns booming in the distance, sounds like +heavy portmanteaux being dropped on the roof at regular intervals. Some +London Scottish on the station say all the troops have gone from here +except themselves and the R.A.M.C. There are some wounded to come on +here.</p> + +<p>There is an R.E. camp just opposite in a very wet wood, and quagmires of +mud. They have built Kaffir kraals to sleep in—very sodden-looking; +they've just asked for some papers; we had a few. They build pontoons +over the Aisne at night and camp here by day.</p> + +<p>4 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We have only taken twelve cases on as yet, but are +having quite an exciting afternoon. Shells are coming at intervals into +the village. I've seen two burst in the houses, and one came right over +our train. Two French soldiers on the line lay flat on their faces; one +or two orderlies got under the train; one went on fishing in the pond +close by, and the wounded Tommies got rather excited, and translated the +different sounds of "them Jack Johnsons" and "them Coal-boxes" and +"Calamity Kate," and of our guns and a machine-gun popping. There is a +troop train just behind us that they may be potting at, or some gunners +in the village, or the R.E. camp. There have been two aeroplanes over us +this afternoon. You hear the shell coming a long way off, rather like a +falsetto motor-engine, and then it bursts (twice in the trees of this +wood where we are standing). There is an endless line of French horse +transport winding up the wood on the other side, and now some French +cavalry. The R.T.O. is now having the train moved to a safer place.</p> + +<p>The troops have all gone except the 1st Division, who are waiting for +the French to take their place, and then all the British will be on the +Arras line, I believe, where we shall go next. (There's another close to +the train.) They make such a fascinating purring noise coming, ending in +a singing scream; you have to jump up and see. It is a yellowish-green +sound! But you can't see it till it bursts.</p> + +<p>None of the twelve taken on need any looking after at night besides what +the orderly can do, so we shall go to bed.</p> + +<p>We had another shell over the train, which (not the train) exploded with +a loud bang in the wood the other side; made one jump more than any yet, +and that was in the "safer place" the R.T.O. had the train moved to.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, October 16th</i>, 2 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Have had a very busy time since +last entry. The shelling of the village was aimed at the church, the +steeple of which was being used by the French for signalling. A butcher +was killed and a boy injured, and as the British Clearing Hospital was +in the church and the French Hospital next door they were all cleared +out into our train; many very bad cases, fractured spine, a nearly +dying lung case, a boy with wound in lung and liver, three pneumonias, +some bad enterics (though the worst have not been moved). A great +sensation was having four badly wounded French women, one minus an arm, +aged 16; another minus a foot, aged 61, amputation after shell wounds +from a place higher up. They are in the compartment next three wounded +officers. They are all four angelically good and brave and grateful; it +does seem hard luck on them. It was not easy getting them all settled +in, in a pitch-dark evening, the trains so high from the ground; and a +good deal of excitement all round over the shelling, which only left off +at dusk. One of the C.S.'s had a narrow shave on his way from the train +to the R.T.O.; he had just time to lie flat, and it burst a few yards +from him, on the line. S. and I stayed up till 3 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> and then +called the others, and we got up again at 8 and were all busy all the +morning. It is a weird business at night, picking your way through +kitchens and storerooms and wards with a lantern over the rickety +bridges and innumerable heavy swing-doors. I was glad of the brown +overall G. sent me, and am wearing the mackintosh apron to-day that N. +made me. We are probably staying here several days, and are doing day +and night duty entire—not divided as last night. I am on day. We have a +great many washings in the morning, and have to make one water do for +one compartment—(the train ran out of water this morning—since +refilled from the river alongside); and bed-makings, and a lot of +four-hourly treatment with the acutes. The enteric ward has a very good +orderly, and excellent disinfecting arrangements. It is in my division +of the train. Lack of drinking water makes things very difficult.</p> + +<p>I thought things were difficult in the hospitals at Le Mans owing to +lack of equipment, but that was child's play compared to the structural +difficulties of working a hospital on a train, especially when it stands +in a siding several days. One man will have to die on the train if we +don't move soon, but we are not full up yet. Twenty-seven men—minor +cases—bolted from the church yesterday evening on to the train when the +shells were dropping, and were ignominiously sent back this morning.</p> + +<p>It has so far been the most exciting journey the train has had. Jack +Johnson has been very quiet all the morning, but he spoke for a little +again just now. I'm going to have a rest now till four.</p> + +<p>Four Tommies in one bunk yesterday told me things about the trenches and +the fighting line, which you have to believe because they are obviously +giving recent intimate personal experiences; but how do they or any one +ever live through it? These came all through the Retreat from Mons. +Then through the wet weather in the trenches on the Aisne—where they +don't always get hot tea (as is said in the papers, much to their +scorn). They even had to take the tea and sugar out of the haversacks of +dead Germans; no one had had time to bury for twelve days—"it warn't no +use to them," they said, "and we could do with it."</p> + +<p>In the Retreat they said men's boots were worn right off and they +marched without; the packs were thrown away, and the young boys died of +exhaustion and heat. The officers guarded each pump in case they should +drink bad water, and they drank water wrung out of their towels!</p> + +<p>"And just as Bill got to the pump the shell burst on him—it made a +proper mess of him"—this with a stare of horror. And they never +criticise or rant about it, but accept it as their share for the time +being.</p> + +<p>The train is to-day in a place with a perfect wood on both sides, +glowing with autumn colours, and through it goes a road with continual +little parties of French cavalry, motors, and transport waggons passing +up it.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, October 17th.</i>—We are to stay here till Monday, to go on +taking up the wounded from the 1st Division. They went on coming in all +yesterday in motor ambulances. They come straight from the trenches, and +are awfully happy on the train with the first attempts at comforts they +have known. One told me they were just getting their tea one day, +relieving the trenches, when "one o' them coal-boxes" sent a 256 lb. +shell into them, which killed seven and wounded fifteen. <i>One</i> shell! He +said he had to help pick them up and it made him sick.</p> + +<p>10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Wrote the last before breakfast, and we haven't sat +down since. We are to move back to Villeneuve to-morrow, dropping the +sick probably at Versailles. Every one thankful to be going to move at +last. The gas has given out, and the entire train is lit by candles.</p> + +<p>Imagine a hospital as big as King's College Hospital all packed into a +train, and having to be self-provisioned, watered, sanitated, lit, +cleaned, doctored and nursed and staffed and officered, all within its +own limits. No outside person can realise the difficulties except those +who try to work it.</p> + +<p>The patients are extraordinarily good, and take everything as it comes +(or as it doesn't come!) without any grumbling. Your day is taken up in +rapidly deciding which of all the things that want doing you must let go +undone; shall they be washed or fed, or beds made, or have their +hypodermics and brandies and medicines, or their dressings done? You end +in doing some of each in each carriage, or in washing them after dinner +instead of before breakfast.</p> + +<p>The guns have been banging all the afternoon; some have dropped pretty +near again to-day, but you haven't time to take much notice. Our meals +are very funny—always candles stuck in a wine bottle—no +tablecloth—everything on one plate with the same knife and fork—coffee +in a glass, served by a charming dirty Frenchman; many jokes going on +between the three tables—the French officials, the M.O.'s, and us. Our +own bunks are quite civilised and cosy, though as small as half a big +bathing-machine—swept out by our batman.</p> + +<p>We have some French wounded and sick on the train.</p> + +<p>I see some parsons are enlisting in the R.A.M.C. I hope they know how to +scrub floors, clean lavatories, dish out the meals, sleep on the floor, +go without baths, live on Maconochie rations, and heave bales and boxes +about, and carry stretchers; the orderlies have a very hard life—and no +glory.</p> + +<p>Must turn in.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, October 18th</i>, 9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Got under way at 6 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, and are now about half-way between Paris and Rouen. We +outskirted Paris. Passed a train full of Indian troops. Put off the four +wounded women at Paris; they have been a great addition to the work, but +very sweet and brave; the orderlies couldn't do enough for them; they +adored them, and were so indignant at their being wounded. Another man +died to-day—shot through the pelvis. One of the enterics, a Skye man, +thinks I'm his mother; told me to-night there was a German spy in his +carriage, and that he had "50 dead Jocks to bury—and it wasn't the +buryin' he didn't like but the feeling of it." He babbles continually of +Germans, ammunition, guns, Jocks, and rations.</p> + +<p>Sunday is not Sunday, of course, on a train: no Padre, no services, no +nothing—not even any Time. The only thing to mark it to-day is one of +the Civil Surgeons wearing his new boots.</p> + +<p>We shan't get any letters yet till we get to the new railhead. I'm +hoping we shall get time at Rouen to see the Cathedral, do some +shopping, have a bath and a shampoo, but probably shan't.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, October 19th.</i>—Rouen, 9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> Got here late last +night, and all the wounded were taken off straight away to the two +general hospitals here.</p> + +<p>One has 1300 cases, and has kept two people operating day and night. A +great many deaths from tetanus.</p> + +<p>Seen General French's 2nd despatch (of September) to-day in 'Daily +Mail.' No mail in, alas! Had a regular debauch in cathedrals and baths +to-day. This is the most glorious old city, two cathedrals of surpassing +beauty, lovely old streets, broad river, hills, and lovely hot baths and +hair shampooing. What with two cathedrals, a happy hour in a hot bath, a +shampoo, and delicious tea in the town, we've had a happy day. The train +stays here to-night and we are off to-morrow? for ——?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (2)</h4> + +<h5>FIRST BATTLE OF YPRES</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>October 20, 1914, to November 17, 1914</i></p> + +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"The thundering line of battle stands,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">And in the air Death moans and sings;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But Day shall clasp him with strong hands,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">And Night shall fold him with soft wings."</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;" class="smcap" >—Julian Grenfell.</span><br /> +<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IV.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (2).</h4> + +<h5>FIRST BATTLE OF YPRES.</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>October 20, 1914, to November 17, 1914.</i></p> + +<p class="center">Rouen—First Battle of Ypres—At Ypres—A rest—A General Hospital.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, October 20th</i>, 6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Just leaving Rouen for +Boulogne. We've seen some of the Indians. The Canadians seem to be still +on Salisbury Plain. No one knows what we're going to Boulogne empty for.</p> + +<p>We have been busy to-day getting the train ready, stocking dressings, +&c. All the 500 blankets are sent in to be fumigated after each journey, +and 500 others drawn instead. And well they may be; one of the +difficulties is the lively condition of the men's shirts and trousers +(with worse than fleas) when they come from the trenches in the same +clothes they've worn for five weeks or more. You can't wonder we made +tracks for a bath at Rouen.</p> + +<p>We've just taken on two Belgian officers who want a lift to Boulogne.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, October 21st.</i>—Arrived at Boulogne 6 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> Went on +to Calais, and reached St Omer at 2 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, where I believe we +are to take up from the motor ambulances. A train of Indians is here. +Some Belgian refugees boarded the train at Boulogne, and wanted a lift +to Calais, but had to be turned off reluctantly on both sides. Have been +going through bedding equipment to-day.</p> + +<p>No mail for me yet, but the others have had one to-day.</p> + +<p>3.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Off for Steenwerck, close to the Belgian frontier, +N.W. of Lille. Good business Just seen five aeroplanes. Have been warned +by Major —— to wear brassards in prominent place, owing to dangerous +journey in view!</p> + +<p>4.30.—This feels like the Front again. Thousands and thousands of +Indian troops are marching close to the line, with long fair British +officers in turbans, mounted, who salute us, and we wave back; transport +on mules. Gorgeous sunset going on; perfectly flat country; no railway +traffic except <i>de la Guerre</i>.</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, <i>Steenwerck</i>.—Pitch dark; saw big guns flashing some +way off. The motor ambulances are not yet in with the wounded. The line +is cut farther on.</p> + +<p>8 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We have had dinner, and have just been down the line to +see the place about 100 yards off. The Germans were here six days ago; +got into a big sewer that goes under the line, and blew it up. There is +a hole 30 feet long, 15 across and 15 deep—very good piece of work. +They occupied the station, and bragged about getting across to England +from Calais. The M.O. who lives here, to be the link (with a sergeant +and seven men) between the field ambulances and the trains, dined with +us. It is a wee place. The station is his headquarters.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, October 22nd.</i>—Took on from convoys all night in pitch +darkness—a very bad load this time; going to go septic; swelling under +the bandages. There was a fractured spine and a malignant œdema, both +dying; we put these two off to-day at St Omer. We came straight away in +the morning, and are now nearly back at Boulogne.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>YPRES.</b></p> + +<p><i>Friday, October 23rd.</i>—All unloaded by 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> last night. +(1800 in a day and a night.) No.— A.T. was in; visited M. and S. Bed +by 12; clothes on for forty hours. Slept alongside quay. Two hospital +ships in; watched them loading up from ambulances. No time to go ashore. +The wounded officers we had this time said the fighting at the Front is +very heavy. The men said the same. They slept from sheer exhaustion +almost before their boots were got off, and before the cocoa came round. +In the morning they perked up very pleased with their sleep, and talked +incessantly of the trenches, and the charges, and the odds each regiment +had against them, and how many were left out of their company, and all +the most gruesome details you can imagine. They seem to get their blood +up against the Germans when they're actually doing the fighting—"you're +too excited to notice what hits you, or to think of anything but your +life" ("and your country," one man added). "Some of us has got to get +killed, and some wounded, and some captured, and we wonder which is for +us."</p> + +<p>11.15.—Just off for ——? I was in the act of trotting off into the town +to find the baths, when I met a London Scottish with a very urgent note +for the O.C.; thought I'd better bide a wee, and it was to say "Your +train is urgently required; how soon can you start?" So I had a lucky +escape of being left behind. (We had leave till 1 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>) Then +the Major nearly got left; we couldn't start that minute, because our +stores weren't all in, and the R.T.O. came up in a great fuss that we +were holding up five supply trains and reinforcements; so the British +Army had to wait for us.</p> + +<p>The worst discomforts of this life are (<i>a</i>) cold; (<i>b</i>) want of +drinking water when you're thirsty; (<i>c</i>) the appalling atmosphere of +the French dining-car; (<i>d</i>) lack of room for a bath, and difficulty of +getting hot water; (<i>e</i>) dirt; (<i>f</i>) eccentricities in the meals; (<i>g</i>) +bad (or no) lights; (<i>h</i>) difficulties of getting laundry done; (<i>i</i>) +personal capture of various live stock; (<i>j</i>) broken nights; (<i>k</i>) want +of exercise on the up journey. Against all these minor details put being +at the Front, and all that that includes of thrilling interest,—being +part of the machinery to give the men the first care and comparative +comfort since they landed, at the time they most need it—and least +expect it.</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Hazebrouck again. We are said to be going to Belgium +this time—possibly Ypres. There are a terrible lot of wounded to be got +down—more than all the trains can take; they are putting some of them +off on the stations where there is a M.O. with a few men, and going back +for more.</p> + +<p>There were two lovely French torpedo-boats alongside of us at Boulogne.</p> + +<p>7.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, <i>Ypres</i>.—Just arrived, all very bucked at being in +Belgium. An armoured train, protective coloured all over in huge dabs +of red, blue, yellow, and green against aeroplanes, is alongside of us +in the station, manned by thirty men R.N.; three trucks are called +Nelson, Jellicoe, and Drake, with guns. They look fine; the men say it +is a great game. They are directed where to fire at German positions or +batteries, and as soon as they answer, the train nips out of range. They +were very jolly, and showed us their tame rabbit on active service. They +have had no casualties so far. Our load hasn't come in yet. We are <i>two +miles</i> from our fighting line. No firing to-night to be heard—soon +began, though.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, October 25th.</i>—Couldn't write last night: the only thing was +to try and forget it all. It has been an absolute hell of a +journey—there is no other word for it. First, you must understand that +this big battle from Ostend to Lille is perhaps the most desperate of +all, though that is said of each in turn—Mons, the Aisne, and this; but +the men and officers who have been through all say this is the worst. +The Germans are desperate, and stick at nothing, and the Allies are the +same; and in determination to drive them back, each man personally seems +to be the same. Consequently the "carnage" is being appalling, and we +have been practically in it, as far as horrors go. Guns were cracking +and splitting all night, lighting up the sky in flashes, and fires were +burning on both sides. The Clearing Hospital close by, which was +receiving the wounded from the field and sending them on to us, was +packed and overflowing with badly wounded, the M.O. on the station said.</p> + +<p>We had 368; a good 200 were dangerously and seriously wounded, perhaps +more; and the sitting-up cases were bad enough. The compound-fractured +femurs were put up with rifles and pick-handles for splints, padded with +bits of kilts and straw; nearly all the men had more than one +wound—some had ten; one man with a huge compound fracture above the +elbow had tied on a bit of string with a bullet in it as a tourniquet +above the wound himself. When I cut off his soaked three layers of +sleeve there was no dressing on it at all.</p> + +<p>They were bleeding faster than we could cope with it; and the agony of +getting them off the stretchers on to the top bunks is a thing to +forget. We were full up by about 2 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, and then were delayed +by a collision up the line, which was blocked by dead horses as a +result. All night and without a break till we got back to Boulogne at 4 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span> next day (yesterday) we grappled with them, and some were +not dressed when we got into B——. The head cases were delirious, and +trying to get out of the window, and we were giving strychnine and +morphia all round. Two were put off dying at St Omer, but we kept the +rest alive to Boulogne. The outstanding shining thing that hit you in +the eye all through was the universal silent pluck of the men; they +stuck it all without a whine or complaint or even a comment: it was, +"Would you mind moving my leg when you get time," and "Thank you very +much," or "That's absolutely glorious," as one boy said on having his +bootlace cut, or "That's grand," when you struck a lucky position for a +wound in the back. One badly smashed up said contentedly, "I was +lucky—I was the only man left alive in our trench"; so was another in +another trench; sixteen out of twenty-five of one Company in a trench +were on the train, all seriously wounded except one. One man with both +legs smashed and other wounds was asked if it was all by one shell: "Oh +yes; why, the man next me was blowed to bits." The bleeding made them +all frightfully thirsty (they had only been hit a few hours many of +them), and luckily we had got in a good supply of boiled water +beforehand on each carriage, so we had plenty when there was time to get +it. In the middle of the worst of it in the night I became conscious of +a Belgian Boy Scout of fourteen in the corridor, with a glass and a pail +of drinking water; that boy worked for hours with his glass and pail on +his own, or wherever you sent him. We took him back to Calais. He had +come up into the firing line on his cycle fitted with a rifle, with +tobacco for the troops, and lived with the British whom he loved, +sharing their rations. He was a little brick; one of the Civil Surgeons +got him taken back with us, where he wanted to go.</p> + +<p>There were twenty-five officers on the train. They said there were +11,000 Germans dead, and they were using the dead piled up instead of +trenches.</p> + +<p>About 1 o'clock that night we heard a rifle shot: it was a German spy +shooting at the sentry sailor on the armoured train alongside of us; +they didn't catch him.</p> + +<p>It took from 4 to 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> to unload our bad cases and get them +into hospitals on motor ambulances: they lay in rows on their stretchers +on the platform waiting their turn without a grumble.</p> + +<p>There have been so many hundreds brought down this week that they've had +suddenly to clear four hotels for hospitals.</p> + +<p>We are now in the filthiest of sidings, and the smell of the burning of +our heaps of filthy <i>débris</i> off the train is enough to make you sick. +We all slept like logs last night, and could have gone on all day; but +the train has to be cleaned down by the orderlies, and everything got +ready for the next lot: they nearly moved us up again last night, but we +shall go to-day.</p> + +<p>I think if one knew beforehand what all this was going to be like one +would hardly want to face it, but somehow you're glad to be there.</p> + +<p>We were tackling a bad wound in the head, and when it was finished and +the man was being got comfortable, he flinched and remarked, "That leg +is a beast." We found a compound-fractured femur put up with a rifle for +a splint! He had blankets on, and had never mentioned that his thigh was +broken. It too had to be packed, and all he said was, "That leg <i>is</i> a +beast," and "That leg is a <i>Beast</i>."</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, the 26th</i>, 7 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, <i>Ypres</i>.—We got here again about +10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> last night in pouring wet, and expected another night +like Friday night, but we for some reason remained short of the station, +and when we found there was nothing doing, lay down in our clothes and +slept, booted and spurred in mackintosh, aprons, &c. We were all so +tired and done up yesterday, M.O.'s, Sisters, and orderlies, that we +were glad of the respite. There was a tremendous banging and flashing to +the north about three o'clock, and this morning it was very noisy, and +shaking the train. Some of it sounds quite close. It is a noise you +rather miss when it leaves off.</p> + +<p>One of the last lot of officers told us he had himself seen in a barn +three women and some children, all dead, and all with no hands.</p> + +<p>The noise this morning is like a continuous roll of thunder interrupted +by loud bangs, and the popping of the French mitrailleuses, like our +Maxims. The nearest Tommy can get to that word is "mileytrawsers." There +are two other A.T.'s in, but I hear we are to load up first.</p> + +<p>This place is full of Belgian women and children refugees in a bad way +from exhaustion.</p> + +<p>A long line of our horse ambulances is coming slowly in.</p> + +<p>Had a very interesting morning. Got leave to go into the town and see +the Cathedral of St Martin. None of the others would budge from the +train, so I went alone; town chock-full of French and Belgian troops, +and unending streams of columns, also Belgian refugees, cars full of +staff officers. The Cathedral is thirteenth century, glorious as usual. +There are hundreds of German prisoners in the town in the Cloth Hall. It +was a very warrish feeling saying one's prayers in the Cathedral to the +sound of the guns of one of the greatest battles in the world.</p> + +<p>An M.O. from the Clearing Hospital, with a haggard face, asked me if I +could give him some eau-de-Cologne and Bovril for a wounded officer +with a gangrenous leg—lying on the station. Sister X. and I took some +down, also morphia, and fed them all—frightful cases on stretchers in +the waiting-room. They are for our train when we can get in. He told me +he had never seen such awful wounds, or such numbers of them. They are +being brought down in carts or anything. He said there are 1500 dead +Germans piled up in a field five miles off. They say that German +officers of ten days' service are commanding.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, October 27th, Boulogne.</i>—We got loaded up and off by about 7 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, and arrived back here this morning. There are two trains +to unload ahead of us, so we shall probably be on duty all day. It is +the second night running we haven't had our clothes off—though we did +lie down the night before. Last night we had each a four-hour shift to +lie down, when all the worst were seen to. One man died at 6 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> and another is dying: many as usual are delirious, and the +hæmorrhage was worse than ever: it is frightfully difficult to stop it +with these bad wounds and compound fractures. One sergeant has both eyes +gone from a shell wound.</p> + +<p>The twelve sitting-up cases on each carriage are a joy after the tragedy +of the rest. They sit up talking and smoking till late, "because they +are so surprised and pleased to be alive, and it is too comfortable to +sleep!"</p> + +<p>One man with a broken leg gave me both his pillows for a worse man, and +said, "I'm not bad at all—only got me leg broke." A Reading man, with +his face wounded and one eye gone, kept up a running fire of wit and +hilarity during his dressing about having himself photographed as a Guy +Fawkes for 'Sketchy Bits.'</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, October 28th.</i>—Got to Boulogne yesterday morning; then +followed a most difficult day. It was not till 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> that +they began to unload the sick. The unloading staff at Boulogne have been +so overworked night and day that trains get piled up waiting to be +unloaded. Fifty motor ambulances have been sent for to the Front, and +here they have to depend largely on volunteer people with private +motors. Then trains get blocked by other trains each side of them, and +nothing short of the fear of death will move a French engine-driver to +do what you want him to do. Meanwhile two men on our train died, and +several others were getting on with it, and all the serious cases were +in great distress and misery. As a crowning help the train was divided +into three parts, each five minutes' walk from any other—dispensary on +one bit, kitchen on another. Everybody got very desperate, and at last, +after superhuman efforts, the train was cleared by midnight, and we went +thankfully but wearily to our beds, which we had not got into for the +two previous nights.</p> + +<p>To-day was fine and sunny, and while the train was getting in stores we +went into the town to find a <i>blanchisserie</i>, and bought a cake and a +petticoat and had a breath of different air. We expect to move up again +any time now. Most welcome mails in.</p> + +<p>News of De Wet's rebellion to-day. I wonder if Botha will be able to +hold it?</p> + +<p>'The Times' of yesterday (which you can get here) and to-day's 'Daily +Mail' say the fighting beyond Ypres is "severe," but that gives the +British public no glimmering of what it really is. The —— Regiment had +three men left out of one company. The men say General —— cried on +seeing the remains of the regiments who answered the rolls. And yet we +still drive the Germans back.</p> + +<p>There is a train full of slightly wounded Indians in: they are cooking +chupatties on nothing along the quay. The boats were packed with refugee +families yesterday. We had some badly wounded Germans on our train and +some French officers. The British Army doesn't intend the Germans to +get to Calais, and they won't get.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, October 29th, Nieppe.</i>—Woke up to the familiar bangs and +rattles again—this time at a wee place about four miles from +Armentières. We are to take up 150 here and go back to Bailleul for 150 +there. It is a lovely sunny morning, but very cold; the peasants are +working in the fields as peacefully as at home. An R.A.M.C. lieutenant +was killed by a shell three miles from here three days ago. We've just +been giving out scarves and socks to some Field Ambulance men along the +line.</p> + +<p>Just seen a British aeroplane send off a signal to our batteries—a long +smoky snake in the sky; also a very big British aeroplane with a +machine-gun on her. A German aeroplane dropped a bomb into this field on +Tuesday, meant for the Air Station here. This is the Headquarters of the +4th Division.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, October 30th, Boulogne.</i>—While we were at Nieppe, after +passing Bailleul, a German aeroplane dropped a bomb on to Bailleul. +After filling up at Nieppe we went back to Bailleul and took up 238 +Indians, mostly with smashed left arms from a machine-gun that caught +them in the act of firing over a trench. They are nearly all 47th Sikhs, +perfect lambs: they hold up their wounded hands and arms like babies for +you to see, and insist on having them dressed whether they've just been +done or not. They behave like gentlemen, and salaam after you've dressed +them. They have masses of long, fine, dark hair under their turbans done +up with yellow combs, glorious teeth, and melting dark eyes. One died. +The younger boys have beautiful classic Italian faces, and the rest have +fierce black beards curling over their ears.</p> + +<p>We carried 387 cases this time.</p> + +<p><i>Later.</i>—We got unloaded much more quickly to-day, and have been able +to have a good rest this afternoon, as I went to bed at 3 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> +and was up again by 8. It was not so heavy this time, as the Indians +were mostly sitting-up cases. Those of a different caste had to sleep on +the floor of the corridors, as the others wouldn't have them in. One +compartment of four lying-down ones got restless with the pain of their +arms, and I found them all sitting up rocking their arms and wailing +"Aie, Aie, Aie," poor pets. They all had morphia, and subsided. One +British Tommy said to me: "Don't take no notice o' the dirt on me +flesh, Sister; I ain't 'ad much time to wash!" quite seriously.</p> + +<p>Another bad one needed dressing. I said, "I won't hurt you." And he said +in a hopeless sort of voice, "I don't care if you do." He had been +through a little too much.</p> + +<p>It is fine getting the same day's London 'Daily Mail' here by the +Folkestone boat.</p> + +<p>It is interesting to hear the individual men express their conviction +that the British will never let the Germans through to Calais. They seem +as keen as the Generals or the Government. That is why we have had such +thousands of wounded in Boulogne in this one week. It is quite difficult +to nurse the Germans, and impossible to love your enemies. We always +have some on the train. One man of the D.L.I. was bayoneted in three +different places, after being badly wounded in the arm by a dumdum +bullet. (They make a small entrance hole and burst the limb open in +exit.) The man who bayoneted him died in the next bed to him in the +Clearing Hospital yesterday morning. You feel that they have all been +doing that and worse. We hear at first hand from officers and men +specified local instances of unprintable wickedness.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, October 31st.</i>—Left Boulogne at twelve, and have just +reached Bailleul, 6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, where we are to take up wounded +Indians again. Somehow they are not so harrowing as the wounded British, +perhaps because of the block in language and the weirdness of them. Big +guns are booming again. (This was the most critical day of the first +battle of Ypres.)</p> + +<p>H. sent me a lovely parcel of fifty packets of cigarettes and some +chocolate, and A. sent a box of nutmilk choc. They will be grand for the +men.</p> + +<p>One drawback on having the Indians is that you find them squatting in +the corridor, comparing notes on what varieties they find in their +clothing! Considering the way one gets smothered with their blankets in +the bunks it is the most personally alarming element in the War so far.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, November 1st, Boulogne</i>—<i>All Saints' Day.</i>—We loaded up with +British after all, late in the evening, and had a very heavy night: one +of mine died suddenly of femoral hæmorrhage, after sitting up and +enjoying his breakfast.</p> + +<p><i>12 noon.</i>—We are still unloaded, but I was up all night, and so went +out for a blow after breakfast. Found two British T.B.D.'s in dock; on +one they were having divine service, close to the quay. I listened +specially to the part about loving our enemies! Then I found the +English Church (Colonial and Continental), quite nice and good chants, +but I was too sleepy to stay longer than the Psalms: it is ages since +one had a chance to go to Church.</p> + +<p>After lunch, now they are all unloaded, one will be able to get a stuffy +station sleep, regardless of noise and smells.</p> + +<p>We carried thirty-nine officers on the train, mostly cavalry, very brave +and angelic and polite in their uncomfortable and unwonted helplessness. +They liked everything enthusiastically—the beds and the food and the +bandages. One worn-out one murmured as he was tucked up, "By Jove, it is +splendid to be out of the sound of those beastly guns; it's priceless." +I had a very interesting conversation with a Major this morning, who was +hit yesterday. He says it's only a question of where and when you get +it, sooner or later; practically no one escapes.</p> + +<p>Rifle firing counts for nothing; it is all the Coal-boxes and Jack +Johnsons. The shortage of officers is getting very serious on both +sides, and it becomes more and more a question of who can wear out the +other in the time.</p> + +<p>He said that Aircraft has altered everything in War. German aeroplanes +come along, give a little dip over our positions, and away go the +German guns. And these innocent would-be peasants working in the fields +give all sorts of signals by whirling windmills round suddenly when +certain regiments come into action.</p> + +<p>The poor L. Regiment were badly cut up in this way yesterday half an +hour after coming into their first action; we had them on the train.</p> + +<p>They say the French fight well with us, better than alone, and the +Indians can't be kept in their trenches; it is up and at 'em. But we +shall soon have lost all the men we have out here. Trains and trains +full come in every day and night. We are waiting now for five trains to +unload. It is a dazzling morning.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, November 2nd.</i>—On way up to ——. The pressure on the Medical +Service is now enormous. One train came down to-day (without Sisters) +with 1200 sitting-up cases; they stayed for hours in the siding near us +without water, cigarettes, or newspapers. You will see in to-day's +'Times' that the Germans have got back round Ypres again (where I went +into the Cathedral last Monday). No.— A.T. was badly shelled there +yesterday. The Germans were trying for the armoured train. The naval +officer on the armoured train had to stand behind the engine-driver with +a revolver to make him go where he was wanted to. The sitting-up cases +on No.— got out and fled three miles down the line. A Black Maria +shell burst close to and killed a man. They are again "urgently needing" +A.T.'s; so I hope we are going there to-night.</p> + +<p>Eighty thousand German reinforcements are said to have come up to break +through our line, and the British dead are now piled up on the field. +But they aren't letting the Germans through. Three of our men died +before we unloaded at 8 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> yesterday, two of shock from lying +ten hours in the trench, not dressed.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, November 3rd, Bailleul</i>, 8.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Just going to +load up; wish we'd gone to Ypres. Germans said to be advancing.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, November 4th, Boulogne.</i>—We had a lot of badly wounded +Germans who had evidently been left many days; their condition was +appalling; two died (one of tetanus), and one British. We have had a lot +of the London Scottish, wounded in their first action.</p> + +<p>Reinforcements, French guns, British cavalry, are being hurried up the +line; they all look splendid.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, November 11th.</i>—Sometimes it seems as if we shall never +get home, the future is so unwritten.</p> + +<p>A frightful explosion like this Hell of a War, which flared up in a few +days, will take so much longer to wipe up what can be wiped up. I think +the British men who have seen the desolation and the atrocities in +Belgium have all personally settled that it shan't happen in England, +and that is why the headlines always read—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"THE BRITISH ARMY IMMOVABLE."<br /> +"WAVES OF GERMAN INFANTRY BROKEN."<br /> +"ALLIES THROW ENEMY BACK AT ALL POINTS."<br /> +"YPRES HELD FOR THREE WEEKS UNDER A RAIN OF SHELLS."</p></div> + +<p>You can tell they feel like that from their entire lack of resentment +about their own injuries. Their conversation to each other from the time +they are landed on the train until they are taken off is never about +their own wounds and feelings, but exclusively about the fighting they +have just left. If one only had time to listen or take it down it would +be something worth reading, because it is not letters home or newspaper +stuff, <i>but told to each other</i>, with their own curious comments and +phraseology, and no hint of a gallery or a Press. Incidentally one gets +a few eye-openers into what happens to a group of men when a Jack +Johnson lands a shell in the middle of them. Nearly every man on the +train, especially the badly smashed-up ones, tells you how exceptionally +lucky he was because he didn't get killed like his mate.</p> + + +<p><i>Boulogne, Thursday, November 12th</i>, 8 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Have been here all +day. Had a hot bath on the St Andrew. News from the Front handed down +the line coincides with the 'Daily Mail.'</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, 13th.</i>—Still here—fourth day of rest. No one knows why; +nearly all the trains are here. The news to-day is glorious. They say +that the Germans did get through into Ypres and were bayoneted out +again.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, November 13th, Boulogne.</i>—We have been all day in Park Lane +Siding among the trains, in pouring wet and slush. I amused myself with +a pot of white paint and a forceps and wool for a brush, painting the +numbers on both ends of the coaches inside, all down the train; you +can't see the chalk marks at night.</p> + +<p>This unprecedented four days' rest and nights in bed is doing us all a +power of good; we have books and mending and various occupations.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, November 14th.</i>—Glorious sunny day, but very cold. Still in +Boulogne, but out of Park Lane Siding slum, and among the ships again. +Some French sailors off the T.B.'s are drilling on one side of us.</p> + +<p>Everything R.A.M.C. at the base is having a rest this week—ships, +hospitals, and trains. Major S. said there was not so much doing at the +Front—thank Heaven; and the line is still wanted for troops. We have +just heard that there are several trains to go up before our turn comes, +and that we are to wait about six miles off. Better than the siding +anyhow. Meanwhile we can't go off, because we don't know when the train +will move out.</p> + +<p>The tobacco and the cigarettes from Harrod's have come in separate +parcels, so the next will be the chocolate and hankies and cards, &c. It +is a grand lot, and I am longing to get up to the Front and give them +out.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, November 15th.</i>—We got a move on in the middle of the night, +and are now on our way up.</p> + +<p>The cold of this train life is going to be rather a problem. Our +quarters are not heated, but we have "made" (<i>i.e.</i>, acquired, looted) a +very small oil-stove which faintly warms the corridor, but you can +imagine how no amount of coats or clothes keeps you warm in a railway +carriage in winter. I'm going to make a foot muff out of a brown +blanket, which will help. A smart walk out of doors would do it, but +that you can't get off when the train is stationary for fear of its +vanishing, and for obvious reasons when it is moving. I did walk round +the train for an hour in the dark and slime in the siding yesterday +evening, but it is not a cheering form of exercise.</p> + +<p>To-day it is <i>pouring</i> cats and dogs, awful for loading sick, and there +will be many after this week for the trains.</p> + +<p>Every one has of course cleared out of beautiful Ypres, but we are going +to load up at Poperinghe, the town next before it, which is now +Railhead. Lately the trains have not been so far.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, November 16th, Boulogne</i>, 9 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—We loaded up at +Bailleul 344. The Clearing Hospitals were very full, and some came off a +convoy. One of mine died. One, wounded above the knee, was four <i>days</i> +in the open before being picked up; he had six bullets in his leg, two +in each arm, and crawled about till found; one of the arm wounds he got +doing this. I went to bed at 4. The news was all good, taken as a whole, +but the men say they were "a bit short-handed!!" One said gloomily, +"This isn't War, it's Murder; you go there to your doom." Heard the sad +news of Lord Roberts.</p> + +<p>We are all the better for our week's rest.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, November 17th</i>, 3 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—When we got our load down to +Boulogne yesterday morning all the hospitals were full, and the weather +was too rough for the ships to come in and clear them, so we were +ordered on to Havre, a very long journey. A German died before we got to +Abbeville, where we put off two more very bad ones; and at Amiens we put +off four more, who wouldn't have reached Havre. About midnight something +broke on the train, and we were hung up for hours, and haven't yet got +to Rouen, so we shall have them on the train all to-morrow too, and have +all the dressings to do for the third time. One of the night orderlies +has been run in for being asleep on duty. He climbed into a top bunk +(where a Frenchman was taken off at Amiens), and deliberately covered up +and went to sleep. He was in charge of 28 patients. Another was left +behind at Boulogne, absent without leave, thinking we should unload, and +the train went off for Havre. He'll be run in too. Shows how you can't +leave the train. Just got to St Just. That looks as if we were going to +empty at Versailles instead of Havre. Lovely starlight night, but very +cold. Everybody feels pleased and honoured that Lord Roberts managed to +die with us on Active Service at Headquarters, and who would choose a +better ending to such a life?</p> + +<p>7 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—After all, we must be crawling round to Rouen for +Havre; passed Beauvais. Lovely sunrise over winter woods and frosted +country. Our load is a heavy and anxious one—344; we shall be glad to +land them safely somewhere. The amputations, fractures, and lung cases +stand these long journeys very badly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (3)</h4> + +<h5>BRITISH AND INDIANS</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>November 18, 1914, to December 17, 1914</i></p> + +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Because of you we will be glad and gay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Remembering you we will be brave and strong,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And hail the advent of each dangerous day,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And meet the Great Adventure with a song."</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">—<i>From a poem on</i> "J.G."</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>V.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (3).</h4> + +<h5>BRITISH AND INDIANS.</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>November 18, 1914, to December 17, 1914.</i></p> + +<p>The Boulogne siding—St Omer—Indian soldiers—His Majesty King +George—Lancashire men on the War—Hazebrouck—Bailleul—French +engine-drivers—Sheepskin coats—A village in N.E. France—Headquarters.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, November 18th</i>, 2 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—At last reached beautiful +Rouen, through St Just, Beauvais, and up to Sergueux, and down to Rouen. +From Sergueux through Rouen to Havre is supposed to be the most +beautiful train journey in France, which is saying a good deal. Put off +some more bad cases here; a boy sergeant, aged 24, may save his eye and +general blood-poisoning if he gets irrigated quickly. You can watch them +going wrong, with two days and two nights on the train, and it seems +such hard luck. And then if you don't write Urgent or Immediate on +their bandages in blue pencil, they get overlooked in the rush into +hospital when they are landed. So funny to be going back to old Havre, +that hot torrid nightmare of Waiting-for-Orders in August. But, thank +Heaven, we don't stop there, but back to the guns again.</p> + +<p>5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We are getting on for Havre at last. This long journey +from Belgium down to Havre has been a strange mixture. Glorious country +with the flame and blue haze of late autumn on hills, towns, and +valleys, bare beech-woods with hot red carpets. Glorious British Army +lying broken in the train—sleep (or the chance of it) three hours one +night and four the next, with all the hours between (except meals) hard +work putting the British Army together again; haven't taken off my +puttees since Sunday. Seems funny, 400 people (of whom four are women +and about sixty are sound) all whirling through France by special train. +Why? Because of the Swelled Head of the All-Highest.</p> + +<p>We had a boy with no wound, suffering from shock from shell bursts. When +he came round, if you asked him his name he would look fixedly at you +and say "Yes." If you asked him something else, with a great effort he +said "Mother."</p> + +<p>8 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Got to Havre.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 18th November</i>, 6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Sotteville, near Rouen. +This afternoon's up-journey between Havre and Rouen has been a stripe of +pure bliss with no war about it at all. A brilliant dazzling day (which +our Island couldn't do if it tried in November), rugs, coat, and cushion +on your bed, and the most heavenly view unrolling itself before you +without lifting your head to see it, ending up with the lights of Rouen +twinkling in the smoke of the factory chimneys under a flaring red +sunset.</p> + +<p>We are to stop here for repairs to the train—chauffage, electric light, +water supply, and gas all to be done. Then we shall be a very smart +train. The electric light and the heating will be the greatest help—a +chapel and a bathroom I should like added!</p> + +<p>At Havre last night the train ran into the Gare Maritime (where we left +in the <i>Asturias</i> for St Nazaire early in September), which is +immediately under the great place that No.— G.H. bagged for their +Hospital in August. I ran up and saw it all. It is absolutely first +class. There were our people off the train in lovely beds, in huge +wards, with six rows of beds—clean sheets, electric light, hot food, +and all the M.O.'s, Sisters, and Nursing Orderlies, in white overalls, +hard at work on them—orderlies removing their boots and clothing (where +we hadn't done it, we leave as much on as we can now because of the +cold). Sisters washing them and settling them in, and with the M.O. +doing their dressings, all as busy as bees, only stopping to say to us, +"Aren't they brave?" They said we'd brought them an awfully bad lot, and +we said we shed all the worst on the way. They don't realise that by the +time they get to the base these men are beyond complaining; each stage +is a little less infernal to them than the one they've left; and instead +of complaining, they tell you how lovely it is! It made one realise the +grimness of our stage in it—the emergencies, the makeshifts, and the +little four can do for nearly 400 in a train—with their greatest +output. We each had 80 lying-down cases this journey.</p> + +<p>We got to bed about 11 and didn't wake till nearly 9, to the sound of +the No.— G.H. bugle, Come to the Cook-house door, boys.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, November 19th.</i>—Spent the day in a wilderness of railway +lines at Sotteville—sharp frost; walk up and down the lines all +morning; horizon bounded by fog. This afternoon raw, wet, snowing, slush +outside. If it is so deadly cold on this unheated train, what do they do +in the trenches with practically the same equipment they came out with +in August? Can't last like that. Makes you feel a pig to have a big +coat, and hot meals, and dry feet. I've made a fine foot muff with a +brown blanket; it is twelve thicknesses sewn together; have still got +only summer underclothing. My winter things have been sent on from +Havre, but the parcel has not yet reached me; hope the foot muff will +ward off chilblains. Got a 'Daily Mail' of yesterday. We heard of the +smash-up of the Prussian Guard from the people who did it, and had some +of the P.G. on our train. Ypres is said to be full of German wounded who +will very likely come to us.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, November 20th</i>, 10 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, <i>Boulogne</i>.—Deep snow.</p> + + +<p><i>Boulogne, Saturday, November 21st.</i>—In the siding all yesterday and +to-day. Train to be cut down from 650 tons to 450, so we are +reconstructing and putting off waggons. It will reduce our number of +patients, but we shall be able to do more for a smaller number, and the +train will travel better and not waste time blocking up the stations and +being left in sidings in consequence. The cold this week has been +absolutely awful. The last train brought almost entirely cases of +rheumatism. Their only hope at the Front must be hot meals, and I expect +the A.S.C. sees that they get them somehow.</p> + +<p>A troop train of a very rough type of Glasgow men, reinforcing the +Highlanders, was alongside of us early yesterday morning; each truck had +a roaring fire of coke in a pail. They were in roaring spirits; it was +icy cold.</p> + +<p>My winter things arrived from Havre yesterday, so I am better equipped +against the cold. Also, this morning an engine gave us an hour or two's +chauffage just at getting-up time, which was a help.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, November 22nd.</i>—Left B. early this morning and got to Merville +about midday. Loaded up and got back to B. in the night. Many wounded +Germans and a good lot of our sick, knocked over by the cold. I don't +know how any of them stick it. Five bombs were dropped the day before +where we were to-day, and an old man was killed. Things are being badly +given away by spies, even of other nationalities. Some men were sleeping +in a cellar at Ypres to avoid the bombardment, with some refugees. In +the night they missed two of them. They were found on the roof +signalling to the Germans with flash-lights. In the morning they paid +the penalty.</p> + +<p>The frost has not broken, and it is still bitterly cold.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, November 24th.</i>—Was up all Sunday night; unloaded early at +Boulogne. Had a bath on a ship and went to bed. Stayed in siding all +day.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, November 25th.</i>—Left B. about 9.30.</p> + +<p>Last night at dinner our charming debonair French garçon was very drunk, +and spilt the soup all over me! There was a great scene in French. The +fat fatherly corporal (who has a face and expression exactly like the +Florentine people in Ghirlandaio's Nativities, and who has the manners +of a French aristocrat on his way to the guillotine) tried to control +him, but it ended in a sort of fight, and poor Charles got the sack in +the end, and has been sent back to Paris to join his regiment. He was +awfully good to us Sisters—used to make us coffee in the night, and +fill our hot bottles and give us hot bricks for our feet at meals.</p> + +<p>Just going on now to a place we've not been to before, called Chocques.</p> + +<p>The French have to-day given us an engine with the Red Cross on it and +an extra man to attend to the chauffage, so we have been quite warm and +lovely. We ply him at the stations with cigarettes and chocolate, and he +now falls over himself in his anxiety to please us.</p> + +<p>The officers of the two Divisions which are having a rest have got 100 +hours' leave in turns. We all now spend hours mapping out how much we +could get at home in 100 hours from Boulogne.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, November 25th.</i>—Arrived at 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> last night at a +God-forsaken little place about eight miles from the firing line. Found +a very depressed major taking a most gloomy view of life and the war, in +charge of Indians. Pitch-dark night, and they were a mile away from the +station, so we went to bed at 12 and loaded up at 7.30 this morning, all +Indians, mostly badly wounded. They are such pathetic babies, just as +inarticulate to us and crying as if it was a crêche. I've done a great +trade in Hindustani, picked up at a desperate pace from a Hindu officer +to-day! If you write it down you can soon learn it, and I've got all the +necessary medical jargon now; you read it off, and then spout it without +looking at your note-book. The awkward part is when they answer +something you haven't got!</p> + +<p>The Germans are using sort of steam-ploughs for cutting trenches.</p> + +<p>The frost has broken, thank goodness. The Hindu officer said the cold +was more than they bargained for, but they were "very, very glad to +fight for England." He thought the Germans were putting up a very good +show. There have been a great many particularly ghastly wounds from +hand-grenades in the trenches. We have made a very good journey down, +and expect to unload this evening, as we are just getting into Boulogne +at 6.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span></p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, November 26th.</i>—We did a record yesterday. Loaded up with +the Indians—full load—bad cases—quite a heavy day; back to B. and +unloaded by 9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, and off again at 11.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> No +waiting in the siding this time. Three hospital ships were waiting this +side to cross by daylight. They can't cross now by night because of +enemy torpedoes. So all the hospitals were full again, and trains were +taking their loads on to Rouen and Havre. We should have had to if they +hadn't been Indians.</p> + +<p>We loaded up to-day at Bailleul, where we have been before—headquarters +of 3rd and 4th Divisions. We had some time to wait there before loading +up, so went into the town and saw the Cathedral—beautiful old tower, +hideously restored inside, but very big and well kept. The town was very +interesting. Sentries up the streets every hundred yards or so; the +usual square packed with transport, and the usual jostle of Tommies and +staff officers and motor-cars and lorries. We saw General French go +through.</p> + +<p>The Surgeon-General had been there yesterday, and five Sisters are to be +sent up to each of the two clearing hospitals there. They should have +an exciting time. A bomb was dropped straight on to the hospital two +days ago—killed one wounded man, blew both hands off one orderly, and +wounded another. The airman was caught, and said he was very sorry he +dropped it on the hospital; he meant it for Headquarters. We have a lot +of cases of frost-bite on the train. One is as bad as in Scott's +Expedition; may have to have his foot amputated. I'd never seen it +before. They are nearly all slight medical cases; very few wounded, +which makes a very light load from the point of view of work, but we +shall have them on the train all night. One of us is doing all the train +half the night, and another all the train the other half. The other two +go to bed all night. I am one of these, as I have got a bit of a throat +and have been sent to bed early. We've never had a light enough load for +one to do the whole train before. The men say things are very quiet at +the Front just now. Is it the weather or the Russian advance?</p> + +<p>Great amusement to-day. Major P. got left behind at Hazebrouck, talking +to the R.T.O., but scored off us by catching us up at St Omer on an +engine which he collared.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, November 28th.</i>—Sunny and much milder. We came up in the +night last night to St Omer, and have not taken any sick on yet. There +seems to be only medical cases about just now, which is a blessed relief +to think of. They are inevitable in the winter, here or at home. The +Major has gone up to Poperinghe with one carriage to fetch six badly +wounded officers and four men who were left there the other day when the +French took the place over.</p> + +<p>I was just getting cigarettes for an up-going train of field-kitchens +and guns out of your parcel when it began to move. The men on each truck +stood ready, and caught the packets as eagerly as if they'd been +diamonds as I threw them in from my train. It was a great game; only two +went on the ground. The "Surprise," I suppose, is in the round tin. We +are keeping it for a lean day.</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We are just coming to Chocques for Indians again, not +far from Armentières, so I am looking up my Hindustani conversation +again.</p> + +<p>On Friday—the day between these two journeys—Sister N. and I got a +motor ambulance from the T.O. and whirled off to Wimereux in it. It is a +lovely place on the sea, about three miles off, now with every hotel, +casino, and school taken up by R.A.M.C. Base Hospitals. It was a lovely +blue morning, and I went right out to the last rock on the sands and +watched the breakers while Sister N. attended to some business. It was +glorious after the everlasting railway carriage atmosphere. Then we +found a very nice old church in the town. It is too wet to load up with +the Indians to-night, so we have the night in bed, and take them down +to-morrow.</p> + +<p>A sergeant of the 10th Hussars told me he was in a house with some +supposed Belgian refugees. He noticed that when a little bell near the +ceiling rang one of them always dashed upstairs. He put a man upstairs +to trace this bell and intercept the Belgian. It was connected with the +little trap-door of a pigeon-house. When a pigeon came in with a +message, this door rang the bell and they went up and got the message. +They didn't reckon on having British in the house. They were shot next +morning.</p> + +<p>It takes me a month to read a Sevenpenny out here.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday (Advent), November 29th.</i>—On the way down from Chocques. We +have got Indians, British, and eight Germans this time. One big, +handsome, dignified Mussulman wouldn't eat his biscuit because he was in +the same compartment as a Hindu, and the Hindu wouldn't eat his because +the Mussulman had handed it to him. The Babu I called in to interpret +was very angry with both, and called the M. a fool-man, and explained to +us that he was telling them that in England "Don't care Mussulman, don't +care Hindu"—only in Hindustan, and that if the Captain Sahib said +"Eat," it was "Hukm," and they'd got to. My sympathies were with the +beautiful, polite, sad-looking M., who wouldn't budge an inch, and only +salaamed when the Babu went for him.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, November 30th, Boulogne.</i>—Yesterday a wounded Tommy on the +train told me "the Jack Johnsons have all gone." To-day's French +communiqué says, "The enemy's heavy artillery is little in evidence." +There is a less strained feeling about everywhere—a most blessed lull.</p> + +<p>We were late getting our load off the train last night, and some were +very bad. One of my Sikhs with pneumonia did not live to reach Boulogne. +Another pneumonia was very miserable, and kept saying, "Hindustan gurrum +England tanda." They all think they are in England. The Gurkhas are +supposed by the orderlies to be Japanese. They are exactly like Japs, +only brown instead of yellow. The orderlies make great friends with them +all. One Hindu was singing "Bonnie Dundee" to them in a little gentle +voice, very much out of tune. Their great disadvantage is that they are +alive with "Jack Johnsons" (not the guns). They take off <i>all</i> their +underclothes and throw them out of the window, and we have to keep +supplying them with pyjamas and shirts. They sit and stand about naked, +scratching for dear life. It is fatal for the train, because all the +cushioned seats are now infected, and so are we. I love them dearly, but +it is a big price to pay.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, December 1st.</i>—We are to-day in a beautiful high embankment +at Wimereux, three miles from Boulogne, right on the sea, and have been +dry-docked there till 3 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> (when we have just started for?), +while endless trains of men and guns have gone up past us. H.M. King +George was in the restaurant car of one of them. We have been out all +the morning, down to the grey and rolling sea, and have been celebrating +December 1st by sitting on the embankment reading back numbers of 'The +Times,' and one of the C.S.'s and I have been painting enormous Red +Crosses on the train.</p> + +<p>'Punch' comes regularly now and is devoured by our Mess. We are very +like the apostles, and share everything from cakes and 'Spheres' to +remedies for "Jack Johnsons." Bread-and-butter doesn't happen, alas!</p> + +<p>6.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We've just caught up H.M. King George's train at St +Omer, but he is evidently out dining with Sir John French. We are just +alongside. He has red and blue curtains lining the bridges to keep his +royal khaki shoulders from getting smutty. His <i>chef</i> has a grey beard. +He is with Poincaré.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, December 2nd.</i>—We got to Chocques very late last night and +are loading up this morning, but only a few here; we shall stop at +Lillers and take more on. We went for our usual exploring walk through +seas of mud. There are more big motor-lorries here than I've seen +anywhere. We wandered past a place where Indians were busy killing and +skinning goats—a horrible sight—to one of these châteaux where the +staff officers have their headquarters: it was a lovely house in a very +clean park; there was a children's swing under the trees and we had some +fine swings.</p> + +<p><i>Later.</i>—Officers have been on the train on both places begging for +newspapers and books. We save up our 'Punches' and 'Daily Mails' and +'Times' for them, and give them any Sevenpennies we have to spare. They +say at least forty people read each book, and they finish up in the +trenches.</p> + +<p>H.M. King George was up here yesterday afternoon in a motor and gave +three V.C.'s.</p> + +<p>We have only taken on 83 at the two places. There is so little doing +anywhere—no guns have been heard for several days, and there is not +much sickness. An officer asked for some mufflers for his Field +Ambulance men, so I gave him the rest of the children's: the sailors on +the armoured train had the first half. He came back with some pears for +us. They are so awfully grateful for the things we give them that they +like to bring us something in exchange. Seven men off a passing truck +fell over each other getting writing-cases and chocolate to-day. They +almost eat the writing-cases with their joy.</p> + +<p>9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We filled up at St Omer from the three hospitals there. +A great many cases of frost-bite were put on. They crawl on hands and +knees, poor dears. Some left in hospital are very severe and have had to +be amputated below the knee. Some of the toes drop off. I have one +carriage of twenty-four Indians. A Sikh refused to sit in the same seat +with a stout little major of the Gurkhas. I showed him a picture of +Bobs, and he said at once, "Robert Sahib." They love the 'Daily Mirrors' +with pictures of Indians. The Sikhs are rather whiney patients and very +hard to please, but the little Gurkhas are absolute stoics, and the +Bengal Lancers, who are Mohammedans, are splendid.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, December 3rd.</i>—We kept our load on all night, as we got in +very late. I went to bed 10.20 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, and then took all the +train: unloaded directly after breakfast. Some men from Lancashire were +rather interesting on the war; they thought it would do Europe so much +good in the long-run. And the French might try and get their own back +when they get into Germany, but "the British is too tender-'earted to do +them things." They arranged that Belgium should have Berlin! They all +get very pitiful over the Belgian homes and desolation; it seems to +upset them much more than their own horrors in the trenches. A good deal +of the fighting they talk about as if it was an exciting sort of +football match, full of sells and tricks and chances. They roar with +laughter at some of their escapes.</p> + +<p>There was no hospital ship in, which spells a bath or no bath to me, but +I ramped round the town till I found a hotel which kindly supplied a +fine bath for 1.75. And I found another and nicer English church and a +Roman Catholic one.</p> + +<p>Grand mail when I came in—from home.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, December 4th.</i>—Had a busy day loading at three places: just +going to turn in as I have to be up at 2 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>; we shall have +the patients on all night. It is a fearful night, pouring and blowing. +We have taken a tall white-haired Padre up with us this time: he wanted +a trip to the Front. We happened to go to a place we hadn't been to +before, in a coal-mining district. While we loaded he marched off to +explore, and was very pleased at finding a well-shelled village and an +unexploded shell stuck in a tree. It specially seemed to please him to +find a church shelled! He has enjoyed talking to the crowds of men on +the train on the way down. He lives and messes with us. We opened the +Harrod's cake to-day; it is a beauty. The men were awfully pleased with +the bull's-eyes, said they hadn't tasted a sweet for four months.</p> + +<p>One of the C.S. has just dug me out to see some terrific flashes away +over the Channel, which he thinks is a naval battle. I think it is +lightning. It was. The gale is terrific: must be giving the ships a +doing.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, December 5th</i>, 7 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—We had a long stop on an +embankment in the night, and at last the Chef de Gare from the next +station came along the line and found both the French guards rolled up +asleep and the engine-driver therefore hung up. Then he ran out of coal, +and couldn't pull the train up the hill, so we had another four hours' +wait while another engine was sent for. Got into B. at 6 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>; +bitterly cold and wet, and no chauffage.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, December 6th.</i>—A brilliant frosty day—on way up to Bailleul. +We unloaded early at B. yesterday, and waited at a good place half-way +between B. and Calais, a high down not far from the sea, with a splendid +air. Some of the others went for a walk as we had no engine on, but I +had been up since 2 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, and have hatched another bad cold, +and so retired for a sleep till tea-time.</p> + +<p>Just got to Hazebrouck. Ten men and three women were killed and twenty +wounded here this morning by a bomb. They are very keen on getting a +good bag here, especially on the station, and for other reasons, as it +is an important junction.</p> + +<p>4 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We have been up to B. and there were no patients for +us, so we are to go back to the above bomb place to collect theirs. B. +was packed with pale, war-worn, dirty but cheerful French troops +entraining for their Front. They have been all through everything, and +say they want to go on and get it finished. They carry fearful loads, +including an extra pair of boots, a whole collection of frying-pans and +things, and blankets, picks, &c., all on their backs.</p> + +<p>The British officers on the station came and grabbed our yesterday's +'Daily Mails,' and asked for soap, so what you sent came in handy. They +went in to the town to buy grapes for us in return. This place is famous +for grapes—huge monster purple ones—but the train went out before they +came back. We had got some earlier, though.</p> + +<p>9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We are nearly back at Boulogne and haven't taken up any +sick or wounded anywhere. One of the trains has taken Indians from +Boulogne down to Marseilles—several days' journey.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, December 7th.</i>—Pouring wet day. Still standing by; nothing +doing anywhere. It is a blessed relief to know that, and the rest does +no one any harm. Had a grand mail to-day.</p> + +<p>There is a heart-breaking account of my beautiful Ypres on page 8 of +December 1st 'Times.' There was a cavalry officer looking round the +Cathedral with me that day the guns were banging. I often wonder where +the Belgian woman is who showed me the way and wanted my S.A. ribbons as +a souvenir. She showed me a huge old painting on the wall of the +Cathedral of Ypres in an earlier war.</p> + +<p>I all but got left in Boulogne to-day. We are dry-docked about five +miles out, not far from Ambleteuse.</p> + +<p>It was bad luck not seeing the King. We caught him up at St Omer, and +saw his train; and from there he motored in front of us to all our +places. Where we went, they said, "The King was here yesterday and gave +V.C.'s." We haven't seen the "d—d good boy" either.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, December 8th.</i>—Got up to Bailleul by 11 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, and +had a good walk on the line waiting to load up. Glorious morning. +Aeroplanes buzzing overhead like bees, and dropping coloured signals +about. Only filled up my half of the train, both wounded and sick, +including some very bad enterics. An officer in the trenches sent a man +on a horse to get some papers from us. Luckily I had a batch of 'The +Times,' 'Spectator,' and 'Punches.'</p> + +<p>We have come down very quickly, and hope to unload to-night, 9.30.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, December 9th.</i>—In siding at Boulogne all day. Pouring wet.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, December 10th.</i>—Left for Bailleul at 8 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> Heard +at St Omer of the sinking of the three German cruisers.</p> + +<p>Arrived at 2 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> Loaded up in the rain, wounded and sick—full +load. They were men wounded last night, very muddy and trenchy; said the +train was like heaven! It is lovely fun taking the sweets round; they +are such an unexpected treat. The sitting-ups make many jokes, and say +"they serve round 'arder sweets than this in the firing line—more +explosive like."</p> + +<p>One showed us a fearsome piece of shell which killed his chum next to +him last night. There is a good deal of dysentery about, and acute +rheumatism. The Clearing Hospitals are getting rather rushed again, and +the men say we shall have a lot coming down in the next few days. A +hundred men of one regiment got separated from their supports and came +up against some German machine-guns in a wood with tragic results. We +are shelling from Ypres, but there is no answering shelling going on +just now, though the Taubes are busy.</p> + +<p>We are wondering what the next railhead will be, and when. Some charming +H.A.C.'s are on the train this time, and a typically plucky lot of +Tommies. One of the best of their many best features is their unfailing +friendliness with each other. They never let you miss a man out with +sweets or anything if he happens to be asleep or absent.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, December 11th.</i>—They wouldn't unload us at 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> at +Boulogne last night, but sent us on to the Duchess of Westminster's +Hospital at a little place about twenty miles south of B., and we didn't +unload till this morning. It was my turn for a whole night in bed. Not +that this means we are having many nights up, but that when the load +doesn't require two Sisters at night, two go to bed and the other two +divide the night. After unloading we had a poke round the little fishing +village, and of course the church. A company of Canadian Red Cross +people unloaded us. The hospital has not been open very long. It was +all sand-dunes and fir-trees on the way, very attractive, and cement +factories.</p> + +<p>Mail in again.</p> + +<p>9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We came back to B. to fill up with stores after lunch, +and haven't been sent out again yet; but we often go to bed here, and +wake up and ask our soldier servants (batmen), who bring our jugs of hot +water it the morning, where we are. I like the motion of the train in +bed now, and you get used to the noise.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, December 12th.</i>—The French engine-drivers are so erratic +that if you're long enough on the line it's only a question of time when +you get your smash up. Ours came last night when they were joining us up +to go out again. They put an engine on to each end of one-half of the +train (not the one our car is in), and then did a tug-of-war. That +wasn't a success, so they did the concertina touch, and put three +coaches out of action, including the kitchen. So we're stuck here now +(Boulogne) till Heaven knows when. Fortunately no casualties.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, December 13th.</i>—We've been hung up since Friday night by the +three damaged trucks, and took the opportunity of getting some good +walks yesterday, and actually going to church at the English church this +morning.</p> + +<p>Sister B. has been ordered to join the hospital; she mobilised to-day, +and we had to pack her off this morning. The staffs of the trains (which +have all been shortened) have been put down from four to three. Very +glad I wasn't taken off.</p> + +<p>We saw a line of graves with wooden crosses, in a field against the +skyline, last journey.</p> + +<p>We have seen a lot of the skin coats that the men are getting now. +Sheepskin, with any sort of fur or skin sleeves, just the skins sewn +together; you may see a grey or white coat with brown or black fur or +astrakhan sleeves. Some wear the fur inside and some outside; they +simply love them.</p> + +<p>Reduced to pacing the platform in the dark and rain to get warm. It is +368 paces, so I've done it six times to well cover a mile, but it is not +an exciting walk! Funny thing, it seems in this war that for many +departments you are either thoroughly overworked or entirely hung up, +which is much worse. In things like the Pay Department or the +Post-Office or the Provisioning for the A.S.C. it seldom gets off the +overworked line, but in this and in the fighting line it varies very +much.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The number of victims of the Taube attack on Hazebrouck on Monday +is larger than was at first supposed. Five bombs were thrown and +nine British soldiers and five civilians were killed, while 25 +persons were injured."—'Times,' Dec. 9th.</p></div> + +<p>We were at H. on that day.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, December 14th.</i>—Got off at last at 3.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> Loaded +up 300 at Merville, a place we've only been to once before, near the +coalmines. Guns were banging only four miles off.</p> + +<p>Had a good many bad cases, medical and surgical, this time: kept one +busy to the journey's end. We are unloaded to-night, so they will soon +be well seen to, instead of going down to Rouen or Havre, which two +other trains just in have got to do.</p> + +<p>We have a good many Gordons on; one was hugging his bagpipes, and we had +him up after dinner to play, which he did beautifully with a wrapt +expression.</p> + +<p>We are going up again to-night. "Three trains wanted immediately"—been +expecting that.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, December 15th.</i>—We were unloaded last night at 9.30, and +reported ready to go up again at 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, but they didn't move +us till 5 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> Went to same place as yesterday, and cleared the +Clearing Hospitals again; some badly wounded, with wounds exposed and +splints padded with straw as in the Ypres days.</p> + +<p>The Black Watch have got some cherub-faced boys of seventeen out now. +The mud and floods are appalling. The Scotch regiments have lost their +shoes and spats and wade barefoot in the water-logged trenches. This is +a true fact.</p> + +<p>I'm afraid not a few of many regiments have got rheumatism—some +acute—that they will never lose.</p> + +<p>The ploughed fields and roads are all more or less under water, and each +day it rains more.</p> + +<p>We have got a Red Cross doctor on the train who was in the next village +to the one we loaded from this morning. It has been taken and retaken by +both sides, and had a population of about 2000. The only living things +he saw in it to-day besides a khaki supply column passing through were +one cat and some goldfish. In one villa a big brass bedstead was hanging +through the drawing-room ceiling by its legs, the clothes hanging in the +cupboards were slashed up, and nothing left anywhere. He says at least +ten well-to-do men of 50 are doing motor-ambulance work with their own +Rolls-Royces up there, and cleaning their cars themselves, at 6 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span></p> + +<p>I happened to ask a man, who is a stretcher-bearer belonging to the +Rifle Brigade, how he got hit. "Oh, I was carrying a dead man," he said +modestly. "My officer told me not to move him till dark, because of the +sniping; but his face was blown off by an explosive bullet, and I didn't +think it would do the chaps who had to stand round him all day any good, +so I put him on my back, and they copped me in the leg. I was glad he +wasn't a wounded man, because I had to drop him."</p> + +<p>He told me some French ladies were killed in their horse-and-cart on the +road near their trenches the other day; they would go and try and get +some of their household treasures. Two were killed—two and a man—and +the horse wounded. He helped to take them to the R.A.M.C. +dressing-station.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, December 16th.</i>—We are on our way up again to-day, and by a +different and much jollier way, to St Omer, going south of Boulogne and +across country, instead of up by Calais. We came back this way with +patients from Ypres once. It is longer, but the country is like +Hampshire Downs, instead of the everlasting flat swamps the other way. +Of course it is raining.</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—For once we waited long enough at St Omer to go out and +explore the beautiful ruined Abbey near the station. We went up the +town—very clean compared with the towns farther up—swarming with grey +touring-cars and staff officers. Headquarters of every arm labelled on +different houses, and a huge church the same date as the Abbey, with +some good carving and glass in it. We kept an eye open for Sir J.F. and +the P. of W., but didn't meet them. Saw the English military church +where Lord Roberts began his funeral service. For once it wasn't +raining.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, December 17th.</i>—Left St O. at 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> last night, +and woke up this morning at Bailleul. Saw two aeroplanes being fired +at,—black smoke-balls bursting in the air. Heard that Hartlepool and +Scarboro' have been shelled—just the bare fact—in last night's +'Globe.' R. will have an exciting time. We're longing to get back for +to-day's 'Daily Mail.'</p> + +<p>There has been a lot of fighting in our advance south-east of Ypres +since Sunday.</p> + +<p>The Gordons made a great bayonet charge, but lost heavily in officers +and men in half an hour; we have some on the train. The French also lost +heavily, and lie unburied in hundreds; but the men say the Germans were +still more badly "punished." They tell us that in the base hospitals +they never get a clean wound; even the emergency amputations and +trephinings and operations done in the Clearing Hospitals are septic, +and no one who knew the conditions would wonder at it. We shall all +forget what aseptic work is by the time we get home. The anti-tetanus +serum injection that every wounded man gets with his first dressing has +done a great deal to keep the tetanus under, and the spreading gangrene +is less fatal than it was. It is treated with incisions and injections +of H<sub>2</sub>O<sub>2</sub>, or, when necessary, amputation in case of limbs. You +suspect it by the grey colour of the face and by another sense, before +you look at the dressing.</p> + +<p>At B. a man at the station greeted me, and it was my old theatre orderly +at No. 7 Pretoria. We were very pleased to see each other. I fitted him +out with a pack of cards, post-cards, acid drops, and a nice grey pair +of socks.</p> + +<p>A wounded officer told us he was giving out the mail in his trench the +night before last, and nearly every man had either a letter or a parcel. +Just as he finished a shell came and killed his sergeant and corporal; +if they hadn't had their heads out of the trench at that moment for the +mail, neither of them would have been hit. The officer could hardly get +through the story for the tears in his eyes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (4)</h4> + +<h5>CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR ON THE TRAIN</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>December 18, 1914, to January 3, 1915</i></p> + +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Judge of the passionate hearts of men,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God of the wintry wind and snow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take back the blood-stained year again,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Give us the Christmas that we know."</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;" class="smcap" >—F.G. Scott,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>Chaplain with the Canadians</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VI.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (4).</h4> + +<h5>CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR ON THE TRAIN.</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>December 18, 1914, to January 3, 1915.</i></p> + +<p>The Army and the King—Mufflers—Christmas Eve—Christmas on the +train—Princess Mary's present—The trenches in winter—"A typical +example"—New Year's Eve at Rouen—The young officers.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, December 18th</i>, 10.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—We've had an all-night +journey to Rouen, and have almost got there. One of my sitting-ups was +106° this morning, but it was only malaria, first typical one I have met +since S.A. A man who saw the King when he was here said, "They wouldn't +let him come near the trenches; if a shell had come and hit him I think +the Army would 'a gone mad; there'd be no keeping 'em in the trenches +after that."</p> + +<p>This place before Rouen is Darnetal, a beautiful spiry town in a valley, +pronounced by the Staff of No.— A.T. "Darn it all."</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We +unloaded by 12, and had just had time to go out and get a bath at the best +baths in France.</p> + +<p>Shipped a big cargo of J.J. this journey, but luckily made no personal +captures.</p> + +<p>Got to sleep this afternoon, as I was on duty all yesterday and up to 2 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> this morning.</p> + +<p>Pouring cats and dogs as usual.</p> + +<p>No time to see the Cathedrals.</p> + +<p>We had this time a good many old seasoned experienced men of the Regular +Army, who had been through all the four months (came out in August). +They are very strong on the point of mixing Territorials (and K.'s Army +where it is not composed of old service men) and Indians well in with +men like themselves.</p> + +<p>One Company of R.E. lost all its officers in one day in a charge. A +H.L.I. man gave a chuckling account of how they got to fighting the +Prussian Guard with their fists at Wypers because they were at too close +quarters to get in with their bayonets. They really enjoyed it, and the +Germans didn't.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, 19th.</i>—We are dry-docked to-day at Sotteville, outside +Rouen. Z. and I half walked and half trammed into Rouen this morning.</p> + +<p>It is lovely to get out of the train. This afternoon No.— played a +football match against the Khaki train and got well beaten. They've only +been in the country six weeks, and only do about one journey every eight +days, so they are in better training than ours, but it will do them a +lot of good: we looked on.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, 20th</i>, 6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—At last we are on our way back to +Boulogne and mails, and the News of the War at Home and Abroad. At +Rouen, or rather the desert four miles outside it, we only see the paper +of the day before, and we miss our mails, and have no work since +unloading on Friday. This morning was almost a summer day, warm, still, +clear and sunny. We went for a walk, and then got on with painting the +red crosses on the train, which can only be done on fine days, of which +we've had few. The men were paraded, and then sent route-marching, which +they much enjoyed. It was possible, as word was sent that the train was +not going out till 1.30. It did, however, move at 12, which shows how +little you can depend on it, even when a time is given. They had a +mouth-organ and sang all the way.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, December 21st.</i>—Got to Boulogne early this morning after an +exceptionally rackety journey, all one's goods and chattels dropping on +one's head at intervals during the night. Engine-driver rather <i>ivré</i>, +I should think. Off again at 10.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span></p> + +<p>Mail in.</p> + +<p>Weather appallingly cold and no chauffage.</p> + +<p>On way up to Chocques, where we shall take up Indians again. How utterly +miserable Indians must be in this eternal wet and cold. The fields and +land generally are all half under water again. We missed the last two +days' papers, and so have heard nothing of the war at home, except that +the casualties are over 60,000. Five mufflers went this afternoon to +five men on a little isolated station on the way here. When I said to +the first boy, "Have you got a muffler?" he thought I wanted one for +some one on the train.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's not a real muffler; it's my sleeping-cap," he said, +beginning to pull it off his neck; "but you're welcome to it if it's any +use!"</p> + +<p>What do you think of that? He got pink with pleasure over a real muffler +and some cigarettes. You start with two men; when you come back in a +minute with the mufflers the two have increased to five silent expectant +faces.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, 23rd.</i>—We loaded up at Lillers late on Monday night with +one of the worst loads we've ever taken, all wounded, half Indians and +half British.</p> + +<p>You will see by Tuesday's French communiqués that some of our trenches +had been lost, and these had been retaken by the H.L.I., Manchesters, +and 7th D.G.'s.</p> + +<p>It was a dark wet night, and the loading people were half-way up to +their knees in black mud, and we didn't finish loading till 2 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, and were hard at it trying to stop hæmorrhage, &c., till +we got them off the train at 11 yesterday morning; the J.J.'s were +swarming, but a large khaki pinny tying over my collar, and with elastic +wristbands, saved me this time. One little Gurkha with his arm just +amputated, and a wounded leg, could only be pacified by having acid +drops put into his mouth and being allowed to hug the tin.</p> + +<p>Another was sent on as a sitting-up case. Half-way through the night I +found him gasping with double pneumonia; it was no joke nursing him with +seven others in the compartment. He only just lived to go off the train.</p> + +<p>Another one I found dead about 5.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> We were to have been +sent on to Rouen, but the O.C. Train reported too many serious cases, +and so they were taken off at B. It was a particularly bad engine-driver +too.</p> + +<p>I got some bath water from a friendly engine, and went to bed at 12 next +day.</p> + +<p>We were off again the same evening, and got to B. this morning, train +full, but not such bad cases, and are on our way back again now: expect +to be sent on to Rouen. Now we are three instead of four Sisters, it +makes the night work heavier, but we can manage all right in the day. In +the last journey some of the worst cases got put into the top bunks, in +the darkness and rush, and one only had candles to do the dressings by. +One of the C.S.'s was on leave, but has come back now. All the trains +just then had bad loads: the Clearing Hospitals were overflowing.</p> + +<p>The Xmas Cards have come, and I'm going to risk keeping them till +Friday, in case we have patients on the train. If not, I shall take them +to a Sister I know at one of the B. hospitals.</p> + +<p>We have got some H.A.C. on this time, who try to stand up when you come +in, as if you were coming into their drawing-room. The Tommies in the +same carriage are quite embarrassed. One boy said just now, "We 'ad a +'appy Xmas last year."</p> + +<p>"Where?" I said.</p> + +<p>"At 'ome, 'long o' Mother," he said, beaming.</p> + + +<p><i>Xmas Eve, 1914.</i>—And no fire and no chauffage, and cotton frocks; +funny life, isn't it? And the men are crouching in a foot of water in +the trenches and thinking of "'ome, 'long o' Mother,"—British, Germans, +French, and Russians. We are just up at Chocques going to load up with +Indians again. Had more journeys this week than for a long time; you +just get time to get what sleep the engine-driver and the cold will +allow you on the way up.</p> + +<p>8 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Just nearing Boulogne with another bad load, half +Indian, half British; had it in daylight for the most part, thank +goodness! Railhead to-day was one station further back than last time, +as the —— Headquarters had to be evacuated after the Germans got +through on Sunday. The two regiments, Coldstream Guards and Camerons, +who drove them back, lost heavily and tell a tragic story. There are two +men (only one is a boy) on the train who got wounded on Monday night +(both compound fracture of the thigh) and were only taken out of the +trench this morning, Thursday, to a Dressing Station and then straight +on to our train. (We heard the guns this morning.) Why they are alive I +don't know, but I'm afraid they won't live long: they are sunken and +grey-faced and just strong enough to say, "Anyway, I'm out of the trench +now." They had drinks of water now and then in the field but no +dressings, and lay in the slush. Stretcher-bearers are shot down +immediately, with or without the wounded, by the German snipers.</p> + +<p>And this is Christmas, and the world is supposed to be civilised. They +came in from the trenches to-day with blue faces and chattering teeth, +and it was all one could do to get them warm and fed. By this evening +they were most of them revived enough to enjoy Xmas cards; there were +such a nice lot that they were able to choose them to send to Mother and +My Young Lady and the Missis and the Children, and have one for +themselves.</p> + +<p>The Indians each had one, and salaamed and said, "God save you," and "I +will pray to God for you," and "God win your enemies," and "God kill +many Germans," and "The Indian men too cold, kill more Germans if not +too cold." One with a S.A. ribbon spotted mine and said, "Africa same +like you."</p> + +<p><i>Midnight.</i>—Just unloaded, going to turn in; we are to go off again at +5 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> to-morrow, so there'll be no going to church. Mail in, +but not parcels; there's a big block of parcels down at the base, and we +may get them by Easter.</p> + +<p>With superhuman self-control I have not opened my mail to-night so as to +have it to-morrow morning.</p> + + +<p><i>Xmas Day</i>, 11 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—On way up again to Béthune, where we have +not been before (about ten miles beyond where we were yesterday), a +place I've always hoped to see. Sharp white frost, fog becoming denser +as we get nearer Belgium. A howling mob of reinforcements stormed the +train for smokes. We threw out every cigarette, pipe, pair of socks, +mits, hankies, pencils we had left; it was like feeding chickens, but of +course we hadn't nearly enough.</p> + +<p>Every one on the train has had a card from the King and Queen in a +special envelope with the Royal Arms in red on it. And this is the +message (in writing hand)—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>With our best wishes for +Christmas, 1914.</i></p> + +<p><i>May God protect you and +bring you home safe.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mary R. George R.I.</span>"</p></div> + +<p>That is something to keep, isn't it?</p> + +<p>An officer has just told us that those men haven't had a cigarette since +they left S'hampton, hard luck. I wish we'd had enough for them. It is +the smokes and the rum ration that has helped the British Army to stick +it more than anything, after the conviction that they've each one got +that the Germans have got to be "done in" in the end. A Sergt. of the +C.G. told me a cheering thing yesterday. He said he had a draft of young +soldiers of only four months' service in this week's business. "Talk of +old soldiers," he said, "you'd have thought these had had years of it. +When they were ordered to advance there was no stopping them."</p> + +<p>After all we are not going to Béthune but to Merville again.</p> + +<p>This is a very slow journey up, with long indefinite stops; we all got +bad headaches by lunch time from the intense cold and a short night +following a heavy day. At lunch we had hot bricks for our feet, and hot +food inside, which improved matters, and I think by the time we get the +patients on there will be chauffage.</p> + +<p>The orderlies are to have their Xmas dinner to-morrow, but I believe +ours is to be to-night, if the patients are settled up in time.</p> + +<p>Do not think from these details that we are at all miserable; we say +"For King and Country" at intervals, and have many jokes over it all, +and there is the never-failing game of going over what we'll all do and +avoid doing After the War.</p> + +<p>7 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Loaded up at Merville and now on the way back; not many +badly wounded but a great many minor medicals, crocked up, nothing much +to be done for them. We may have to fill up at Hazebrouck, which will +interrupt the very festive Xmas dinner the French Staff are getting +ready for us. It takes a man, French or British, to take decorating +really seriously. The orderlies have done wonders with theirs. +Aeroplanes done in cotton-wool on brown blankets is one feature.</p> + +<p>This lot of patients had Xmas dinner in their Clearing Hospitals to-day, +and the King's Xmas card, and they will get Princess Mary's present. +Here they finished up D.'s Xmas cards and had oranges and bananas, and +hot chicken broth directly they got in.</p> + +<p><i>12 Midnight.</i>—Still on the road. We had a very festive Xmas dinner, +going to the wards which were in charge of nursing orderlies between the +courses. Soup, turkey, peas, mince pie, plum pudding, chocolate, +champagne, absinthe, and coffee. Absinthe is delicious, like squills. We +had many toasts in French and English. The King, the President, Absent +Friends, Soldiers and Sailors, and I had the <i>Blessés</i> and the +<i>Malades</i>. We got up and clinked glasses with the French Staff at every +toast, and finally the little chef came in and sang to us in a very +sweet musical tenor. Our great anxiety is to get as many orderlies and +N.C.O.'s as possible through the day without being run in for drunk, but +it is an uphill job; I don't know where they get it.</p> + +<p>We are wondering what the chances are of getting to bed to-night.</p> + +<p>4 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Very late getting in to B.; not unloading till morning. +Just going to turn in now till breakfast time. End of Xmas Day.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, December 26th.</i>—Saw my lambs off the train before +breakfast. One man in the Warwicks had twelve years' service, a wife and +two children, but "when Kitchener wanted more men" he re-joined. This +week he got an explosive bullet through his arm, smashing it up to rags +above the elbow. He told me he got a man "to tie the torn muscles up," +and then started to crawl out, dragging his arm behind him. After some +hours he came upon one of his own officers wounded, who said, "Good God, +sonny, you'll be bleeding to death if we don't get you out of this; +catch hold of me and the Chaplain." "So 'e cuddled me, and I cuddled the +Chaplain, and we got as far as the doctor."</p> + +<p>At the Clearing H. his arm was taken off through the shoulder-joint, but +I'm afraid it is too late. He is now a pallid wreck, dying of gangrene. +But he would discuss the War, and when it would end, and ask when he'd +be strong enough to sit up and write to that officer, and apologised for +wanting drinks so often. He is one of the most top-class gallant +gentlemen it's ever been my jolly good luck to meet. And there are +hundreds of them.</p> + +<p>We had Princess Mary's nice brass box this morning. The V.A.D. here +brought a present to every man on the train this morning, and to the +orderlies. They had 25,000 to distribute, cigarette-cases, +writing-cases, books, pouches, &c. The men were frightfully pleased, it +was so unexpected. The processions of hobbling, doubled-up, silent, +muddy, sitting-up cases who pour out of the trains want something to +cheer them up, as well as the lying-downs. It is hard to believe they +are the fighting men, now they've handed their rifles and bandoliers in. +(It is snowing fast.) We have to go and drink the men's health at their +spread at 1 o'clock. Then I hope a spell of sleep.</p> + +<p>We have chauffage on to-day to thaw the froidage; the pipes are frozen.</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We all processed to the Orderlies' Mess truck and the +O.C. made a speech, and the Q.M.S. dished out drinks for us to toast +with, and we had the King and all of ourselves with great enthusiasm. Mr +T. had to propose "The Sisters," and after a few trembling, solemn words +about "we all know the good work they do," he suddenly giggled +hopelessly, and it ended in a healthy splodge all round. Orders just +come to be at St Omer by 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> If that means loading-up +further on about 1 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> I think we shall all die! Too noisy +here to sleep this afternoon. And the men are just now so merry with +Tipperary, and dressing up, that they will surely drop the patients off +the stretchers, but we'll hope for the best.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, December 27th.</i>—Had a grand night last night. Woke up at +Béthune. Went out after breakfast and saw over No.— Cl. H., which has +only been there 48 hours, in a huge Girls' College, partly smashed by +big shell holes, an awful mess, but the whole parts are being turned +into a splendid hospital. Several houses shelled, and big guns shaking +the train this morning.</p> + +<p>The M.O.'s went to the Orderlies' Concert last night, when we went to +bed. It was excellent, and nobody was drunk! We are taking on a full +load of lying-downs straight from three Field Ambulances, so we shall be +very busy; not arrived yet.</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Nearing Boulogne.</p> + +<p>I have one little badly wounded Gurkha (who keeps ejaculating +"Gerrman"), and all the rest British, some very badly frost-bitten. The +trenches are in a frightful state. One man said, "There's almost as many +men drowned as killed: when they're wounded they fall into the water." +Of three officers (one of whom is on the train and tells the story) in a +deep-water trench for two days, one was drowned, the other had to have +his clothes cut off him (stuck fast to the mud) and be pulled out naked, +and the other is invalided with rheumatism.</p> + +<p>Two men were telling me how they caught a sniper established in a tree, +with a thousand rounds of ammunition and provisions. He asked for mercy, +but he didn't get it, they said. He had just shot two stretcher-bearers.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, December 28th.</i>—This trip to Rouen will give us a longer +journey up, and therefore some more time. And we shall get another bath.</p> + +<p>The following story is a typical example of what the infantry often have +to endure. It was told to me by the Sergeant. Three men of the S.W. +Borderers and five of the Welsh Regt. on advancing to occupy a trench +found themselves cut off, with a 2nd Lieut. He advanced alone to +reconnoitre and was probably shot, they said—they never saw him again. +So the Sergt. of the W.R. (aged 22!) took command and led them for +safety, still under fire, to a ditch with one foot of water in it. This +was on the <i>Monday night before Xmas</i>. They stayed in it all Tuesday and +Tuesday night, when it was snowing. Before daylight he "skirmished" them +to a trench he knew of two hundred yards in advance, where he had seen +one of his regiment the day before. This was in water above their knees. +He showed me the mud-line on his trousers.</p> + +<p>This turned out to be one of the German communication trenches. They +stayed in that all Wednesday, Wednesday night, and Thursday, living on +some biscuit one man had, some bits of chocolate, and drinking the dirty +trench water, in which was a dead German dressed as a Gurkha. "We was +prayin' all the time," said one of them. Then one ventured out to get +water and was shot. On Xmas Eve night it froze hard, and they were so +weak and starved and numb that the Sergt. decided that they couldn't +stick it any longer, so they cast their equipment and made a dash for a +camp fire they could see.</p> + +<p>One of them is an old grey-haired Reservist with seven children. By good +luck they struck a road which led them to some Coldstreams' billet, a +house. There they were fed with tea, bread, bacon, and jam, and stayed +an hour, but didn't get dried.</p> + +<p>Then these C.G.'s had to go into action, and the Sergt. took them on to +some Grenadier Guards' billet. By this time he and one other had to be +carried by the others. There they stayed the night (Xmas Day) and saw +the M.O.'s of a Field Ambulance, who sent them all into hospital at +Béthune, whence we took them on this train to Rouen, all severely +frost-bitten, weak, and rheumatic.</p> + +<p>An infant boy of nineteen was telling me how he killed a German of 6 ft. +3 in. "Bill," I says, "there's one o' them big devils (only I called +him worse than that," he said politely to me), "and we all three +emptied our rifles into him, and he never moved again."</p> + +<p>9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—At Sotteville, off Rouen. We got unloaded at 1 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span> and then made a dash for the best baths in France.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, December 29th.</i>—We've had a quite useful day off to-day. +Still at Sotteville; had a walk this morning, also got through arrears +of mending and letter-writing. They played another football match this +afternoon, and did much better than last time, but still got beaten.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, December 30th.</i>—Still at Sotteville. One of our coaches is +off being repaired here, and goodness knows how long we shall be stuck.</p> + +<p>Had a walk this morning along the line. The train puffed past me on its +way to Rouen for water. I tried to make the engine-driver stop by +spreading myself out in front of the engine, but he "shooed" me out of +the way, and after some deliberation I seized a brass rail and leapt on +to the footboard about half-way down the train; it wasn't at all +difficult after all. We had Seymour Hicks' lot tacked on behind us; they +are doing performances for the Hospitals and Rest-camps in Rouen to-day, +but unfortunately we are too far out to go in.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, December 31st, New Year's Eve.</i>—Still at Sotteville, and +clemmed with cold. There was no paraffin on the train this morning, so +we couldn't even have the passage lamps lit.</p> + +<p>This afternoon I went with Major —— and the French Major and the little +fat French Caporal (who is the same class as the French Major—or +better) into Rouen, and they trotted us round sight-seeing. The little +Caporal showed us all the points of the cathedrals, and the +twelfth-century stone pictures on the north porch and on the towers, and +also the church of St Maclou with the wonderful "Ossuare" cloisters, now +a college for Jeunes Filles. We had tea in the town and trammed back. +This evening, New Year's Eve, the French Staff had decorated the +Restaurant with Chinese lanterns, and we had a festive New Year's Eve +dinner, with chicken, and Xmas pudding on fire, and Sauterne and +Champagne and crackers. The putting on of caps amused every one +<i>infiniment</i>, and we had more speeches and toasts. I forgot to tell you +that the French Major's home is broken up by Les Allemands, and he +doesn't know where his wife and three children are. On Xmas night, +during toasts, he suddenly got up and said in a broken voice, "À mes +petits enfants et ma femme."</p> + +<p>The coach is mended and back from <i>l'atelier</i>, and we may go off at any +moment. I hope we shall wake up on the way to Boulogne and mails.</p> + + +<p><i>New Year's Day, 1915, Rouen.</i>—A Happy New Year to us all! We are not +off yet, and several other trains are doing nothing here. We came into +Rouen this afternoon, and heard that we are to clear the hospitals here +to-morrow, and take them down to Havre.</p> + +<p>Thank goodness we are to move at last. Went for a walk in the town after +tea, and after dinner the O.C. and Sister B. and one of the Civil +Surgeons and the French Major and I went to the cinema. It was +excellent, or we thought it so, after the months of train and nothing +else.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, January 2nd, 12 noon.</i>—Just loading up for Havre with many +of the same men we brought down from Béthune on Sunday; it seems as if +we might just as well have taken them straight down to Havre. They look +clean now, and have lost the trench look.</p> + +<p>Have been asked to say how extra-excellent the Xmas cake was; we +finished it yesterday, ditto the Tiptree jam.</p> + +<p>It is a week on Monday since we had any mails.</p> + +<p>There is a Major of ours on the train, getting a lift to Havre, who is +specialist in pathology, and he has been investigating the bacillus of +malignant œdema and of spreading gangrene. They are hunting anærobes +(Sir Almroth Wright at Boulogne and a big French Professor in Paris) for +a vaccine against this, which has been persistently fatal. This man knew +of two cases who were, as he puts it, "good cases for dying," and +therefore good cases for trying his theory on. Both got well, began to +recover within eight hours. And one of them was my re-enlisted +Warwickshire man with the arm amputated, who was got out by the wounded +officer and the Padre.</p> + + +<p><i>January 3rd.</i>—A sergeant we took down to Havre yesterday told me of +his battalion's very heavy losses. He said out of the 1400 of all ranks +he came out with, there are now only 5 sergeants, 1 officer, and 72 men +left. He said the young officers won't take cover—"they get too excited +and won't listen to people who've 'ad a little experience." One would +keep putting his head out of the trench because he hadn't seen a German. +"I kept tellin' of him," said the sergeant, "but of course he got 'it!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (5)</h4> + +<h5>WINTER ON THE TRAIN AND IN THE TRENCHES</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>January 7, 1915, to February 6, 1915</i></p> + +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"The winter and the dark last long:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Grief grows and dawn delays:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Make we our sword-arm doubly strong,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And lift on high our gaze;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And stanch we deep the hearts that weep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And touch our lips with praise."</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">—<i>Anon</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VII.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (5).</h4> + +<h5>WINTER ON THE TRAIN AND IN THE TRENCHES.</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>January 7, 1915, to February 6, 1915.</i></p> + +<p>The Petit Vitesse siding—Uncomplainingness of Tommy—Painting the +train—A painful convoy—The "Yewlan's" watch—"Officer dressed in +bandages"—Sotteville—Versailles—The Palais Trianon—A walk at +Rouen—The German view, and the English view—'Punch'—"When you return +Conqueror"—K.'s new Army.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, January 7th.</i>—We moved out of Boulogne about 4 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, and reached Merville (with many long waits) at 2 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span> Loaded up there, and filled up at Hazebrouck on way back. +Many cases of influenza with high temperatures, also rheumatisms and bad +feet, very few wounded. When they got the khaki hankies they said, +"Khaki? that's extra!"</p> + +<p>9.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We have 318 on board this time, including four +enterics, four diphtherias, and eighteen convalescent scarlets (who +caught it from their billet). A quiet-looking little man has a very fine +new German officer's helmet and sword. "He gave it to me," he said. "I +had shot him through the lung. I did the wound up as best I could and +tried to save him, but he died. He was coming for me with his sword." +Seems funny to first shoot a man and then try to mop it up. The Germans +don't; they finish you off.</p> + +<p>An officer on the train told me how another officer and twenty-five men +were told off to go and take a new trench which had been dug in the +night. Instead of the few they expected they found it packed with +Germans, all asleep. "It's not a pretty story," he said, "but you can't +go first and tell them you're coming when you are outnumbered three to +one." They had to bayonet every one of those sleeping Germans, and +killed every one without losing a man.</p> + +<p>All my half of the train had khaki hankies and sweets; they simply loved +them. They are all, except the infectious cases, just out of the +trenches, and such things make them absurdly happy; you would hardly +believe it. I am keeping the writing-cases and bull's-eyes for the next +lot. There were just enough mufflers to muffle the chilly necks of those +who hadn't already got them.</p> + +<p>The wet has outwetted itself all day—it must be a record flood +everywhere. We shall not unload to-night, so I had better think about +turning in, as I have the third watch at 4 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span></p> + +<p>I found some lovely eau-de-Cologne and shampoo powders from R. among the +mufflers, and a pet aluminium candlestick from G. Such things give a +Sister on an A.T. absurd pleasure; you'd hardly believe it.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, January 8th.</i>—Still pouring. We unloaded by 9 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, +got our mail in. My wardmaster was so drunk to-night that the Q.M.S. had +to send for the O.C. And he had just got his corporal's stripe. He was a +particular ally of mine and was in South Africa.</p> + +<p>We are in that foulest of all homes for lost trains to-day, the Petit +Vitesse siding out of B. station, with the filth of all the ages around, +about, and below us. You have to shut your window to keep out the smell +of burning garbage and other horrors.</p> + +<p>It is nearly three months since I sat in a chair, except at meals, and +that is only a flap-down seat, or saw a fire, except the pails of coke +the Tommies have on the lines.</p> + +<p>I expect we shall be off again to-night somewhere.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, January 9th.</i>—Did you see the H.A.C.'s story of the frozen +Tommy who asked them to warm his hands, and then seeing they were on +their way to his trench hastily explained that he was all right—only a +bit numb. One thing one notices about them is that they have an enormous +tolerance for each other and never seem to want to quarrel. They take +infinite pains in the night not to wake each other in moving over the +heaps of legs and arms sprawled everywhere, and will keep in cramped +positions for hours rather than risk touching some one else's painful +feet or hand. If you want to improve matters they say, "I shall be all +right, Sister, it might jog his foot." They never let you miss any one +out in giving things round, and always call your attention to any one +they think needs it, but not to themselves. It is very funny how they +won't fuss about themselves, and in consequence you often find things +out too late. Last journey a man with asthma and bronchitis was, +unfortunately as it turned out, given a top bunk, as he was considered +too bad to be a sitting-up case. At 6 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> I found him looking +very tired and miserable sitting on the edge; "I can't lie down," he +said, "with this cough." When I put him in a sitting-up corner below, he +said, "I could a'slep' all night like this!" It had never occurred to +him to ask to be changed. They get so used to discomfort that they +"stay put" and never utter. We had missed his distress (in the 318 we +had on board), and they were sleeping on the floors of the corridors, so +the middle bunks were very difficult to get at. Any of them would have +changed with him. This happens several times on every journey, but you +can't get them to fuss. The Germans and the Sikhs begin to clamour for +something directly they are on the train, and keep it up till they go +off.</p> + +<p>Another typical instance (though not a pretty one) of Tommy's reluctance +to complain occurred on the last journey. I came on one compartment +full, busily engaged in collecting J.J.'s off one man in the middle, +with a candle to see by. His blanket, I found, was swarming, and it was +ours, not his, one of a lot taken on at Rouen as "disinfected"! (For one +ghastly moment I thought it might be the compartment where I'd spent a +good half-hour doing up their feet, but it wasn't.) I had the blanket +hurled out of the window, and they then slept. But they weren't going to +complain about it.</p> + +<p>There was one jovial old boy of 60 with rows of ribbons. He had three +sons in the Army, and when they went "he wasn't going to be left +behind," so he re-enlisted.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, January 10th.</i>—Woke up at Bailleul, sun shining for once, and +everything—floods and all—looking lovely all the way down. Loaded up +early and got down to B. by 4 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> to hear that we are to go on +to Rouen—another all-night touch. We have put off the fourteen worst +cases at B., and are now on our way to R. This is the first time we have +shipped Canadians, P.P.C.L.I., the only regiment as yet in the fighting +line. They are oldish men who have nearly all seen service before, many +in South Africa.</p> + +<p>Lots more wounded this time. Some S.L.I. got badly caught in a wood; +they've just come from India.</p> + +<p>When I took the Devonshire toffee round, a little doubtful whether the +H.A.C.'s would not be too grand for it, one of them started up, "Oh, by +George, not really!"</p> + +<p>We have a boy on board with no wound and no disease, but quite mad, poor +boy; he has to have a special orderly on him.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday morning, January 11th, Rouen.</i>—The approach to Rouen at six +o'clock on a pitch-dark, wet, and starlight morning, with the lights +twinkling on the hills and on the river, and in the old wet streets, is +a beautiful sight.</p> + +<p>My mad boy has been very quiet all night.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, January 12th.</i>—At S. all day. By some mistake it hasn't +rained all day, so we took the opportunity to get on with painting the +train. We worked all the morning and afternoon and got a lot done, and +it looks very smart: huge red crosses on white squares in the middle of +each coach, and the number of the ward in figures a foot long at each +end: this on both sides of the coaches. We have done not quite half the +coaches, and are praying that it won't rain before it dries; if it does, +the result is pitiable. The orderlies have been shining up the brass +rails and paraffining the outside of the train, and have also played and +won a football match against No. 1 A.T.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, January 13th.</i>—Woke at Abbeville; now on the way to +Boulogne, where I hope we shall have time to get mails.</p> + +<p>5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We went through Boulogne without stopping, and got no +mails in consequence; nor could we pick up P., who has been on +ninety-six hours' leave. We have been on the move practically without +stopping since 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> last night, and are just getting to +Béthune, the place we went to two days after Christmas, where we were +quite near the guns, and went over the Cl. H. which had been shelled. +Expect to take wounded up here. The country is wetter than ever—it +looks one vast swamp. Of course the rain has spoilt our lovely paint!</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, January 14th.</i>—We picked up a load in the dark and wet, with +some very badly wounded, who kept us busy from 6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> to 4 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> without stopping. Some were caked with mud exactly to +their necks! One told me he got hit trying to dig out three of his +section who were half buried by an exploded coal-box. When he got hit, +they were left, and eventually got finished by our own guns. Another lot +of eleven were buried likewise, and are there still, but were all killed +instantaneously. One man with part of his stomach blown away and his +right thigh smashed was trying to get a corporal of his regiment in, but +the corporal died when he got there, and he got it as well. He was +smiling and thanking all night, and saying how comfortable he was. +Another we had to put off at St Omer, on the off chance of saving his +life. He was made happy by two tangerine oranges.</p> + +<p>Many of the sitting-ups have no voice, and they cough all night. We +unloaded this morning, got a sleep this afternoon, and are now, 5 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, on our way up again. The Clearing Hospitals are +overflowing as of old, and like the Field Ambulances have more than they +can cope with. We have to re-dress the septic things with H<sub>2</sub>O<sub>2</sub>, +which keeps them going till they can be specially treated at the base. +Some of the enterics are very bad: train journeys are not ideal +treatment for enteric hæmorrhage, but it has to be done. Two of my +orderlies are very good with them, and take great care of their mouths, +and know how to feed them. It is a great anxiety when a great hulking +G.D.O. (General Duty Orderly, not a Nursing Orderly) has to take his +turn on night duty with the badly wounded.</p> + +<p>It is time the sun shone somewhere—but it will surely, later on.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, January 15th.</i>—We got to Bailleul too late last night for +loading, and went thankfully to bed instead. Now, 3.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, +nearly back at B., but expect to be sent on to Rouen: most sick this +time, and bad feet, not exactly frost-bite, but swollen and discoloured +from the wet. One of my enterics is a Field Ambulance boy, with a temp. +of 105, and he only "went sick" yesterday. How awful he must have felt +on duty. He says his body feels "four sizes too big for him."</p> + +<p>It is a mild day, sunny in parts, and not wet.</p> + + +<p><i>Still Friday, January 15th.</i>—We unloaded at 6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> at B., +and are to start off again at 4.15 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>; business is brisk just +now; this last lot only had mostly minor ailments, besides the enterics +and the woundeds.</p> + +<p>The French Major has had a letter from his wife at last, they are with +the Germans, but quite well. We drank their health to-night in special +port and champagne! and had Christmas pudding with sauce d'Enfer, as the +lighted brandy was called! But we are all going to bed, not <i>ivrés</i> I'm +glad to tell you. This going up by night and down by day is much the +least tiring way, as we can undress and have a real night in bed.</p> + +<p><i>Later.</i>—Hazebrouck. We have been out, but couldn't get as far as +No.— Cl. H. (where I find T. is), as the R.T.O. said we might be +going on at 11.30.</p> + +<p>We came across an anti-aircraft gun pointing to the sky, on a little +hill. The gunner officer in charge of it seemed very pleased to see us, +as he is alone all day. (He walks up and down the road a certain +distance, dropping stones out of his pocket at each turning, and clears +out the surrounding drain-pipes to drain his bit of swamp, as his +amusements.)</p> + +<p>He showed us his two kinds of 12 lb. shells, high explosives and +shrapnel. The high explosive frightens the enemy aeroplane away by its +terrific bang, he says: our own airmen say they don't mind the shrapnel. +He says you can't distinguish between one kind of French aeroplane and +the Germans until they are close enough over you to see the colours +underneath, and then it may be too late to fire. "I'm terrified of +bringing down a French aeroplane," he said. He was a most cheerful, +ruddy, fit-looking boy.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">9 p.m.</span>—Another train full, and nearing Boulogne; a supply +train full of minor cases came down just before us from the same place, +where we've been three days running. The two Clearing Hospitals up there +are working at awful high pressure—filling in from Field Ambulances, +and emptying into the trains. All cases now have to go through the +Clearing Hospitals for classification and diagnosis and dressings, but +it is of a sketchy character, as you may imagine. They are all swarming +with J.J.'s, even the officers. One of the officers is wounded in the +head, shoulder, stomach, both arms, and both feet. A boy in my wards, +with a baby face, showed me a beautiful silver, enamelled and engraved +watch he got off a "Yewlan"; he was treasuring it in his belt "to take +home to Mother." I asked him if the Yewlan was dead. "Oh yes," he said, +his face lighting up with glee; "we shot him. He was like a pepper-pot +when we got to him." Isn't it horrible? And like the boy in 'Punch,' +he'd never killed anybody before he went to France. I wonder what +"Mother" will say to his cheerful little story.</p> + +<p>I have been busy bursting a bad quinsy with inhalers and fomentations. +After a few hours he could sing Tipperary and drink a bottle of stout!</p> + +<p>There are two Volunteer shop-boys from a London Territorial Regiment, +who call me "Madam" from force of habit.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, January 17th.</i>—We didn't unload at Boulogne last night, and +are still (11 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>) taking them on to Êtretat, a lovely place +on the coast, about ten miles north of Havre. The hospital there is my +old No.— General Hospital, that I mobilised with, so it will be very +jolly to see them all again.</p> + +<p>We are going through most lovely country on a clear sunny morning, and +none of the patients are causing any anxiety, so it is an extremely +pleasant journey, and we shall have a good rest on the way back.</p> + +<p>3 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Just as I was beginning to forget there were such +things as trenches and shrapnel and snipers, they told me a horrible +story of two Camerons who got stuck in the mud and sucked down to their +shoulders. They took an hour and a half getting one out, and just as +they said to the other, "All right, Jock, we'll have you out in a +minute," he threw back his head and laughed, and in doing so got sucked +right under, and is there still. They said there was no sort of +possibility of getting him out; it was like a quicksand.</p> + +<p>One told me—not as such a very sensational fact—that he went for +eleven weeks without taking off his clothes, <i>or a wash</i>, and then he +had a hot bath and a change of everything. He remarked that he had to +scrape himself with a knife.</p> + +<p>We have been travelling all day, and shan't get to Êtretat till about 7 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span> It is a mercy we got our bad cases off at Boulogne—pneumonias, +enterics, two s.f.'s, and some badly wounded, including the officer dressed +in bandages all over. He was such a nice boy. When he was put into clean +pyjamas, and had a clean hanky with eau-de-Cologne, he said, "By Jove, it's +worth getting hit for this, after the smells of dead horses, dead men, and +dead everything." He said no one could get into Messines, where there is +only one house left standing, because of the unburied dead lying about. +He couldn't move his arms, but he loved being fed with pigs of tangerine +orange, and, like so many, he was chiefly concerned with "giving so much +trouble." He looked awfully ill, but seldom stopped smiling. Of such are +the Kingdom of Heaven.</p> + +<p><i>Later. On way to Havre.</i>—These are all bound for home and have been +in hospital some time. They are clean, shaved, clothed, fed, and +convalescent. Most of the lying-downs are recovering from severe wounds +of weeks back. It is quite new even to see them at that stage, instead +of the condition we usually get them in. Some are the same ones we +brought down from Béthune three weeks ago.</p> + +<p>One man was in a dug-out going about twenty feet back from the trench, +with sixteen others, taking cover from our howitzers and also from the +enemy's. The cultivated ground is so soft with the wet that it easily +gives, and the bursting of one of our shells close by drove the roof in +and buried these seventeen—four were killed and eleven injured by it, +but only two were got out alive, and they were abandoned as dead. +However, a rescue party of six faced the enemy shells above ground and +tried to get them out. In doing this two were killed and two wounded. +The other two went on with it. My man and another man were pinned down +by beams—the other had his face clear, but mine hadn't, though he could +hear the picks above him. He gave up all hopes of getting out, but the +other man when rescued said he thought this one was still alive, and +then got him out unconscious. When he came to he was in hospital in a +chapel, and it took him a long time to realise he was alive. "They +generally take you into chapel before they bury you," he said, "but I +told 'em they done it the wrong way round with me. That was the worst +mess ever I got into in this War," he finished up.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, January 20th, Sotteville.</i>—The others have all been out, +but I've been a bit lazy and stayed in, washed my hair and mended my +clothes. This place is looking awfully pretty to-day, because all the +fields are flooded between us and the long line of high hills about a +mile away, and it looks like a huge lake with the trees reflected in it. +No orders to move, as usual. Ambulance trains travel as "specials" in a +"marche," which means a gap in the timetable. There are only about two +marches in twenty-four hours, and the R.T.O.'s have to fit the A.T.'s in +to one or other of these marches when orders come that No.— A.T. is +wanted. We do not get final orders of where our destination is till we +get to Hazebrouck or St Omer. We have been six days without a mail now, +and have taken loads to Êtretat and to Havre.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, January 21st.</i>—We were not a whole day at Sotteville for +once: moved out early this morning and are still travelling, 9 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, between Abbeville and Boulogne. It has been a specially +slow journey, and, alas! we didn't go by Amiens: the only time we might +have, by daylight. Beauvais has a fine Cathedral from the outside. I +believe we are to go straight on from Boulogne, so we may not get our +six days' mail, alas!</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, January 22nd.</i>—We didn't get in to B. till midnight, too late +to get mails, and left early this morning. At Calais it was discovered +that the kitchen had been left behind, in shunting a store waggon, so we +have been hung up all day waiting for it at St Omer. Went for a walk. It +is a most interesting place to walk about in, swarming with every kind +of war material, and the grey towers of the two Cathedrals looked lovely +in a blue sky. Such a dazzling day: we were able to get on with painting +the train, which is breaking out into the most marvellous labelling, the +orderlies competing with each other. But when at 6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> it +seemed the day would never end, No.— A.T. steamed up with our kitchen +tacked on, and in the kitchen was the mail-bag—joy of joys!</p> + +<p>We have just got to Bailleul, 10.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>: a few guns banging. +We are wondering if we shall clear the Cl. hospitals to-night or wait +till morning: depends if they are expecting convoys in to-night and are +full.</p> + +<p>11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—P. and I, fully rigged for night duty, have just been +gloomily exploring the perfectly silent and empty station and street, +wondering when the motor ambulances would begin to roll up, when B—— +hailed us from the train with "8 o'clock to-morrow morning, you two +sillies, and the Major's in bed!" so now we can turn in, and load up +happily by daylight, and it's my turn for the lying down, thank +goodness, or rather the Liers, as they are called.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, January 23rd.</i>—Another blue, sunny, frosty morning. Loading +up this morning was hard to attend to, as a thrilling Taube chase was +going on overhead, the sky peppered with bursting shells, and aeroplanes +buzzing around: didn't bring it down though.</p> + +<p>The train is full of very painful feet: like a form of large burning +chilblain all over the foot, and you can't do anything for them, poor +lambs.</p> + + +<p><i>Still Saturday, January 23rd.</i>—This is our first journey to +Versailles. My only acquaintance with it was on the way up from Le Mans +to Villeneuve to join this train. Two kind sisters, living in a sort of +little ticket office in the middle of the line, washed and fed me at 6 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> in between two trains, but I saw nothing of the glories +of Versailles—hope to to-morrow.</p> + +<p>I don't think the men will get much sleep, their feet are too bad, but +we are going to give them a good chance with drugs, the last thing. We +shall do the night in three watches.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, January 24th</i>, 5 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, <i>Versailles</i>.—They've had a +pretty good night most of them. If you see any compartment, say six +sitters and two top-liers showing signs of being near the end of their +tether, with bad feet and long hours of the train, you have only to say +cheerfully, "How are you getting on in this dug-out?" for every man to +brighten visibly, and there is a chorus of "If our dug-outs was like +this I reckon we shouldn't want no relievin'!" and a burst of wit and +merriment follows. You can try it all down the train; it never fails.</p> + +<p>They are all in 1st class coaches, not 3rds or 2nds.</p> + +<p>9.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—They have only four M.A.'s, and the hospital is +1-1/2 miles off, so all our 366 limping, muddy scarecrows are not off +yet. There is a mist and a piercing north wind, and lots of mud. The +A.T.'s do so much bringing the British Army from the field that I hope +some other trains are busy bringing the British Army to the field, or +there can't be many left in the field.</p> + +<p>They told me another story of a man in the Royal Scots who was sunk in +mud up to his shoulders, and the officer offered a canteen of rum and a +sovereign to the first man who could get him out. For five hours +thirteen men were digging for him, but it filled up always as they dug, +and when they got him out he died.</p> + +<p>6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Just getting to Rouen, probably to load for Havre. They +do keep us moving. We just had time to go and see the Palais Trianon +with the French Sergeant (who is nearly a gentleman, and an artist). Is +there anything else quite like it anywhere else? It was <i>défense +d'entrer</i>, so we only wandered round the grounds and looked in at the +windows, down the avenues and round the ponds and hundreds of statues, +and went up the great escalier. Louis Quatorze certainly did himself +proud.</p> + +<p>It was a long way to go, and we were walking for hours till we got +dog-tired after the long load from Bailleul, and after lunch retired +firmly on to our beds. I don't think we shall take patients on to-night.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, January 25th.</i>—We have been at Sotteville all day; had time to +read last week's 'Times'—an exceptionally interesting lot.</p> + +<p>Have just had orders to load up at Rouen for Havre to-morrow; then I +hope we shall go back to Boulogne. We have not stayed more than an hour +or two in Boulogne since January 9th—that is, for seventeen days; but +we've managed to just pick up our mails every few days while unloading +the bad cases. We ought to get back there for a mail on Thursday.</p> + +<p>We have taken down a good many Northamptons lately. They seem an +exceptionally seasoned and intelligent lot, and have been through the +thick of everything since Mons.</p> + +<p>Did I tell you that in one place (I don't suppose it is the same all +along the line) they are doing forty-eight hours in the trenches, +followed by forty-eight hours back in the billets (barns, &c.) for six +times, and then twelve days' rest, when they get themselves and their +rifles cleaned; they have armourers' shops for this.</p> + +<p>They nearly all say that only the men who are quite certain they never +will get back, say they want to. If any others say it, "well, they're +liars." But for all that, you do find one here and there who means it. +One Canadian asked how long he'd be sick with his feet. "I want to get +back to the regiment," he said. They seem rather out of it with the +Tommies, some of them.</p> + +<p>Just had a grand hot bath from a passing engine in exchange for +chocolate.</p> + +<p>We shall have a quiet night to-night. Sotteville is the quietest place +we ever sleep in; there is no squealing of whistles and shouting of +French railwaymen as in all the big stations. Last night they were +shunting and jigging us about all night between Rouen and Sotteville. +Slow bumping over hundreds of points is much worse to sleep in than fast +travelling. In either case you wake whenever you pull up or start off. +But we shall miss the train when we get into a dull hotel bedroom or a +billet, or perhaps a tent. My month at Le Mans in Madame's beautiful +French bed was the one luxury I've struck so far.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, 26th January.</i>—A dazzling blue spring day. As we were not +going in to load at Rouen till 3 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, we went for the most +glorious walk in this country. We crossed the ferry over the Seine to +the foot of the steep high line of hills which eventually overlooks +Rouen, and climbed up to the top by a lovely winding woody path in the +sun. (The boatman congratulated us on the sinking of the <i>Blücher</i>, as a +naval man, I suppose.) "Who said War?" said P. while we were waiting on +the shingle for the boat; it did seem very remote. At the top we got to +the Church of Le Bon Secours, which is in a very fine position with a +marvellous view. We had some lovely cider in a very clean pub with a +garden, and then took the tram down a very steep track into Rouen. I +was standing in the front of the tram for the view over Rouen, which was +dazzling, with the spires and the river and the bridges, when we turned +a sharp corner and smashed bang into a market-cart coming up our track. +For the moment one thought the man and woman and the horse must be done +for; the horse disappeared under the tram, and there arose such a +screaming that the three Tommies and I fell over each other trying to +get out to the rescue. When we did we found the man and woman had been +luckily shot out clear of the tram, except that the man's hand was torn, +and the old woman was frantically screaming, "Mon cheval, mon cheval, +mon cheval," at least a hundred times without stopping. The others were +out by this time and the two tram people, and the French clack went on +at its top speed, while P. and the Tommies and a very clever old woman +out of the tram tried to cut the horse clear of the broken cart, and I +did up the man's hand with our hankies; the only one concerned least was +the horse, who kept quiet with its legs mixed up in the tram. At last +the tram succeeded in moving clear of the horse without hurting it, and +it was got up smiling after all. The outside old woman went on picking +up the fish and the harness, &c., the man was taken off to have his +hand bathed, and the poor old woman of the cart stopped screaming "Mon +cheval, mon cheval," and went off to have a drink, and we walked on and +found a train at Rouen. That sort of thing is always happening in +France.</p> + +<p>I hope the overworked people at the heads of the various departments of +the British Army realise how the men appreciate what they try and do for +them in the trenches. If you ask what the billets are like, they say, +"Barns and suchlike; they do the best they can for us." If you ask if +the trench conditions are as bad for the Germans, they say, "They're +worse off; they ain't looked after like what we are."</p> + +<p>9.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—On way to Havre. I was just going to say that from +the Seine to Le Havre there is nothing to report, when I came across a +young educated German in my wards with his left leg off from the hip, +and his right from below the knee, and a bad shell wound in his arm, all +healed now, done at Ypres on 24th October. And I had an hour's most +thrilling and heated conversation with him in German. He was very down +on the English Sisters in hospital, because he says they hated him and +didn't treat him like the rest. I said that was because they couldn't +forget what his regiment (Bavarians) had done to the Belgian women and +children and old men, and the French. And he said <i>he</i> couldn't forget +how the Belgian women had put out the eyes of the German wounded at +Liège and thrown boiling water on them. I said they were driven to +it.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> I asked him a lot of straight questions about Germany and the +War, and he answered equally straight. He said they had food in Germany +for ten years, and that they had ten million men, and that all the +present students would be in the Army later on, and that practically the +supply could never stop. And I said that however long they could go on, +in the end there would be no more Germany because she was up against +five nations. He said no man has any fear of a Russian soldier, and that +though they were slow over it they would get Paris, but not London +except by Zeppelins; he admitted that it would be <i>sehr schwer</i> to land +troops in England, and that our Navy was the best, but we had so few +soldiers, they hardly counted! He got very excited over the Zeppelins. I +asked why the Germans hated the English, and he said, "In Berlin we do +not speak of the English at all(!!!); it is the French and the Russians +we hate." He said the Turks were no good <i>zu helfen</i>, and Austria not +much better. He was very down on Belgium for resisting in the first +place! and said the <i>Schuld</i> was with France and Russia. They were very +much astonished when England didn't remain neutral! He had the cheek to +say that three German soldiers were as good as twenty English, so I +assured him that five English could do for fifty Germans, and went on +explaining carefully to him how there could be no more Germany in the +end because the right must win! and he said, "So you say in England, but +we know otherwise in Deutschland, and I am a German." So as I am an +English we had to agree to differ. His faith in his <i>Vaterland</i> nearly +made him cry and must have given him a temperature. I felt quite used up +afterwards. He is fast asleep now. There is also an old soldier of +sixty-three who says General French and General Smith-Dorrien +photographed him as the oldest soldier in the British Army. He has four +sons in it, one killed, two wounded. He was with General Low in the +Chitral Expedition, and is called Donald Macdonald, of the K.O.S.B.'s. +"Unfortunately I was reduced to the ranks for being drunk the other +day," he said gaily. "But the Captain he said, 'Don't lose 'eart, +Macdonald, you'll get it all back.'"</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> I have since found that no sort of evidence was brought +forward by the Germans to support this charge, and it is emphatically +denied by the Belgian authorities.</p></div> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, January 27th.</i>—They have found a way of warming our +quarters when we have not an engine on. I don't know what we should +have done without it to-day; it is icy cold. Mails to-morrow, hurrah! +Going to turn in early.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, January 28th.</i>—Got to Boulogne this morning. Have been +getting stores in and repairs done; expect to be sent up any time. Sharp +frost and cold wind.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, January 29th.</i>—One of those difficult-to-bear days; hung up +all day at a place beyond St Omer, listening to guns, and doing nothing +when there's so much to be done. The line is probably too busy to let us +up. It happens to be a dazzling blue day, which must be wiping off 50 +per cent of the horrors of the Front. The other 50 per cent is what they +are out for, and see the meaning of.</p> + +<p>We are to go on in an hour's time, "destination unknown."</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, January 30th.</i>—We got up to Merville at one o'clock last +night, and loaded up only forty-five, and are now just going to load up +again at a place on the way back. We have been completely done out of +the La Bassée business; haven't been near it. No.— Cl. H. that we saw +on December 27th, where S.C. and two more of my No.— G.H. friends +were, had to be evacuated in a hurry, as several orderlies were killed +in the shelling.</p> + +<p>One of my badly woundeds says "the Major" (whose servant he has been for +four years) asked him to make up the fire in his dug-out, while he went +to the other end of the trench. While he was doing the fire a shell +burst over the dug-out and a bit went through his left leg and touched +his right. If the Major had been sitting in his chair where he was a +minute before, his head would have been blown off. He said, "When the +Major came back and found me, he drove everybody else away and stayed +with me all day, and made me cocoa, and at night carried my stretcher +himself and took me right to Headquarters." His eyes shine when he talks +of "the Major," and he seems so proud he got it instead.</p> + +<p>I asked a boy in the sitting-ups what was the matter with him. "Too +small," he said. Another said "Too young"; he was aged fifteen, in the +Black Watch.</p> + +<p>A young monkey, badly wounded in hand and throat (lighting a +cigarette—the shatter to his hand saved worse destruction to his +throat, though bad enough as it is), after we'd settled him in, fixed +his eye on me and said, "Are you going to be in here along of us all the +way?" "Yes," I said. "That's a good job," and he is taking good care to +get his money's worth, I can tell you.</p> + +<p>Some of them are roaring at the man in 'Punch' who made a gallant +attempt to do justice to all his Xmas presents at once. There is a +sergeant-major of the Royal Scots very indignant at having been made to +go sick with bad feet. Any attempt to fuss over him is met with "I need +no attention whatever, thank you, Sister. I feel more like apologising +for being in here. Only five weeks of active service," he growled.</p> + +<p>The latest Franco-British idea is to Arras the Boches till they Argonne!</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, January 31st.</i>—We did go on to Rouen. B. is full to the brim. +We have only unloaded at B. three times since Christmas.</p> + +<p>I'm beginning to think we waste a lot of sympathy on the poor wounded +rocking in a train all night after being on it all day. One of mine with +a bullet still in his chest, and some pneumonia, who seemed very ill +when he was put on at Merville, said this morning he felt a lot better +and had had the best night for five days! And my fidgety boy with the +wound in his throat made a terrible fuss at being put off at Boulogne +when he found he was the only one in his compartment to go and that I +wasn't going with him.</p> + +<p>I had the easy watch last night because of my cold, and went to bed at +<span class="smcap">1 a.m.</span>; got a hot bath this morning, and lay low all day till a +stroll between the Seine and the floods after tea (Sotteville). There +are four trains waiting here, and the C.S.'s have been skating on the +floods. We move on at 1 o'clock to-night. No.— A.T. had a bomb +dropped each side of their train at Bailleul, but they didn't explode.</p> + +<p>The French instruction books have come, and I am going to start the +French class for the men on the train; they are very keen to learn, +chiefly, I think, to make a little more running with the French girls at +the various stopping places.</p> + +<p>Two officers last night were awfully sick at not being taken off at B., +but I think they'll get home from Rouen. One said he must get home, if +only for ten minutes, to feel he was out of France.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, February 3rd.</i>—Moved on last night, and woke up at +Bailleul. Some badly wounded on the train, but not on my half.</p> + +<p>On the other beat, beyond Rouen, the honeysuckle is in leaf, the catkins +are out, and the woods are full of buds. What a difference it will make +when spring comes. On this side it is all canals, bogs, and pollards, +and the eternal mud.</p> + +<p>We found pinned on a sock from a London school child, "Whosoever +receives this, when you return conqueror, drop me a line," and then her +name and address!</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, February 4th.</i>—For once we unloaded at B. and went to bed +instead of taking them on all night to Rouen.</p> + +<p>Moved out of B. at 5 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, breakfast at St O., where we nearly +got left behind strolling on the line during a wait. We are going to +Merville in the mining district where L. is.</p> + +<p>3 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We have just taken on about seventy Indians, mostly +sick, some badly wounded. They are much cleaner than they used to be, in +clothes, but not, alas! in habits. Aeroplanes are chasing a Taube +overhead, but it is not being shelled. Guns are making a good noise all +round. We are waiting for a convoy of British now.</p> + +<p>It is a lovely afternoon.</p> + +<p>The guns were shaking the train just now; one big bang made us all pop +our heads out of the window to look for the bomb, but it wasn't a bomb. +A rosy-faced white-haired Colonel here just came up to me and said, +"You've brought us more firing this afternoon than we've heard for a +long time."</p> + +<p>We are filling up with British wounded now on the other half of the +train. It is getting late, and we shan't unload to-night.</p> + +<p><i>Later.</i>—We were hours loading up because all the motor drivers are +down with flu, and there were only two available. The rest are all busy +bringing wounded in to the Clearing Hospital.</p> + +<p>The spell of having the train full of slight medical cases and bad feet +seems to be over, and wounded are coming on again.</p> + +<p>Three of my sitting-up Indians have temperatures of 104, so you can +imagine what the lying-downs are like. They are very anxious cases to +look after, partly because they are another race and partly because they +can't explain their wants, and they seem to want to be let die quietly +in a corner rather than fall in with your notions of their comfort.</p> + +<p>At Bailleul on our last journey we took on a heavenly white puppy just +old enough to lap, quite wee and white and fat. He cries when he wants +to be nursed, and barks in a lovely falsetto when he wants to play, and +waddles after our feet when we take him for a walk, but he likes being +carried best.</p> + +<p>Some Tommies on a truck at Railhead brought him up for us; they adore +his little mother and two brothers.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, February 5th, Boulogne.</i>—We did get in late last night, and +got to bed at 1 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> They are unloading during the night again +now, and also loading up at night.</p> + +<p>One boy last night had lost his right hand; his left arm and leg were +wounded, and both his eyes. "Yes, I've got more than my share," he said, +"but I'll get over it all right." I didn't happen to answer for a +minute, and in a changed voice he said, "Shan't I? shan't I?" Of course +I assured him he'd get quite well, and that he was ticketed to go +straight to an eye specialist. "Thank God for that," he said, as if the +eye specialist had already cured him, but it is doubtful if any eye +specialist will save his eyes.</p> + +<p>To-day has been a record day of brilliant sun, blue sky and warm air, +and it has transformed the muddy, sloppy, dingy Boulogne of the last two +months into something more like Cornwall. We couldn't stop on the train +(there were no orders likely), in spite of being tired, but went in the +town in the morning, and on the long stone pier in the afternoon, and +then to tea at the buffet at the Maritime (where you have tea with real +milk and fresh butter, and jam not out of a tin, and a tablecloth, and a +china cup—luxuries beyond description). On the pier there were gulls, +and a sunny sort of salt wind and big waves breaking, and a glorious +view of the steep little town piled up in layers above the harbour, +which is packed with shipping.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (6)</h4> + +<h5>ROUEN—NEUVE CHAPELLE—ST ELOI</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>February 7, 1915, to March 31, 1915</i></p> + +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Under the lee of the little wood</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I'm sitting in the sun;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">What will be done in Flanders</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Before the day be done?</span><br /> +<br /> + +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Above, beyond the larches,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The sky is very blue;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'It's the smoke of hell in Flanders</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That leaves the sun for you.'"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">—H.C.F.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VIII.</h2> + +<h4>On No.— Ambulance Train (6).</h4> + +<h5>ROUEN—NEUVE CHAPELLE—ST ELOI.</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>February 7, 1915, to March 31, 1915.</i></p> + +<p>The Indians—St Omer—The Victoria League—Poperinghe—A bad load—Left +behind—Rouen again—An "off" spell—<i>En route</i> to +Êtretat—Sotteville—Neuve Chapelle—St Eloi—The Indians—Spring in +N.W. France—The Convalescent Home—Kitchener's boys.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, February 7th.</i>—This is a little out-of-the-way town called +Blendecque, rather in a hollow. No.— A.T. has been here before, and +the natives look at us as if we were Boches. There are 250 R.E. +inhabiting a long truck-train here. We have given them all our mufflers +and mittens; they had none, and the officer has had our officers to tea +with him. Our men have played a football match with them—drawn.</p> + +<p>We went for a splendid walk this morning up hill to a pine wood bordered +by a moor with whins. I've now got in my bunky-hole (it is not quite +six feet square) a polypod fern, a plate of moss, a pot of white +hyacinths, and also catkins, violets, and mimosa!</p> + +<p>I suppose we shall move on to-night if there is a marche.</p> + +<p>Many hundreds of French cavalry passed across the bridge over this +cutting this morning: they looked so jolly.</p> + +<p>One of the staff who has been to Woolwich on leave says that K.'s new +army there is extraordinarily promising and keen. So far we have only +heard good of those out here, from the old hands who've come across +them.</p> + +<p>9.45 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We are just getting to the place where all the +fighting is—La Bassée way. Probably we shall load up with wounded +to-night. There's a great flare some way off that looks like the burning +villages we used to see round Ypres. It is a very dark night.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday morning, February 8th.</i>—We stood by last night, and are just +going to load now. All is quiet here. Said to have been nothing +happening the last few days.</p> + +<p>7 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Nearing B. We've had a very muddly day, taking on at +four different places. I have a coach full of Indians. They have been +teaching me some more Hindustani. Some of them suddenly began to say +their prayers at sunset. They spread a small mat in front of them, knelt +down, and became very busy "knockin' 'oles in the floor with their +'eads," as the orderly describes it.</p> + +<p>We have a lot of woundeds from Saturday's fighting. They took three +German trenches, and got in with the bayonet until they were "treading" +on dead Germans! The wounded sitting-ups are frightfully proud of it. +After their personal reminiscences you feel as if you'd been jabbing +Germans yourself. They say they "lose their minds" in the charge, and +couldn't do it if they stopped to think, "because they're feelin' men, +same as us," one said.</p> + +<p>A corporal on his way back to the Front from taking some people down to +St O. under a guard saw one of his pals at the window in our train. He +leaped up and said, "I wish to God I could get chilblains and come down +with you." This to an indignant man with a shrapnel wound!</p> + +<p>I've got five bad cases of measles, with high temperatures and throats.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, February 9th.</i>—Again they unloaded us at B. last night, and +we are now, 11 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, on our way up again. The Indians I had +were a very interesting lot. The race differences seem more striking the +better you get to know them. The Gurkhas seem to be more like Tommies in +temperament and expression, and all the Mussulmans and the best of the +Sikhs and Jats might be Princes and Prime Ministers in dignity, feature, +and manners. When a Sikh refuses a cigarette (if you are silly enough to +offer him one) he does it with a gesture that makes you feel like a +housemaid who ought to have known better. The beautiful Mussulmans smile +and salaam and say Merbani, however ill they are, if you happen to hit +upon something they like. They all make a terrible fuss over their kit +and their puggarees and their belongings, and refuse to budge without +them.</p> + +<p>Sister M. found her orders to leave when we got in, but she doesn't know +where she is going. So after this trip we shall be three again, which is +a blessing, as there are not enough wards for four, and no one likes +giving any up. It also gives us a spare bunk to store our warehouses of +parcels for men, which entirely overflow our own dug-outs. As soon as +you've given out one lot, another bale arrives.</p> + +<p>We have had every kind of infectious disease to nurse in this war, +except smallpox. The Infectious Ward is one of mine, and we've had +enteric, scarlet fever, measles, mumps, and diphtheria.</p> + +<p>7 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We got to the new place where we wait for a marche, +just at tea-time, and we had a grand walk up to the moor, where you can +see half over France each way. There is a travelling wireless station +up there. Each pole has its receiver in a big grey motor-lorry by the +roadside, where they live and sleep. The road wound down to a little +curly village with a beautiful old grey church. On the top of the moor +on the way back it was dark, and the flash signals were morsing away to +each other from the different hills. It reminded me of the big forts on +the kopjes round Pretoria.</p> + +<p>I had my first French class this afternoon at St Omer, in the men's mess +truck. There were seventeen, including the Quartermaster-Sergeant and +the cook's boy. I'd got a small blackboard in Boulogne, and they all had +notebooks, and the Q.M.S. had arranged it very nicely. They were very +keen, and got on at a great pace. They weren't a bit shy over trying to +pronounce, and will I think make good progress. They have a great pull +over men of their class in England, by their opportunities of listening +to French spoken by the French, such a totally different language to +French spoken by most English people. My instruction book is Hugo's, +which is a lightning method compared to the usual school-books. They are +doing exercises for me for next time.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, February 10th</i>, 9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We woke at Merville after a +particularly rocky, noisy night journey, and loaded up there with +woundeds and sick, also Indians (but not in my wards for once). My +<i>blessés</i> kept me busy till the moment we unloaded this evening at B., +and I had not time to hear much about their doings. One extraordinarily +sporting boy had a wound right through his neck, involving his +swallowing. It took about half an hour to give him a feed, through a +tube, but he stuck it, smiling all the time.</p> + +<p>Another older man was shot in the stomach, and looked as if he wouldn't +get over it. He told me he'd already been in hospital eight weeks, shot +in the head at the Aisne. I said what hard luck to have to go through it +again. "It's got to be done," he said. "I didn't give it a thought. I +think I shall get over this," he said, "but I don't want to go back a +third time." He has a wife and three children in Ireland.</p> + +<p>We are to move up again at 4 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> Just had dinner (soup, boiled +beef as tough as a cable, and ration cheese and coffee), and the 'Daily +Mail.'</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, February 11th.</i>—We have spent most of the day at St Omer, +and got a lovely walk in this morning, along the canal, watching the big +barges which take 2000 tons of beetroots for sugar.</p> + +<p>There is a scheme on foot for fitting up these big barges as transport +for the sick (this one came from Furnes) as moving Clearing Hospitals. +I've been over one, in Rouen. They are not yet in use, but might be +rather jolly in the summer.</p> + +<p>It is the warmest spring day we've had. I had my second French class +this afternoon again at St Omer. We are now moving on, up to Bailleul. I +expect we shall take patients on this evening, and have them all night.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, February 12th</i>, 6 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—We did a record loading up in +fifty minutes last night, chiefly medical cases, and took eight hours to +crawl to Boulogne. Now we are on the way for Havre, but shall not get +there till about 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> to-night, so they will have a long day +in the train.</p> + +<p>A good many of the lying-downs are influenza, with high temperatures and +no voice. It is a bore getting to B. in the night, as we miss our mails +and the 'Daily Mail.'</p> + +<p>7 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—This is an interminable journey. Have not yet reached +Rouen, and shan't get to Havre till perhaps 2 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> The patients +are getting very weary, especially the sitting-ups. The wards of acute +liers you can run like a hospital. Some of the orderlies are now getting +quite keen on having their wards clean and swept, and the meals and +feeds up to time, and the washings done, but it has taken weeks to bring +them up to it. When they do all that well I can get on with the diets, +temperatures, treatments, and dressings, &c. On the long journeys we +take round at intervals smokes, chocolate, papers, hankies, &c., when we +have them. The Victoria League has done me well in bales of hankies. +They simply love the affectionate and admiring messages pinned on from +New Zealand, and one of them always volunteers to answer them.</p> + +<p>We shall be up in shifts again to-night.</p> + +<p>We are all hoping to have a day in Rouen on the way back, for baths, +hair-washing, shopping, seeing the Paymaster, and showing the new Sister +the sights. For sheer beauty and interestingness it is the most +endearing town; you don't know which you love best—its setting with the +hills, river, and bridge, or its beautiful spires and towers and +marvellous old streets and houses.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, February 13th</i>, 2 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Still on the way to Havre! +And we loaded up on Thursday. This journey is another revelation of what +the British soldier will stick without grumbling. The sitting-ups are +eight in a carriage, some with painful feet, some with wounded arms, and +some with coughs, rheumatism, &c., but you don't hear a word of +grousing. It is only when things are prosperous and comfortable that +Tommy grumbles and has grievances. Some of the liers are too ill to +know how long they've been on the train. One charming Scotchman, who +enlisted for K.'s Army, but was put into the Regulars because he could +shoot, has just asked me to write my name and address in his little book +so that he can write from England. He also says we must "look after +ourselves" and "study our health," because there's a bad time coming, +and our Country will need us! He's done his share, after an operation, +and will never be able to do any more. Everything points to this Service +having to put out all it can, both here and at home. Many new hospitals +are being organised, and there are already hundreds.</p> + +<p>We have a poor lunatic on board who keeps asking us to let his wife come +in. The train is crawling with J.J.'s.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday</i>, 4.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Just seen the last stretcher off; now +going to undress (first time since Wednesday night) and turn in.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 13th February, Havre.</i>—It is four months to-day since I +joined the train. It seems much longer in some ways, and yet the days go +by very quickly—even the off-days; and when the train is full the hours +fly.</p> + +<p>We went into the familiar streets this morning that we saw so much of in +August, "waiting for orders," and had a look at the sea. The train +moved off at tea-time, so we had the prettiest part of the journey in a +beautiful evening sunlight, lighting up the woods and hills. The palm is +out, and the others saw primroses. We have also seen some snowdrops.</p> + +<p>After a heavy journey, with two nights out of bed, you don't intend to +do any letter-writing or mending or French classes, but look out of the +window or sleep or read Dolly Dialogues. You always get compensation for +these journeys in the longer journey back, with probably a wait at Rouen +or Sotteville, and possibly another at Boulogne. We have been going up +and down again very briskly this last fortnight between B. and the Back +of the Front.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, 14th.</i>—A dismal day at Sotteville; pouring cats and dogs all +day, and the train cold.</p> + + +<p><i>Shrove Tuesday.</i>—We were all day coming up yesterday. Got to B. in the +middle of the night, and went on again to St Omer, where we woke this +morning, so we missed our mails again; it will be a full week's mails +when we do get them. Lovely blue sky to-day. Had a walk with Sister B. +round the town, and now this afternoon we are on the way to Poperinghe, +in a beaten country, where we haven't been for three months. French +class due at 3 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> if we haven't got there by then.</p> + +<p>We have just passed a graveyard absolutely packed with little wooden +crosses.</p> + + +<p><i>Ash Wednesday, February 17th</i>, 6 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—We took on a very bad +load of wounded at Poperinghe, more like what used to happen three +months ago in the same place; they were only wounded the night before, +and some the same day. The Clearing Hospital had to be cleared +immediately.</p> + +<p>We have just got to B., and are going to unload here at 8.30 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span></p> + +<p>Must stop. Hope to get a week's mails to-day.</p> + +<p>A brisk air battle between one British and one French and two Taubes was +going on when we got there, and a perfect sky for it. Very high up.</p> + +<p>A wounded major on the train was talking about the men. "It's not a case +of our leading the men; we have a job to keep up with them."</p> + +<p>It was a pretty sad business getting them off the train this morning; +there were so many compound fractures, and no amount of contriving +seemed to come between them and the jolting of the train all night. And, +to add to the difficulties, it was pouring in torrents and icy cold, and +the railway people refused to move the train under cover, so they went +out of a warm train on to damp stretchers in an icy rain. They were +nearly all in thin pyjamas, as we'd had to cut off their soaking khaki: +they were practically straight from the trenches. But once clear of +trains, stretchers, and motor ambulances they will be warmed, washed, +fed, bedded, and their fractures set under an anæsthetic. One man had +his arm blown to pieces on Monday afternoon, had it amputated on Monday +night, and was put into one of our wards on Tuesday, and admitted to +Base Hospital on Wednesday. But that is ticklish work.</p> + +<p>One boy, a stretcher-bearer, with both legs severely wounded, very +nearly bled to death. He was pulled round somehow. About midnight, when +he was packed up in wool and hot-water bottles, &c., when I asked him +how he was feeling, he said gaily, "Quite well, delightfully warm, thank +you!" We got him taken to hospital directly the train got in at 4 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> The others were unloaded at 9 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span></p> + +<p>We are now—5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—on our way to Étaples, probably to clear +the G.H. there, either to-night or to-morrow morning. It hasn't stopped +pouring all day. It took me till lunch to read my enormous mail.</p> + +<p>Major T. has heard to-day that the French railway people want his train +back again for passenger traffic, so the possibility of our all being +suddenly disbanded and dispersed is hanging over us; but I believe it +has been threatened before.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, February 18th.</i>—In bed, 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> We have had a very +heavy day with the woundeds again from Bailleul. We unloaded again at B. +this evening, and are to go up again some time to-night.</p> + +<p>There is a great deal going on in our front.</p> + +<p>There was a boy from Suffolk, of K.'s Army, in my ward who has only been +out three weeks. He talked the most heavenly East Anglian—"I was agin +the barn, and that fared to hit me"—all in the right sing-song.</p> + +<p>A sergeant of the D.C.L.I. had a fearful shell wound in his thigh, which +has gone wrong, and as the trouble is too high for amputation they will +have their work cut out to save his life. They were getting out of the +trench for a bayonet charge, and he had just collected his men when he +was hit; so the officer "shook hands with him" and went on with the +charge, leaving him and another man, wounded in the leg, in the trench. +They stayed there several hours with no dressings on, sinking into the +mud (can you wonder it has gone wrong?), until another man turned up and +helped them out; then they <i>walked</i> to the Regimental Aid Post, 200 +yards away, helped by the sound man. There they were dressed and had the +anti-tetanus serum injection, and were taken by stretcher-bearers to the +next Dressing Station, and thence by horse ambulance to the Field +Ambulance, and then by motor ambulance to where we picked them up. There +are lots of F.'s regiment wounded.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, February 19th.</i>—We left B. at 5 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> to-day, and were +delayed all the morning farther up by one of the usual French +collisions. A guard had left his end of a train and was on the engine; +so he never noticed that twelve empty trucks had come uncoupled and +careered down a hill, where they were run into and crumpled up by a +passenger train. The guard of that one was badly injured (fractured +spine), but the passengers only shaken.</p> + +<p>At St Omer Miss M. and Major T. and I were being shown over the Khaki +Train when ours moved off. There was a wild stampede; the Khaki Train +had all its doors locked, and we had miles to go inside to get out. +Their orderlies shouted to ours to pull the communication cord—the only +way of appealing to the distant engine; so it slowed down, and we +clambered breathlessly on. We are side-tracked now at the jolly place of +the Moor and the Wireless Lorries; probably move on in the night.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, February 20th</i>, 9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We've had a very +unsatisfactory day, loading up at four different places, and still on +our way down. I'm just going to lie down, to be called at 2 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> Now we're four: two go to bed for the whole night and the +other two take the train for half the night when we have a light load, +as to-day. If they are all bad cases, we have two on and two off for the +two watches. We have some Indians on to-day, but most British, and not +many <i>blessés</i>.</p> + +<p>The other day a huge train of reinforcements got divided by mistake: the +engine went off with all the officers, and the men had a joy-ride to +themselves, invaded the cafés, where they sometimes get half poisoned, +and in half an hour's time there was a big scrap among themselves, with +fifty casualties. So the story runs.</p> + +<p>A humane and fatherly orderly has just brought me a stone hot-water +bottle for my feet as I write this in the rather freezing dispensary +coach in the middle of the train, in between my rounds. All the worst +cases and the Indians were put off at B., and the measles, mumps, and +diphtherias, so there isn't much to do; some are snoring like an +aeroplane.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, February 22nd.</i>—We got a short walk yesterday evening after +unloading at Rouen. There was a glorious sunset over the bridge, and the +lights just lighting up, and Rouen looked its beautifulest. We slept at +Sotteville, and this morning Sister and I walked down the line into +Rouen and saw the Paymaster and the Cathedral, and did some shopping, +and had a boiled egg and real butter and tea for lunch, and came back in +the tram. Sister S. is in bed with influenza.</p> + +<p>The lengthening days and better weather are making a real difference to +the gloom of things, and though there is a universal undercurrent of +feeling that enormous sacrifices will have to be made, it seems to be +shaping for a step farther on, and an ultimate return to sanity and +peace. It is such a vast upheaval when you are in the middle of it, that +you sometimes actually wonder if every one has gone mad, or who has gone +mad, that all should be grimly working, toiling, slaving, from the +firing line to the base, for more Destruction, and for more +highly-finished and uninterrupted Destruction, in order to get Peace. +And the men who pay the cost in intimate personal and individual +suffering and in death are not the men who made the war.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, February 24th.</i>—We have been all day in Boulogne, and move +up at 8.15 this evening, which means loading up after breakfast and +perhaps unloading to-morrow evening. It has given Sister S. another day +to recover from her attack of influenza.</p> + +<p>Have been busy one way and another all day, but went for a walk after +tea and saw over the No.— G.H. at the Casino—a splendid place, +working like clockwork. Lots of bad cases, but they all look clean and +beautifully cared for and rigged up.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, February 25th.</i>—Moved up to the place with the moor during +the night. Glorious, clear, sunny morning. Couldn't leave the train for +a real walk, as there were no orders.</p> + +<p>This time last year the last thing one intended to do was to go and +travel about France for six months, with occasional excursions into +Belgium!</p> + +<p>'The Times' sometimes comes the next day now.</p> + +<p>9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—The ways of French railways are impenetrable: in spite +of orders for Bailleul before lunch, we are still here, and less than +ever able to leave the train for a walk.</p> + +<p>This is the fourth day with no patients on—the longest "off" spell +since before Christmas. It shows there's not much doing or much medical +leakage.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, February 26th.</i>—We loaded up this morning with a not very bad +lot (mine all sitters except some enterics, a measles, and a +diphtheria), and are on our way down again.</p> + +<p>I am all ready packed to get off at B. if my leave is in Major M.'s +office.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, February 27th</i>, 9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, <i>Hotel at Boulogne</i>.—All +the efforts to get my seven days' leave have failed, as I thought they +would.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, March 3rd, Boulogne.</i>—There is not a great deal to do or +see here, especially on a wet day.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, March 5th</i>, 5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—On way down from Chocques—mixed +lot of woundeds, medicals, Indians, and Canadians.</p> + +<p>I have a lad of 24 with both eyes destroyed by a bullet, and there is a +bad "trachy."</p> + +<p>Nothing very much has been going on, but the German shells sometimes +plop into the middle of a trench, and each one means a good many +casualties.</p> + +<p>10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We've had a busy day, and are not home yet.</p> + +<p>My boy with the dressings on his head has not the slightest idea that +he's got no eyes, and who is going to tell him? The pain is bad, and he +has to have a lot of morphia, with a cigarette in between.</p> + +<p>We shall probably not unload to-night, and I am to be called at 2 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span></p> + +<p>The infectious ward is full with British enterics, dips., and measles, +and Indian mumpies.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, March 6th, Boulogne.</i>—Instead of being called at 2 for duty, +was called at 1 to go to bed, as they unloaded us at that hour.</p> + +<p>Last night we pulled up at Hazebrouck alongside a troop train with men, +guns, and horses just out from the Midlands.</p> + +<p>Two lads in a truck with their horses asked me for cigarettes. Luckily, +thanks to the Train Comforts Fund's last whack, I had some. One said +solemnly that he had a "coosin" to avenge, and now his chance had come. +They both had shining eyes, and not a rollicking but an eager excitement +as they asked when the train would get "there," and looked as if they +could already see the shells and weren't afraid.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, March 7th.</i>—We are stuck in the jolly place close to G.H.Q., +but can't leave the train as there are no orders. I've been having a +French class, with the wall of the truck for a blackboard, and +occasional bangs from a big gun somewhere.</p> + + +<p><i>Tail-end of Monday, March 8th.</i>—On way down to Êtretat, where +No.— G.H. is, which we shall reach to-morrow about tea-time. A load of +woundeds this time; very busy all day till now (midnight), and haven't +had time to hear many of their adventures. They seem to all come from a +line of front where the Boches are persistently hammering to break +through, and though they don't get any forrarder they cause a steady +leakage. We heard guns all the while we were loading. A dressing-station +five miles away had just been shelled, and a major, R.A.M.C., killed and +two other R.A.M.C. officers wounded.</p> + +<p>I have a man wounded in eight places, including a fractured elbow and a +fractured skull, which has been trephined. What is left of him that +hasn't stopped bullets is immensely proud of his bandages! He was one of +nineteen who were in a barn when a shell came through the roof and burst +inside, spitting shrapnel bullets all over them; all wounded and one +killed. We have just put off an emergency case of gas gangrene, temp. +105, who came on as a sitter! They so often say after a bad dressing, +"I'm a lot of trouble to ye, Sister."</p> + +<p><i>Later.</i>—Just time for a line before I do another round and then call +my relief. It is an awfully cold night.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, March 9th, 12 noon.</i>—We are passing through glorious country +of wooded hills and valleys, with a blue sky and shining sun, and all +the patients are enjoying it. It is still very cold, and there is a +little snow about. They call their goatskin coats "Teddy Bears." One +very ill boy, wounded in the lungs, who was put off at Abbeville, was +wailing, "Where's my Mary Box?" as his stretcher went out of the window. +We found it, and he was happy.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, March 10th.</i>—We got to Êtretat at about 3 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> +yesterday after a two days' and one night load, and had time to go up to +the hospital, where I saw S. The Matron was away. We only saw it at +night last time, so it was jolly getting the afternoon there. The sea +was a thundery blue, and the cliffs lit up yellow by the sun, and with +the grey shingle it made a glorious picture to take back to the train. +It had been a heavy journey with bad patients, and we were rather tired, +so we didn't explore much.</p> + +<p>We woke at Sotteville near Rouen this morning, and later in the day had +a most fatiguing and much too exciting adventure over catching the +train. Two of the Sisters and I walked into Rouen about 10.30, and found +No.— A.T. marked up as still at Sotteville (in the R.T.O.'s office), +and so concluded it would be there all day. So we did our businesses of +hair-washing, Cathedral, lunch, &c., and then took the tram back to +Sotteville. The train had gone! The Sotteville R.T.O. (about a mile off) +told us it was due to leave Rouen loaded up for Havre at 2.36; it was +then 2.15, and it was usually about three-quarters of an hour's walk up +the line (we'd done it once this morning), so we made a desperate dash +for it. Sister M. walks very slowly at her best, so we decided that I +should sprint on and stop the train, and she and the other follow up. +The Major met me near our engine, and was very kind and concerned, and +went on to meet the other two. The train moved out three minutes after +they got on. Never again!—we'll stick on it all day rather than have +such a narrow shave.</p> + +<p>We are full of convalescents for Havre to go straight on to the boat. +They are frightfully enthusiastic about the way the British Army is +looked after in this war. "There's not much they don't get for us," they +said.</p> + +<p>There are crowds of primroses out on the banks. Our infant R.A.M.C. +(Officer's Mess) cook (a boy of about twenty, who looks sixteen and +cooks beautifully) has just jumped off the train while it was going, +grabbed a handful of primroses, and leapt on to the train again some +coaches back. He came back panting and rosy, and said, "I've got some +for you, Sister!" We happened not to be going fast, but there was no +question of stopping. I got some Lent lilies in Rouen, and have some +celandines growing in moss, so it looks like spring in my bunk.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, March 11th.</i>—Yesterday we took a long time getting to the +ship from R., and unloaded at 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> Why we had no warning +about the departure of the train (and so nearly got left behind) was +because it was an emergency call suddenly to clear the hospitals at R. +to make room for 600 more expected from the Front.</p> + +<p>We are being rushed up again without being stopped at Rouen for the +first time on record, so I suppose there is a good deal doing. (There +was—at Neuve Chapelle.)</p> + +<p>It is a comfort to remember that the men themselves don't grudge or +question what happens to them, and the worse they're wounded the more +they say, "I think I'm lucky; my mate next me got killed."</p> + +<p>The birds are singing like anything now, and all the buds are coming +out, and the banks and woods are a mass of primroses.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, March 12th.</i>—We came straight through Boulogne in the night, +and have been stuck half way to the Front all day; I don't know why.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, March 13th.</i>—We woke at the railhead for Béthune this +morning, and cleared there and at the next place, mostly wounded and +some Indians.</p> + +<p>It was frightfully interesting up there to-day; we saw the famous German +prisoners taken at Neuve Chapelle being entrained, and we could hear our +great bombardment going on—the biggest ever known in any war. The +feeling of Advance is in the air already, and even the wounded are +exulting in it. The Indians have bucked up like anything. We are on our +way down now, and shall probably unload at B.</p> + +<p>No time for more now.</p> + +<p>11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We unloaded at B. by 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, and are now on +our way up again; shortest time we've ever waited—one hour after the +last patient is off. A.T.'s have been tearing up empty and back full all +day, and are all being unloaded at B., so that they can go quickly up +again. B. has been emptied before this began.</p> + +<p>They were an awfully +brave lot of badly woundeds to-day, but they always are. Just now they +don't mind anything—even getting hit by our artillery by mistake. Some +of them who were near enough to see the effect of our bombardment on the +enemy's trenches say they saw men, legs, and arms shot into the air. And +the noise!—they gasp in telling you about it. "You could never believe +it," they say. An officer told me exactly how many guns from 9.2's +downwards we used, all firing at once. And poor fat Germans, and thin +Germans, and big Germans, and little Germans at the other end of it.</p> + +<p>A man of mine with his head shattered and his hand shot through was +trephined last night, and his longitudinal sinus packed with gauze. He +was on the train at 9 this morning, and actually improved during the +day! He came to in the afternoon enough to remark, as if he were doing a +French exercise, "You-are-a-good-Nurse!" The next time he woke he said +it again, and later on with great difficulty he gave me the address of +his girl, to whom I am to write a post-card. I do hope they'll pull him +through.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, March 14th</i>, 4 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Just bringing down another load. +I have a hundred and twenty wounded alone; the train is packed.</p> + +<p>No time for more—the J.J.'s are swarming.</p> + +<p>We unloaded at B. yesterday evening, and were off again within an hour +or two.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, March 15th</i>, 2.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Woke up just as we arrived at +Bailleul to hear most incessant cannonade going on I ever heard, even at +Ypres. The sky is continually lit up with the flashes from the guns—it +is a pitch-dark night—and you can hear the roar of the howitzers above +the thud-thud of the others. I think we are too far N. for there to be +any French 75's in it. I had to wake Sister D. to see it, as she had +never seen anything like it before. We are only a few miles away from +it.</p> + +<p>Must try and sleep now, as we shall have a heavy day to-day, but it is +no lullaby.</p> + +<p>4.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Just time for a scrawl. The train is packed with +wounded, most of whom, including the poor sitting-ups, are now dead +asleep from exhaustion. The British Army is fighting and marching all +night now. The Clearing Hospitals get 800 in at a time, many with no +dressings on. We have twenty-seven officers on this train alone.</p> + +<p>I have a boy of 22 with both legs off. He is dazed and white, and wants +shifting very often. Each time you fix him up he says, "That's +champion."</p> + +<p>Forty of them were shelled in their billets.</p> + +<p>The Germans are said to be, some of them, fighting in civilian clothes +till they get their uniforms. The men say there are hundreds of young +boys and old men among them; they are making a desperate effort and +bringing everything they've got into it now.</p> + +<p><i>Later.</i>—We also have mumps, measles, scarlet fever, and diphtheria in +the infectious coach.</p> + +<p>A baby lieut. with measles showed me some marvellous sketch-maps of +German trenches and positions he'd made from observations through a +periscope. He also had the very latest thing in sectional war maps, +numbered in squares, showing every tree, farm, and puddle and trench: a +place with four cross-roads was called "Confusion Corner," leading to a +farm called "Rest-and-be-Thankful."</p> + +<p>10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Just got them all off after a strenuous day, and we +are to go up again at 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span></p> + +<p>The two German divisions that reinforced are giving us a tremendous lot +to do.</p> + +<p>It is just as well that this department was prepared for this, as it all +goes like clockwork and an enormous amount of suffering is saved by +their preparedness.</p> + +<p>The amount that cannot be saved is grim enough.</p> + +<p>Must go to bed.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, March 16th.</i>—We loaded up very early this morning with 316 +Indians, and are just getting into Boulogne. I expect we shall be sent +up again this evening.</p> + +<p>One of the Sikhs wailed before, during, and after his hand was dressed. +A big Mussulman stuffed his hanky between his teeth and bit on it, and +never uttered, and it was a much worse one. What was he to do with +crying, he said; it was right for it to be done. May God bring blessings +on my head; whereas it was full of pain, lo, now it was atcha.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, March 17th.</i>—I didn't tell you that yesterday a kind I.M.S. +colonel at the place where we took the Indians on showed us a huge pile +of used shell cases near the station, and we all had some. I've got a +twelve-pounder and a sixteen-pounder, like my pom-poms, only huge. Next +time he's going to get us some Gurkha's kukries. On the way down a +little Gurkha happened to get off the train for a minute, and when he +looked round the train had gone past him. He ran after it, and perched +on one of the buffers till the next stop, when he reappeared, trembling +with fright, but greeted with roars of amusement by the other Gurkhas.</p> + +<p>We had some more to-day, including twelve with mumps, and one who +insisted on coming with his mumpy friend though quite well himself!</p> + +<p>We woke this morning at Merville, one of the railheads for Neuve +Chapelle, and loaded up very early—guns going as hard as ever. Mine +were a very bad lot—British (except the twelve native mumpers), +including some brave Canadians. They kept me very busy till the moment +of unloading, which is a difficult and painful business with these bad +ones; but the orderlies are getting very gentle and clever with them. I +had among them eight Germans, several mere boys. One insisted on kissing +my hand, much to the orderlies' amusement.</p> + +<p>(A truckful of pigs outside is making the most appalling noise. 11 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span> I am writing in bed. We generally move up about 11.30 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span>)</p> + +<p>Every journey we hear thrilling accounts, rumours, and forecasts, most +of which turn out to be true. We have had a lot of the St Eloi people.</p> + +<p>There were several versions of a story of some women being found in a +captured German trench. One version said they were French captives, +another that they were German wives.</p> + +<p>In one compartment were five Tommies being awfully kind to one German; +and yet if he had a rifle, and they had theirs, he'd be a dead man.</p> + +<p>The hospitals at Boulogne are so busy that no one goes off duty, and +they are operating all night.</p> + +<p>We had time for a blow across the bridge after unloading, and I happened +to meet my friend S. (who was at Havre). She is on night duty, and they +are grappling with those awful cases all night as hard as they can go. +Four were taken out of the motor ambulances dead this week; the jolting +is the last straw for the worst ones; it can't possibly be helped, "but +it seems a pity."</p> + +<p>In all this rush we happen to have had nights in bed, which makes all +the difference.</p> + +<p>The pigs still squeal, but I must try and go to sleep.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, March 18th.</i>—We have had an off-day to-day at the place of +woods and commons, which I hope and trust means that things are +slackening off. It doesn't do to look ahead at what must be coming, now +the ground is drying up before the job is finished; but we can be +thankful for the spells of rest that come for the poor army.</p> + +<p>We had a heavenly ramble this morning, and found blue periwinkles and +anemones in the woods, but no primroses. Lots of palm and gorse. Robins, +willow-wrens, and yellow-hammers were singing, the darlings, much +prettier music than guns, and it is good to get away from the sound of +motors and trains and whistles.</p> + +<p>We also had home-made bread and butter to-day out of the village, which +caused more excitement than the Russian successes. We are having much +nicer food since the French chef left, and it costs us exactly half as +much.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, March 19th.</i>—On the way down. Woke up at Bailleul, and loaded +early wounded and sick. Not such severe cases among the wounded, but +several pneumonias, enterics, &c., besides measles, diphtheria, and +scarlet.</p> + +<p>Very cold windy day, with snow on the ground and showers of snow at +intervals.</p> + +<p>Some of mine are from the St Eloi, fighting last Sunday and Monday.</p> + +<p>Some of N.'s regiment were badly caught between two ruined houses, each +containing Maxims and machine-guns. They had just been reinforced by +some young recruits of K.'s Army who detrained that night to go straight +into the charge. "They come on well, them youngsters," said an old +soldier, "but they got terrible mowed down. We lost nine officers in a +quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p>It has been a very costly splash altogether.</p> + +<p>One officer on the train has fourteen wounds.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, March 20th, Boulogne.</i>—The hospitals here have been pretty +well emptied home now, and are ready for the next lot.</p> + +<p>Here we have been standing by all day while a big Committee at Abbeville +is settling whether our beloved and beautiful No.— A.T. is to be +handed back to the French railway; and if so, whether it will be +replaced by inferior French carriages, or whether one of the four new +British trains that are coming will be handed over to us, or whether all +the <i>personnel</i> will be disbanded and dispersed. I have a feeling that +its day is over, but perhaps things will turn out better than that.</p> + +<p>I have been for five walks to-day, including a bask in the sun on the +sands, and a bath at the Club and a visit to the nice old R.C. church +and the flower-market.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, March 23rd</i>, 9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Waiting all day at G.H.Q.; +things are unusually quiet; one train has been through with only ninety, +and another with a hundred. We went for a walk along the canal this +morning with the wee puppy, and this afternoon saw over the famous jute +factory Convalescent Home, where they have a thousand beds under one +roof: it is like a town divided into long wards,—dining-rooms, +recreation rooms, dressing station, chiropodist, tailor's shop, &c.—by +shoulder-high canvas or sailcloth screens; they have outside a kitchen, +a boiler, a disinfector for clothes, and any amount of baths. They have +a concert every Saturday night. The men looked so absolutely happy and +contented with cooked instead of trench food, and baths and games and +piano, and books and writing, &c. They stay usually ten days, and are by +the tenth day supposed to be fit enough for the trenches again; it often +saves them a permanent breakdown from general causes, and is a more +economical way of treating small disablements than sending them to the +Base Hospitals. Last week they had five hundred wounded to treat, and +two of the M.O.'s had to take a supply-train of seven hundred slightly +wounded down to Rouen with only two orderlies. They had a bad journey. I +had a French class after tea. We are now expecting to-day's London +papers, which are due here about 9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span></p> + +<p>Have got some Hindustani to learn for my next lesson (from Sister B.), +so will stop this.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, March 24th.</i>—Moved on at 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> and woke up at +Chocques; a few smallish guns going. Loaded up there very early and at +two other places, and are now nearly back to Boulogne, mostly wounded +and a few Indians; some of them are badly damaged by bombs.</p> + +<p>The men in the Neuve Chapelle touch were awfully disappointed that they +weren't allowed to push on to Lille. The older men say wonderful things +of K.'s boys: "The only fault we 'ave to find wi' 'em is that they +expose theirselves too much. 'Keep your 'eads down!' we 'ave to say all +the time. All they wants is to charge."</p> + +<p>According to the men, we shall be busy again at the end of this week.</p> + +<p><i>Midnight.</i>—On way to coast near Havre where No.— G.H. is. Put all +worst cases off at B., the rest mostly sleeping peacefully. Passed a +place on coast not far S. of B., where six hundred British workmen are +working from 7 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> to 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> building hospital huts +for 12,000 beds, a huge encampment, ready for future business.</p> + +<p>Have seen cowslips and violets on wayside. Lovely moonlight night. Train +running very smoothly.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, March 25th.</i>—There is a great deal of very neat and +elaborate glass market-gardening going on round Rouen: it looks from the +train an unbroken success; thousands of fat little plants with their +glass hats off and thousands more with them on, and very little labour +that can be seen. But the vegetables we buy for our mess are not +particularly cheap.</p> + +<p>9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, <i>R.</i>— There are three trains waiting here, or rather at +S., which means a blessed lull for the people in the firing line.</p> + +<p>There was a day or two after Neuve Chapelle when the number of wounded +overflowed the possibilities of "collection"; the stretcher-bearers were +all hit and the stretchers were all used, and there were not enough +medical officers to cope with the numbers (extra ones were hurried up +from the Base Hospitals very quickly), and if you wanted to live you had +to walk or crawl, or stay behind and die. We had a Canadian on who told +me last night that he should never forget the stream of wounded dragging +themselves along that road from Neuve Chapelle to Estaires who couldn't +be found room for in the motor ambulances. Two trains picked them up +there, and there were many deaths on the trains and in the motor +ambulances. The "Evacuation" was very thorough and rapid to the bases +and to the ships, but in any great battle involving enormous casualties +on both sides there must be some gaps you can't provide for.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, March 26th.</i>—At Sotteville all day.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, March 27th.</i>—Ditto. Piercing cold winds and no heating for a +month past.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, March 28th.</i>—Ditto.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, March 29th.</i>—Ditto.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, March 30th.</i>—Ditto. This cold wind has dried up the mud +everywhere, and until to-day there's been a bright sun with it.</p> + +<p>The men clean the train and play football, and the M.O.'s take the puppy +out, and everybody swears a great deal at a fate which no one can alter, +and we are all craving for our week-old mails.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, March 31st.</i>—We actually acquired an engine and got a move +on at 4 o'clock this morning, and are now well away north. Just got out +where we stopped by a fascinating winding river, and got some brave +marsh-marigolds.</p> + +<p>5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Just getting into Boulogne.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX.</h2> + +<h4>With No.— Field Ambulance (1)</h4> + +<h5>BILLETS: LIFE AT THE BACK OF THE FRONT</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>April 2, 1915, to April 29, 1915</i></p> + +<p class="indented"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"The fighting man shall from the sun</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Take warmth, and life from the glowing earth;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Speed with the light-foot winds to run,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">And with the trees to newer birth;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And find, when fighting shall be done,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Great rest, and fulness after dearth."</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;" class="smcap" >—Julian Grenfell.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IX.</h2> + +<h4>With No.— Field Ambulance (1).</h4> + +<h5>BILLETS: LIFE AT THE BACK OF THE FRONT.</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>April 2, 1915, to April 29, 1915.</i></p> + +<p>Good Friday and Easter, 1915—The Maire's Château—A walk to Beuvry—The +new billet—The guns—A Taube—The Back of the Front—A soldier's +funeral—German Machine-guns—Gas fumes—The Second Battle of Ypres.</p> + + +<p><i>Good Friday, April 2nd.</i>—We got into Boulogne on Wednesday from +Sotteville at 5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, and as soon as the train pulled up a new +Sister turned up "to replace Sister ——," so I prepared for the worst +and fully expected to be sent to Havre or Êtretat or Rouen, and began to +tackle my six and a half months' accumulation of belongings. In the +middle of this Miss —— from the Matron-in-Chief arrived with my +Movement Orders "to proceed forthwith to report to the O.C. of +No.— Field Ambulance for duty," so hell became heaven, and here I am +at railhead waiting for a motor ambulance to take me and my baggage to +No.— F.A. wherever it is to be found.</p> + +<p>The Railway Transport Officer at Boulogne let me come up as far as St +Omer (or rather the next waiting place beyond), on No.— A.T., and get +sent on by the R.T.O. there. We waited there all yesterday, lovely sunny +day, and in the evening the R.T.O. sent me on in a supply train which +was going to the railhead for No.— F.A. The officer in charge of it +was very kind, and turned out of his carriage for me into his servant's, +and apologised for not having cleared out every scrap of his belongings. +The Mess of No.— saw me off, with many farewell jokes and witticisms.</p> + +<p>This supply train brings up one day's rations to the 1st Corps from +Havre, and takes a week to do it there and back. This happens daily for +one corps alone, so you can imagine the work of the A.S.C. at Havre. At +railhead he is no longer responsible for his stuff when the lorries +arrive and take up their positions end on with the trucks. They unload +and check it, and it is done in four hours. That part of it is now going +on.</p> + +<p>When we got to railhead at 10.15 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> the R.T.O. said it was +too late to communicate with the Field Ambulance, and so I slept +peacefully in the officer's bunk with my own rugs and cushion. We had +tea about 9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> I had had dinner on No.—.</p> + +<p>This morning the first thing I saw was No.— A.T. slumbering in the sun +on the opposite line, so I might just as well have come up in her, +except that there was another Sister in my bed.</p> + +<p>After a sketchy wash in the supply train, and a cup of early tea from +the officer's servant, I packed up and went across to No.— for +breakfast; many jeers at my having got the sack so soon.</p> + +<p>The R.T.O. has just been along to say that Major —— of No.— Clearing +Hospital here will send me along in one of his motor ambulances.</p> + +<p>11 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Had an interesting drive here in the M.A. through a +village packed with men billeted in barns and empty houses—the usual +aeroplane buzzing overhead, and a large motor ambulance convoy by the +wayside.</p> + +<p>We are in the town itself, and the building is labelled No.— F.A. +Dressing Station for Officers. The men are in a French Civil Hospital +run very well by French nuns, and it has been decided to keep the French +and English nurses quite separate, so the only difference between the +two hospitals is that the one for the men has French Sisters, with +R.A.M.C. orderlies and M.O.'s, and the other for officers has English +Sisters, with R.A.M.C. orderlies and M.O.'s. There are forty-seven beds +here (all officers). One Army Sister in charge, myself next, and two +staff nurses—one on night duty. There are two floors; I shall have +charge of the top floor.</p> + +<p>We are billeted out, but I believe mess in the hospital.</p> + +<p>All this belongs to the French Red Cross, and is lent to us.</p> + +<p>The surgical outfit is much more primitive even than on the train, as +F.A.'s may carry so little. The operating theatre is at the other +hospital.</p> + +<p>As far as I can see at present we don't have the worst cases here, +except in a rush like Neuve Chapelle.</p> + +<p>It will be funny to sleep in a comfortable French bed in an ordinary +bedroom again. It will be rather like Le Mans over again, with a billet +to live in, and officers to look after, but I shall miss the Jocks and +the others.</p> + +<p><i>Later.</i>—Generals and "Red Hats" simply bristle around. A collection of +them has just been in visiting the sick officers. We had a big Good +Friday service at 11, and there is another at 6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> The Bishop +of London is coming round to-day.</p> + +<p><i>Still Good Friday</i>, 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Who said Active Service? I am +writing this in a wonderful mahogany bed, with a red satin quilt, in a +panelled room, with the sort of furniture drawing-rooms have on the +stage, and electric light, and medallions and bronzes, and oil-paintings +and old engravings, and blue china and mirrors all about. It is a huge +house like a Château, on the Place, where Generals and officers are +usually billeted. The fat and smiling caretaker says she's had two +hundred since the war. She insisted on pouring eau-de-Cologne into my +hot bath. It is really a lovely house, with polished floors and huge +tapestry pictures up the staircase. And all this well within range of +the German guns. After last night, in the A.S.C officer's kind but musty +little chilly second-class carriage, it is somewhat of a change. And I +hadn't had my clothes off for three days and two nights. This billet is +only for one night; to-morrow I expect I shall be in some grubby little +room near by. It has taken the Town Commandant, the O.C. of No.— F.A., +a French interpreter, and an R.H.A. officer and several N.C.O.'s and +orderlies, to find me a billet—the town is already packed tight, and +they have to continue the search to-morrow.</p> + +<p>This afternoon I went all over the big French hospital where our men +are. The French nuns were charming, and it was all very nice. The +women's ward is full of women and girls <i>blessées</i> by shells, some with +a leg off and fractured—all very cheerful.</p> + +<p>One shell the other day killed thirty-one and wounded twenty-seven—all +Indians.</p> + +<p>I am not to start work till to-morrow, as the wards are very light; +nearly all the officers up part of the day, so at 6 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> I went +to the Bishop of London's mission service in the theatre. A staff +officer on the steps told me to go to the left of the front row (where +all the red hats and gold hats sit), but I funked that and sat modestly +in the last row of officers. There were about a hundred officers there, +and a huge solid pack of men; no other woman at all. The Bishop, looking +very white and tired but very happy, took the service on the stage, +where a Padre was thumping the hymns on the harmonium (which shuts up +into a sort of matchbox). It was a voluntary service, and you know the +nearer they are to the firing line the more they go to church. It was +extraordinarily moving. The Padre read a sort of liturgy for the war +taken from the Russians, far finer than any of ours; we had printed +papers, and the response was "Lord, have mercy," or "Grant this, O +Lord." It came each time like bass clockwork.</p> + +<p>Troops are just marching by in the dark. Hundreds passed the hospital +this afternoon. I must go to sleep.</p> + +<p>The Bishop dashed in to see our sick officers here, and then motored +off to dine with the Quartermaster-General. He's had great services with +the cavalry and every other brigade.</p> + + +<p><i>Easter Eve</i>, 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Have been on duty all day till 5 +<span class="smcap">p.m.</span> They are nearly all "evacuated" in a few days, so you are +always getting a fresh lot in.</p> + +<p>Another Army Sister turned up to-day in a motor from Poperinghe to take +the place of the two who were originally here, who have now gone.</p> + +<p>At six this morning big guns were doing their Morning Hate very close to +us, but they have been quiet all day. Two days ago the village two and a +half miles south-east of us was shelled.</p> + +<p>I found my own new billet this morning before going on duty; it is in a +very old little house over a shop in a street off the big Place. It is a +sort of attic, and I am not dead sure whether it is clean on top and +lively underneath, but time will show. The shop lady and her daughter +Maria Thérèse are full of zeal and kindness to make me comfortable, but +they stayed two hours watching me unpack and making themselves +agreeable! And when I came in from dinner from the café, where we now +have our meals (quite decent), she and papa and M.T. drew up a chair for +me to <i>causer</i> in their parlour, to my horror.</p> + +<p>At 8 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> the town suddenly goes out like a candle; all lights +are put out and the street suddenly empty. After that, at intervals, +only motorcyclists buzz through and regiments tramp past going back to +billets. They sound more warlike than anything. Such a lot are going by +now.</p> + + +<p><i>Easter Sunday</i>, 3 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—The service at 7 this morning in the +theatre was rather wonderful. Rows of officers and packs of men.</p> + +<p>We have been busy in the ward all the morning. I'm off 2-5, and shall +soon go out and take E.'s chocolate Easter eggs to the men in the +hospice. The officers have any amount of cigarettes, chocs., novels, and +newspapers.</p> + +<p>A woman came and wept this morning with my billeter over their two sons, +who are prisoners, not receiving the parcels of <i>tabac</i> and <i>pain</i> and +<i>gateaux</i> that they send. They think we ought to starve the German +prisoners to death!</p> + +<p>This morning in the ward I suddenly found it full of Gold Hats and Red +Tabs; three Generals and their A.D.C.'s visiting the sick officers.</p> + + +<p><i>Easter Monday</i>.—It is a pouring wet day, and the mud is Flanderish. +Never was there such mud anywhere else. A gunner-major has just been +telling me you get a fine view of the German positions from the +Cathedral tower here, and can see shells bursting like the pictures in +'The Sphere.' He said his guns had the job of peppering La Bassée the +last time they shelled this place, and they gave it such a dusting that +this place has been let severely alone since. He thinks they'll have +another go at this when we begin to get hold of La Bassée, but the +latter is a very strong position. It begins to be "unhealthy" to get +into any of the villages about three miles from here, which are all +heaps of bricks now.</p> + +<p>I'm leaving my billet to-morrow, as they want us to be in one house. And +our house is the Maire's Château, the palatial one, so we shall live in +the lap of luxury as never before in this country! And have hot baths +with eau-de-Cologne every night, or cold every morning. And the woman is +going to faire our cuisine there for us, so we shan't have to wait hours +in the café for our meals. There is only one waiter at the café, who is +a beautiful, composed, wrapt, silent girl of 16, who will soon be dead +of overwork. She is not merely pretty, but beautiful, with the manners +of a princess!</p> + +<p>I shall be glad to get away from my too kind billeters; every night I +have to sit and <i>causer</i> before going to bed, and Ma-billeter watches me +in and out of bed, and tells me my nightgown is <i>très pratique</i>, and +just like the officers Anglais have. But she calls me with a lovely cup +of coffee in the morning. They've been so kind that I dread telling them +I've got to go.</p> + +<p>An officer was brought in during the night with a compound-fractured +arm. He stuck a very painful dressing like a brick to-day, and said to +me afterwards, "I've got three kids at home; they'll be awfully bucked +over this!" He had said it was "nothing to write home about."</p> + +<p>Another, who is chaffing everybody all day long, was awfully impressed +because a man in his company—I mean platoon—who had half his leg blown +off, said when they came to pick him up, "Never mind me—take so-and-so +first"—"just like those chaps you read of in books, you know." It was +decided that he meant Sir Philip Sidney.</p> + +<p>Yesterday afternoon I had a lovely time taking round chocolate Easter +eggs to our wounded in the French hospital. The sweetest, merriest +<i>Ma-Sœur</i> took me round, and insisted on all the orderlies having one +too. They adore her, and stand up and salute when she comes into the +ward; and we had enough for the <i>jeunes filles</i> and the grannies in the +women's ward of <i>blessées</i>. They were a huge success. Those men get very +few treats. She also showed me the Maternity Ward.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, April 6th</i>, 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—I am writing in bed in my lovely +little room overlooking the garden, and facing some nice red roofs and +both the old Towers of the town (one dating from le temps des +Espagnols) in le Château, instead of in my attic in the narrow street +where you heard the tramp of the men who viennent des tranches in the +night. We had a lovely dinner, served by the fat and <i>très aimable</i> +Marie in a small, panelled dining-room, with old oak chairs and real +silver spoons (the first I've met since August). So don't waste any pity +for the hardships of War! And an officer with a temperature of 103° +explained that he'd been sleeping for sixteen days on damp sandbags +"among the dead Germans."</p> + +<p>Nothing coming in anywhere, but when it does begin we shall get them.</p> + +<p>The A.D.M.S. is going to arrange for us to go up with one of his motor +ambulances to one of the advance dressing stations where the first +communication trench begins! It is at the corner of a road called +"Harley Street," which he says is "too unhealthy," where I mayn't be +taken. Won't it be thrilling to see it all?</p> + +<p>Officers' "trench talk" is exactly like the men's, only in a different +language.</p> + +<p>It has been wet and windy again, so I did not explore when I was off +this afternoon, but did my unpacking and settling in here. With so many +moves I have got my belongings into a high state of mobilisation, and it +doesn't take long.</p> + +<p>Last night at the café, one of the despatch riders played Chopin, +Tchaikowsky, and Elgar like a professional. It was jolly. The officers +are awfully nice to do with on the whole.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, April 7th</i>. <i>In bed,</i> 10.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—It has been a +lovely day after last night's and yesterday's heavy rain. We are busy +all day admitting and evacuating officers. The lung one had to be got +ready in a hurry this morning, and Mr L. took him down specially to the +train.</p> + +<p>A very nice Brigade-Major came in, in the night, with a shell wound in +the shoulder. This morning a great jagged piece was dug out, with only a +local anæsthetic, and he stuck it like a brick, humming a tune when it +became unbearable and gripping on to my hand.</p> + +<p>I was off at 5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, and went to dig out Marie Thérèse from my +old billet, to come with me to Beuvry, the village about two and a half +miles away that was shelled last week; it is about half-way to the +trenches from here. It was a lovely sunsetty evening, and there was a +huge stretch of view, but it was not clear enough to make anything out +of the German line. She has a tante and a grandmère there, and has a +"<i>laisser-passer soigner une tante malade</i>" which she has to show to the +sentry at the bridge. I get through without. The tante is not at all +<i>malade</i>—she is a cheery old lady who met us on the road. M.T. pointed +me out all the shell holes. We met and passed an unending stream of +khaki, the men marching back from their four days in the trenches, +infant officers and all steadily trudging on with the same coating of +mud from head to foot, packs and rifles carried anyhow, and the Trench +Look, which can never be described, and which is grim to the last +degree. Each lot had a tail of limping stragglers in ones and twos and +threes. I talked to some of these, and they said they'd had a very +"rough" night last night—pouring rain—water up to their knees, and +standing to all night expecting an attack which didn't come off; but +some mines had been exploded meant for their trench, but luckily they +were ten yards out in their calculations, and they only got smothered +instead of blown to bits. And they were sticking all this while we were +snoring in our horrible, warm, soft beds only a few miles away. We went +on past some of the famous brick stacks through the funny little village +full of billets to the church, where le Salut was going on. We passed a +dressing station of No.— Field Ambulance. The grandmère had two +sergeants billeted with her who seemed pleased to have a friendly chat. +Some of the men I said good-night to were so surprised (not knowing our +grey coat and hat), I heard them say to each other "English!" Marie +Thérèse simply adores the <i>Anglais</i>—they are so <i>gais</i>, such <i>bon +courage</i>, they laugh always and sing—and they have "<i>beaucoup de +fiancées françaises pour passer le temps</i>!" She told me they had +yesterday a boy of eighteen who was always <i>triste</i>, but <i>bien poli</i>, +and he knows six languages and comes from the University of London. When +he left for the trenches he said, "<i>Je vais à la mort</i>," but he has +promised to come and see them on Saturday or Sunday, "<i>s'il n'est pas +mort, ou blessé</i>," she said, as an afterthought. Her own young man is <i>à +la Guerre</i>, and she is making her trousseau. They do beautiful +embroidery on linen.</p> + +<p>I was pretty tired when we got back at 8 o'clock, as it was a good +five-mile walk, part of the way on fiendish cobble-stones, and we are on +our feet all day at the Dressing Station. But I am very fit, and all the +better for the excellent fresh food we have here. No more tins of +anything, thank goodness!</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, April 8th.</i>—Talking of billets, a General and his Staff are +coming to this Château to-morrow and we three have got to turn out, +possibly to a house opposite on the same square, which is empty. We live +in terror of unknown Powers-that-Be suddenly sending us down. The C.O. +and every one here are very keen that we should be as comfortably +billeted as possible. He said to-day, "Later on you may get an awful +place to live in." Of course we are aiming at becoming quite +indispensable! If you can once get your Medical Officers to depend on +you for having everything they want at hand, and for making the patients +happy and contented, and the orderlies in good order, they soon get to +think they can't do without you.</p> + +<p>There are two nice tea-shops where all the officers of the 1st and 2nd +Divisions go and have tea.</p> + +<p>On Saturday morning they sent three hundred shells into Cuinchy, in +revenge for their trench blown up (see to-day's <i>Communiqué</i> from Sir +J.F.).</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, April 9th,</i> 10.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—An empty house was found for +us on the same square, left exactly as it was when the owners left when +the place was shelled. It was filthy from top to toe, but we have found +a girl called Gabrielle to be our servant, and she has made a good start +in the cleaning to-day. There are three bedrooms—mine is a funny little +one built out at the back, down three steps, with two windows +overlooking a corner of the square and our road past the hospital.</p> + +<p>It is my fourth billet here in a week, and Gabrielle and I have made it +quite habitable by collecting things from other parts of the house. We +are back in our own rugs and blankets again without sheets, and there is +no water on yet, but we filled our hot-water bottles at the hospital, +and are quite warm and cosy, and locked up—I shall have to let +Gabrielle in at 6.30 to-morrow morning. She is going to shop and cook +for us, with help from the kind Marie at the Château, who is aghast at +our present more military mode of living. The Château is now swarming +with Staff Officers, to whom Marie pays far less attention than she does +to us!</p> + +<p>When the wind is in the right direction you can hear the rifle firing as +well as the guns—and they are often shelling aeroplanes on a fine day. +We have two bad cases in to-night—one wounded in the lung, and one +medical transferred from downstairs, where the slight medicals are.</p> + +<p>A Captain of the ——, hit in the back this morning when he was crossing +in the open to visit a post in his trench, has a little freckled Jock +for his servant, who dashed out to bring him in when he fell. "Most +gallant, you know," he said. They adore each other. Jock stands to +attention, salutes, and says "Yes'm" when I gave him an order. Their +friends troop in to see them as soon as they hear they're hit. So many +seem to have been wounded before—nearly all, in fact.</p> + +<p>Letters are coming in very irregularly, I don't quite know why.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, April 10th</i>, 10.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—It is difficult to settle +down to sleep to-night: the sky is lit up with flashes and star-shells, +and every now and then a big bang shakes the house, above the almost +continuous thud, thudding, and the barking of the machine-guns and the +crackling of rifle firing; they are bringing in more to-day, both here +and at the Hospice, and we are tired enough to go to sleep as if we were +at home; I shouldn't wonder if the Night Sister had a busy night.</p> + +<p>We had to rig up our day-room for an operation this evening—they have +always taken them over to the Hospice, where they have a very swanky +modern theatre.</p> + +<p>We couldn't manage to get any food to-day for Gabrielle to cook for us, +as our rations hadn't come up, so we went back to the café. She has been +busy nettoying all day, and the house feels much cleaner.</p> + +<p>The dead silence, darkness, and emptiness of the streets after 8 o'clock +are very striking.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, April 11th.</i>—This afternoon they shelled Beuvry (the village I +went to with Marie Thérèse on Wednesday) and wounded eleven women and +children; the advanced dressing station of No.— F.A. took them in. The +promise to send us in one of the M.A.'s to "Harley Street" (the name of +the first communication trench) has been taken back until things quiet +down a little. There was an air battle just above us this evening,—a +Taube sailing serenely along not very high, and not altering her course +or going up one foot, for all the shells that promptly peppered the sky +all round her. You hear a particular kind of bang and then gaze at the +Taube; suddenly a shining ball of white smoke appears close to her, and +uncurls itself in the sun against the blue of the sky. As it begins to +uncurl you hear the explosion, and however much you admire the German's +pluck, and hope he'll dodge them safely, you can't help hoping also that +the next one will get him and that he'll come crashing down. Isn't it +beastly? It was so near that the French were calling out excitedly, +"<i>Touché! Il descend</i>," but he got away all right.</p> + +<p>Another officer dangerously wounded was transferred to my ward to-day +from the French hospital. He was feebly grappling with a Sevenpenny +which he could neither hold nor read. "Anything to take my thoughts off +that beastly war!" he said.</p> + +<p>A small parcel of socks, cigs., and chocs, came to-day. Soon after, I +found the road below was covered with exhausted trench stragglers +resting on the kerb, the very men for the parcel. They had all that and +one mouth-organ—wasn't it lucky? One Jock said, "That's the first time +I've heard a woman speak English since I left Southampton six months +ago!"</p> + +<p>Gabrielle cooked a very nice supper for us to-night—which I dished up +when we came in. It is much more fun camping out in our own little empty +house than in the grand Château—but I didn't have time to look at +nearly all the lovely engravings there.</p> + +<p>Streams of columns have been passing all day; one gun-team had to turn +back because one of the off horses jibbed and refused to go any farther.</p> + +<p>Though it is past 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> the sounds outside are too +interesting to go to sleep; the bangs are getting louder; those who +<i>viennent des tranches</i> are tramping down and transport waggons rattling +up!</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, April 12th</i>.—No mail to-day. This has been a very quiet day, +fewer columns, aeroplanes, and guns, and the three bad officers holding +their own so far. The others come and go.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, April 13th</i>.—There is something quite fiendish about the +crackling of the rifle firing to-night, and every now and then a gun +like "Mother" speaks and shakes the town. Last night it was quite +quiet. All leave has been stopped to-day, and there are the wildest +rumours going about of a big naval engagement, the forcing of the +Narrows, and the surrender of St Mihiel, and anything else you like!</p> + +<p>These Medical Officers have always hung on to the most hopeless, both +here and at the Hospice, beyond the last hope, and when they pull +through there is great rejoicing.</p> + +<p>It doesn't seem somehow the right thing to do, to undress and get into +bed with these crashes going on, but I suppose staying up won't stop it!</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, April 14th.</i>—Very quiet day; it always is after exciting +rumours which come to nothing! But it has been noisier than usual in the +daytime. I rested in my off-time and didn't go out.</p> + +<p>The Victoria League sent some awfully nice lavender bags to-day, and +some tins of Keating's, which will be of future use, I expect. Just now, +one is mercifully and strangely free from the Minor Scourges of War.</p> + +<p>The German trenches captured at Neuve Chapelle, and now occupied by us, +are full of legs and arms, which emerge when you dig. Some are still +caught on the barbed wire and can't be taken away.</p> + +<p>We are not being at all clever with our rations just now, and manage to +have indescribably nasty and uneatable meals! But we shall get it better +in time, by taking a little more trouble over it.</p> + +<p>We had scrambled eggs to-night, which I made standing on a chair, +because the gas-ring is so high, and Sister holding up a very small dim +oil-lamp. But they were a great success. And then we had soup with fried +potatoes in it! and tea.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, April 15th.</i>—This afternoon has been a day to remember. +We've had our journey up to the firing line, to a dressing station just +over half a mile from the first line of German trenches! It is between +the two villages of Givenchy and Cuinchy, this side of La Bassée. The +journey there was through the village I walked to with Marie Thérèse +(which has been shelled twice since we came), and along the long, wide, +straight road the British Army now knows so well—paved in the middle +and a straight line of poplars on each side. As far as you could see it +was covered with two streams of khaki, with an occasional string of +French cavalry—one stream going up to the trenches after their so many +days' "rest," and the other coming from the trenches to their "rest." We +soon got up to some old German trenches from which we drove them months +ago; they run parallel with the road. On the other side we saw one of +our own Field Batteries, hidden in the scrub of a hedge—not talking at +the moment. There were also some French batteries hidden behind an +embankment. "The German guns are trained always on this road," said our +A.S.C. driver cheerfully, "but they don't generally begin not till about +4 o'clock," so, as it was then 2.30, we weren't alarmed. They know it is +used for transport and troops and often send a few shells on to it. We +sat next him and he did showman. Before long we got into the area of +ruined houses—and they are a sight! They spell War, and War +only—nothing else (but perhaps an earthquake?) could make such awful +desolation; in a few of the smaller cottages with a roof on, the +families had gone back to live in a sort of patched-up squalor, but all +the bigger houses and parts of streets were mere jagged shells. The two +villages converge just where we turned a corner from the La Bassée road +into a lane on our left where the dressing station is. A little farther +on is "Windy Corner," which is "a very hot place." We had before this +passed some of our own reserve unoccupied trenches, some with sandbags +for parapets, but now we suddenly found ourselves with a funny barricade +of different coloured and shaped doors, taken from the ruined houses, +about 8 feet high on our right. This was to prevent the German snipers +from seeing our transport or M.A.'s pass down that lane to the +communication trench, which has its beginning at the ruined house which +is used by the F.A. as one of its advanced dressing stations. It is +called No. 1 Harley Street. Here we got out, and the first person we saw +was Sergt. P., who was theatre orderly in No. 7 at Pretoria. He greeted +us warmly and took us to Capt. R., who was the officer in charge. He +also was most awfully kind and showed us all over his place. We went +first into his two cellars, where the wounded are taken to be dressed, +instead of above, where they might be shelled. They had a queer +collection of furniture—a table for dressings, and some oddments of +chairs, including two carved oak dining-room chairs. Round the front +steps is a barricade of sandbags against snipers' bullets. The officer's +room above the cellars was quite nice and tidy, furnished from the +ruined houses, and with a vase of daffodils! He had been told the day +before to allow no one up the staircase, because snipers were on the +look-out for the top windows, and if it were seen to be used as an +observing station it might draw the shells. However, just before we left +he changed his mind and took us up and showed us all the landmarks, +including the famous brick-stacks, where there must be many German +graves, but we all had to be very careful not to show ourselves. The +garden at the back has a row of graves with flowers growing on them, +and neat wooden crosses with little engraved tin plates on, with the +name and regiment. One was, "An unknown British Soldier." There were no +wounded in the D.S. this afternoon.</p> + +<p>The orderlies showed us lots of interesting bits of German shells and +time fuses, &c. The house was full of big holes, with dirty smart +curtains, and hats and mirrors lying about the floors upstairs among the +brickwork and ruins.</p> + +<p>They then took us a little way down the communication trench called +"Hertford Street," under the "Marble Arch" to "Oxford Circus!" It is +quite dry mud over bricks and very narrow, and goes higher than your +head on the enemy side, and has zigzags very often. You can only go +single file, and we had to wait in a zigzag to let a lot of men go +by—they stream past almost continually. One officer invited us to come +and see his dug-out, but it was farther along than we might go without +being awfully in the way. We had before this given one stream of ingoing +men all the cigarettes, chocolates, writing-paper, mouth-organs, +Keating's, pencils, and newspapers we could lay hands on before we +started, and we could have done with thousands of each. Every few +minutes one of our guns talked with a startlingly loud noise somewhere +near, but Captain R. said it was an exceptionally quiet day, and we +didn't hear a single German gun or see any bursting shells. It was a +particularly warm sunny day, and the men going into the trenches were so +cheerful and jolly that it didn't seem at all tragic or depressing, and +there was nothing but one's recollections of the Aisne and Ypres after +what they call "a show" to remind one what it all meant and what it +might at any moment turn into. One hasn't had before the opportunities +of seeing the men who are in it (and not at the Bases or on the Lines of +Communication) while they are fit, but only after they are wounded or +sick, and the contrast is very striking. All these after their "rest" +look fit and sunburnt and natural, and the one expression that never or +rarely fails, whether fit, wounded, or sick, is the expression of +acquiescence and going through with it that they all have. If it failed +at all it was with the men with frost-bite and trench feet, who stuck it +so long when winter first came on before they got the braziers, and in +the long rains when they stood in mud and water to their waists. Now, +thank Heaven, the ground is hard again.</p> + +<p>I saw three small children playing about just behind the dressing +station, where some men unloading a lorry were killed a few days ago. +The women and children are all along the road, absolutely regardless of +danger as long as they are allowed to stay in their own homes. The +babies sit close up against the Tommies who are resting by the roadside.</p> + +<p>We saw a great many wire entanglements, so thick that they look like a +field of lavender a little way off. From the top windows of the ruined +house we could see long lines of heads, picks and shovels, going single +file down "Hertford Street," but they couldn't be seen from the enemy +side because of the parapet.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, April 16th.</i>—At about 7.30 this evening I was writing the day +report when the sergeant came in with three candles and said an order +had come for all lights to be put out and only candles used. So I had to +put out all the lights and give the astonished officers my three candles +between them, while the sergeant went out to get some more. The town +looks very weird with all the street lamps out and only glimmers from +the windows. It was kept pretty darkened before. It may be because of +the Zeppelin at Bailleul on Wednesday, or another may be reported +somewhere about.</p> + +<p>This afternoon I saw a soldier's funeral, which I have never seen +before. He was shot in the head yesterday, and makes the four hundred +and eleventh British soldier buried in this cemetery. I happened to be +there looking at the graves, and the French gravedigger told me there +was to be another buried this afternoon. The gravedigger's wife and +children are with the Allemands, he told me, the other side of La +Bassée, and he has no news of them or they of him.</p> + +<p>It was very impressive and moving, the Union Jack on the coffin (a thin +wooden box) on the waggon, and a firing party, and about a hundred men +and three officers and the Padre. It was a clear blue sky and sunny +afternoon, and the Padre read beautifully and the men listened intently. +The graves are dug trenchwise, very close together, practically all in +one continuous grave, each with a marked cross. There is a long row of +officers, and also seven Germans and five Indians.</p> + +<p>The two Zeppelins reported last night must have gone to bed after +putting out all our lights, as nothing happened anywhere.</p> + +<p>The birds and buds in the garden opposite make one long for one's lost +leave, but I suppose they will keep.</p> + +<p>We have only nine officers in to-day; everything is very quiet +everywhere, but troop trains are very busy.</p> + +<p>10.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—It is getting noisy again. Some batteries on our +right next the French lines are doing some thundering, and there are +more star-shells than usual lighting up the sky on the left. They look +like fireworks. They are sent up <i>in</i> the firing line to see if any +groups of enemy are crawling up to our trenches in the dark. When they +stop sending theirs up we have to get busy with ours to see what they're +up to. It's funny to see that every night from your bedroom windows. +They give a tremendous light as soon as they burst.</p> + +<p>When I went into the big church for benediction this evening at 6.30, +every estaminet and café and tea-shop was packed with soldiers, and also +as usual every street and square. At seven o'clock they were all +emptying, as there is an order to-day to close all cafés, &c., at seven +instead of eight.</p> + +<p>All lights are out again to-night.</p> + +<p>Another aeroplane was being shelled here this evening.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, April 18th</i>, 9.30 <span class="smcap">p.m</span>.—It has been another dazzling +day. A major of one of the Indian regiments came in this evening. He +said the Boches are throwing stones across to our men wrapped in paper +with messages like this written on them, "Why don't you stop the War? We +want to get home to our wives these beautiful days, and so do you, so +why do you go on fighting?" The sudden beauty of the spring and the sun +has made it all glaringly incongruous, and every one feels it.</p> + +<p>One badly wounded officer got it going out of his dug-out to attend to a +man of his company who was hit by a sniper in an exposed place, one of +his subalterns told me. His own account, of course, was a rambling story +leaving that part entirely out.</p> + +<p>This next shows how the Germans had left nothing to chance. They have +about twelve machine-guns to every battalion, and are said to have had +12,000 when the War began. Passing through villages they pack ten of +them into an innocent-looking cart with a false bottom. We captured some +of these empty carts, and some time afterwards found them full of +machine-guns!</p> + +<p>Gold hats and red hats have been dropping in all day. They do on Sundays +especially after Church Parade.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, April 24th.</i>—We were watching hundreds of men pass by +to-day, whistling and singing, on their way to the trenches.</p> + +<p>News came to us this morning of the Germans having broken through the +trench lines north of Ypres and shelled Poperinghe, which was out of +range up to now, but it is not official.</p> + +<p>The guns are very loud to-night; I hope they're keeping the Germans +busy; something is sure to be done to draw them off the Ypres line.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, April 25th.</i>—The plum-pudding was "something to write home +about!" and the Quartermaster sent us a tin of honey to-day, the first +I've seen for nine months.</p> + +<p>A General came round this morning. He said the Canadians and another +regiment had given the Germans what for for this gas-fumes business +north of Ypres, got the ground back and recovered the four guns. The +beasts of Germans laid out a whole trench full of Zouaves with chlorine +gas (which besides being poisonous is one of the most loathsome smells). +Of course every one is busy finding out how we can go one better now. +But this afternoon the medical staffs of both these divisions have been +trying experiments in a barn with chlorine gas, with and without +different kinds of masks soaked with some antidote, such as lime. All +were busy coughing and choking when they found the A.D.M.S. of the —— +Division getting blue and suffocated; he'd had too much chlorine, and +was brought here, looking very bad, and for an hour we had to give him +fumes of ammonia till he could breathe properly. He will probably have +bronchitis. But they've found out what they wanted to know—that you can +go to the assistance of men overpowered by the gas, if you put on this +mask, with less chance of finding yourself dead too when you got there. +They don't lose much time finding these things out, do they?</p> + +<p>On Saturday I shall be going on night duty for a month.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, April 26th,</i> 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—We have been admitting, cutting +the clothes off, dressing, and evacuating a good many to-day, and I +think they are still coming in.</p> + +<p>There is a great noise going on to-night, snapping and popping, and +crackling of rifle firing and machine-guns, with the sudden roar of our +9.2's every few minutes. The thundery roll after them is made by the big +shell bounding along on its way.</p> + +<p>Two officers were brought in last night from a sap where they were +overpowered by carbon monoxide. Three of them and a sergeant crawled +along it to get out the bodies of another officer and a sergeant who'd +been killed there by an explosion the day before; it leads into a crater +in the German lines, and reaches under the German trenches, which we +intended to blow up. But they were greeted by this poisonous gas last +night, and the officer in front of these two suddenly became inanimate; +each tried to pull the one in front out by the legs, but all became +unconscious in turn, and only these two survived and were hauled out up +twenty feet of rope-ladder. They will get all right.</p> + +<p>The wounded ones are generally in "the excited stage" when they +arrive—some surprised and resentful, some relieved that it is no worse, +and some very quiet and collapsed.</p> + +<p>Captain —— showed me his periscope to-day; you bob down and look into +it about level with his mattress, and then you see a picture of the +garden across the road. He has seen one made by Ross with a magnifying +lens in it so good that you can see the moustaches of the Boches in it +from the bottom of your trench. The noise is getting so beastly I must +knock off and read 'Punch.'</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, April 27th.</i>—Have been busy all day, and so have the guns. +When the 15-inch howitzers began to talk the old concierge lady at the +O.D.S. trotted out to see <i>l'orage</i>, and found a cloudless sky, and, +<i>mon Dieu</i>, it was <i>les canons</i>. It is a stupendous noise, like some +gigantic angry lion. The official accounts of the second dash for Calais +reach us through 'The Times' two days after the things have happened, +but the actual happenings filter along the line from St Omer (G.H.Q.) as +soon as they happen, so we know there's been no real "breaking through" +that hasn't been made good, or partially made good, because if there +had, the dispositions all along the line would have had to be altered, +and that has not happened.</p> + +<p>The ambulance trains are collecting the Ypres casualties straight from +the convoys at Poperinghe, as we did at Ypres in October and November, +and not through the Clearing Hospitals, which I believe have had to move +farther back.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, April 28th.</i>—Here everything is as it has been for the last +few days (except the weather, which is suddenly hot as summer), rather +more casualties, but no rush, and the same crescendo of heavy guns. Some +shells were dropped in a field just outside the town at 8.30 yesterday +evening but did no damage.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, April 29th,</i> 4 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—The weather and the evenings +are indescribably incongruous. Tea in the garden at home, deck-chairs, +and Sweep under the walnut-tree come into one's mind, and before one's +eyes and ears are motor ambulances and stretchers and dressings, and the +everlasting noise of marching feet, clattering hoofs, lorries, and guns, +and sometimes the skirl of the pipes. One day there was a real band, and +every one glowed and thrilled with the sound of it.</p> + +<p>I strayed into a concert at 5.30 this evening, given by the Glasgow +Highlanders to a packed houseful of men and officers. I took good care +to be shown into a solitary box next the stage, as I was alone and +guessed that some of the items would not be intended for polite female +ears. The level of the talent was a high one, some good part songs, and +two real singers, and some quite funny and clever comic; but one or two +things made me glad of the shelter of my box. The choruses were fine. +The last thing was a brilliant effort of the four part singers dressed +as comic sailors, which simply made the house rock. Then suddenly, while +they were still yelling, the first chords of the "King" were played, and +all the hundreds stood to attention in a pin-drop silence while it was +played—not sung—much more impressive than the singing of it, I +thought.</p> + +<p>We have had some bad cases in to-day, and the boy with the lung is not +doing so well.</p> + +<p>My second inoculation passed off very quickly, and I have not been off +duty for it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X.</h2> + +<h4>With No.— Field Ambulance (2)</h4> + +<h5>FESTUBERT, <span class="smcap">May 9 and May 16</span></h5> + +<p class="center"><i>May 6, 1915, to May 26, 1915</i></p> + +<p class="indented"> +"We have built a house that is not for Time's throwing;<br /> +We have gained a peace unshaken by pain for ever.<br /> +War knows no power. Safe shall be my going,<br /> +Secretly armed against all death's endeavour.<br /> +Safe though all safety's lost; safe where men fall;<br /> +And if these poor limbs die, safest of all."<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;" class="smcap" >—Rupert Brooke.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>X.</h2> + +<h4>With No.— Field Ambulance (2).</h4> + +<h5>FESTUBERT, <span class="smcap">May 9 and May 16.</span></h5> + +<p class="center"><i>May</i> 6, 1915, <i>to May</i> 26, 1915.</p> + + +<p>The noise of war—Preparation—Sunday, May 9—The barge—The officers' +dressing station—Charge of the Black Watch, May 9—Festubert, May +16—The French Hospital—A bad night—Shelled out—Back at a Clearing +Hospital—"For duty at a Base Hospital."</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, May 6th</i>, 3 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—It was a very noisy day, and I +didn't sleep after 2 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> There is a good lot of firing going +on to-night.</p> + +<p>A very muddy officer of 6 ft. 4 was brought in early yesterday morning +with a broken leg, and it is a hard job to get him comfortable in these +short beds.</p> + +<p>Yesterday at 4 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> I couldn't resist invading the garden +opposite which is the R.A. Headquarters. It is full of lovely trees and +flowers and birds. I found a blackbird's nest with one egg in. From the +upper windows of this place it makes a perfect picture, with the +peculiarly beautiful tower of the Cathedral as a background.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, May 7th</i>, 1 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—The noise is worse than anywhere in +London, even the King's Road. The din that a column of horse-drawn, +bolt-rattling waggons make over cobbles is literally deafening; you +can't hear each other speak. And the big motor-lorries taking the +"munitions of war" up are almost as bad. These processions alternate +with marching troops, clattering horses, and French engines all day, and +very often all night, and in the middle of it all there are the guns. +Tonight the rifle firing is crackling.</p> + +<p>Sir John French and Sir Douglas Haig have been up here to-day, and every +one is telling every one else when the great Attack is going to begin.</p> + +<p>There are three field ambulances up here, and only work for two ( —th +and —th), so the —th is established in a huge school for 500 boys, +where it runs a great laundry and bathing establishment. A thousand men +a day come in for bath, disinfection, and clean clothes; 100 French +women do the laundry work in huge tubs, and there are big disinfectors +and drying and ironing rooms. The men of the F.A. do the sorting and all +the work except the washing and ironing. And the beautifully-cared-for +English cart-horses that belong to the F.A., and the waggons and the +motor ambulances and the equipment, are all kept ready to move at a +moment's notice.</p> + +<p>Colonel —— showed me all over it this evening. It is done at a cost to +the Government of 7d. per man, washed and clothed.</p> + +<p>My blackbird has laid another egg.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, May 7th</i>, 10 <span class="smcap">p.m</span>.—A pitch-dark night, raining a +little, and only one topic—the Attack to-morrow morning.</p> + +<p>The first R.A.M.C. barge has come up, and is lying in the canal ready to +take on the cases of wounds of lung and abdomen, to save the jolting of +road and railway; it is to have two Sisters, but I haven't seen them +yet: shall go in the morning: went round this morning to see, but the +barge hadn't arrived.</p> + +<p>There are a few sick officers downstairs who are finding it hard to +stick in their beds, with their regiments in this job close by. There is +a house close by which I saw this morning with a dirty little red flag +with a black cross on it, where the C.-in-C. and thirty commanders of +the 1st Army met yesterday.</p> + +<p>The news to-day of Hill 60 and the gases is another spur to the grim +resolve to break through here, that can be felt and seen and heard in +every detail of every arm. "Grandmother" is lovingly talked about.</p> + +<p>The town, the roads, and the canal banks this morning were so packed +with men, waggons, horses, bales, and lorries, that you could barely +pick your way between them.</p> + +<p>Since writing this an aeroplane has been circling over us with a loud +buzz. The sergeant called up to me to put the lights out. We saw her +light. There is much speculation as to who and what she was; she was not +big enough for our big "'Bus," as she is called, who belongs to this +place. No one seems ever to have seen one here at night before.</p> + +<p>We are making flannel masks for the C.O. for our men.</p> + +<p>Our fat little Gabrielle makes the most priceless soup out of the ration +beef (which none of us are any good at) and carrots. She mothers us each +individually, and cleans the house and keeps her wee kitchen spotless.</p> + +<p>4 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—The 9.2's are just beginning to talk.</p> + +<p>Here is a true story. One of our trenches at Givenchy was being pounded +by German shells at the time of N. Ch. A man saw his brother killed on +one side of him and another man on the other. He went on shooting over +the parapet; then the parapet got knocked about, and still he wasn't +hit. He seized his brother's body and the other man's and built them up +into the parapet with sandbags, and went on shooting.</p> + +<p>When the stress was over and he could leave off, he looked round and saw +what he was leaning against. "Who did that?" he said. And they told him.</p> + +<p>They get awfully sick at the big-print headlines in some of the +papers—"The Hill 60 Thrill"!</p> + +<p>"Thrill, indeed! There's nothing thrilling about ploughing over parapets +into a machine-gun, with high explosives bursting round you,—it's +merely beastly," said a boy this evening, who is all over shrapnel +splinters.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, May 8th,</i> 9 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—This is Der Tag. Could anybody go +to bed and undress?</p> + +<p>I have been cutting dressings all night. One of the most stabbing things +in this war is seeing the lines of empty motor ambulances going up to +bring down the wrecks who at this moment are sound and fit, and all +absolutely ready to be turned into wrecks.</p> + +<p>10.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Der Tag was a wash-out, but it is to begin at 1.15 +to-night. (It didn't!)</p> + +<p>The tension is more up than ever. A boy who has just come in with a +poisoned heel (broken-hearted because he is out of it, while his +battalion moves up) says, "You'll be having them in in cartloads over +this."</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday, May 9th</i>, 1.30 <span class="smcap">a.m</span>.—The Lions are roaring in full +blast and lighting up the sky.</p> + +<p>Have been busy to-night with an operation case who is needing a lot of +special nursing, and some admissions—one in at 11 <span class="smcap">p.m</span>., who +was only wounded at 9 o'clock. I hope these magnificent roars and +rumblings are making a mess of the barbed wire and German trenches. +There seems to be a pretty general opinion that they will retaliate by +dropping them into this place if they have time, and pulverising it like +Ypres.</p> + +<p>5.25 <span class="smcap">a.m</span>.—It has begun. It is awful—continuous and +earthquaking.</p> + +<p>9.30 <span class="smcap">a.m</span>.—In bed. The last ten minutes of "Rapid" did its +damnedest and then began again, and we are still thundering hell into +the German lines.</p> + +<p>It began before 5 with a fearful pounding from the French on our right, +and hasn't left off since.</p> + +<p>Had a busy night with my operation case and the others (he is doing +fine), and in every spare second getting ready for the rush. The M.O.'s +were astir very early; the A.D.M.S. came to count empty beds. It is +to-night they'll be coming in.</p> + +<p>Must try and sleep. But who could yesterday and to-day?</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, May 10th</i>, 9.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—We have had a night of it. Every +Field Ambulance, barge, Clearing Hospital, and train are blocked with +them. The M.O.'s neither eat nor sleep. I got up early yesterday and +went down to the barge to see if they wanted any extra help (as the +other two were coping with the wounded officers), and had a grim +afternoon and evening there. One M.O., no Sisters, four trained +orderlies, and some other men were there. It was packed with all the +worst cases—dying and bleeding and groaning. After five hours we had +three-fourths of them out of their blood-soaked clothes, dressed, fed, +hæmorrhage stopped, hands and faces washed, and some asleep. Two died, +and more were dying. They all worked like bricks. The M.O., and another +from the other barge which hadn't filled up, sent up to the O.D.S., when +my hour for night duty there came, to ask if I could stay, and got +leave. At 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> four Sisters arrived (I don't know how—they'd +been wired for), two for each barge; so I handed over to them and went to +the O.D.S. to relieve the other two there for night duty. The place was +unrecognisable: every corner of every floor filled with wounded +officers—some sitting up and some all over wounds, and three dying and +others critical; and they still kept coming in. They were all awfully good +strewing about the floor—some soaked to the skin from wet shell holes—on +their stretchers, waiting to be put to bed.</p> + +<p>One had had "such a jolly Sunday afternoon" lying in a shell hole with +six inches of water in it and a dead man, digging himself in deeper with +his trench tool whenever the shells burst near him. He was hit in the +stomach.</p> + +<p>One officer saw the enemy through a periscope sniping at our wounded.</p> + +<p>4 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—In bed. It seems quiet to-day; there are so few guns to +be heard, and not so many ambulances coming. All except the hopeless +cases will have been evacuated by now from all the Field Hospitals. +There was a block last night, and none could be sent on. The Clearing +Hospitals were full, and no trains in.</p> + +<p>Those four Sisters from the base had a weird arrival at the barge last +night in a car at 11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> It was a black dark night, big guns +going, and a sudden descent down a ladder into that Nelson's cockpit. +They were awfully bucked when we said, "Oh, I am glad you have come." +They buckled to and set to work right off. The cook, who had been +helping magnificently in the ward, was running after me with hot cocoa +(breakfast was my last meal, except a cup of tea), and promised to give +them some. One wounded of the Munsters there said he didn't mind nothink +now,—he'd seen so many dead Germans as he never thought on. As always, +they have lost thousands, but they come on like ants.</p> + +<p>They have only had about seven new cases to-day at the O.D.S., but two +of last night's have died. A Padre was with them.</p> + +<p>They had no market this morning, for fear of bombs from aeroplanes. +There's been no shelling into the town.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, May 11th</i>, 6.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—In bed. I went to bed pretty +tired this morning after an awful night (only a few of the less +seriously wounded had been evacuated yesterday, and all the worst ones, +of course, left), and slept like a top from 10.30 to 5, and feel as fit +as anything after it.</p> + +<p>The fighting seems to have stopped now, and no more have come in to-day. +Last night a stiff muddy figure, all bandages and straw, on the +stretcher was brought in. I asked the boy how many wounds? "Oh, only +five," he said cheerfully. "Nice clean wounds,—machine-gun,—all in and +out again!"</p> + +<p>The Padre came at 7.30 and had a Celebration in each ward, but I was +too busy to take any notice of it.</p> + +<p>One of these officers was hit by a German shell on Sunday morning early, +soon after our bombardment began. He crawled about till he was hit again +twice by other shells, and then lay there all that day and all that +night, with one drink from another wounded's water-bottle; every one +else was either dead or wounded round him. Next morning his servant +found him and got stretcher-bearers, and he got here.</p> + +<p>I don't know how they live through that.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, May 12th</i>, 6.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Slept very well. I hear from +Gabrielle that they have had a hard day at the O.D.S.; no new cases, but +all the bad ones very ill.</p> + +<p>My little room is crammed with enormous lilac, white and purple, from +our wee garden, which I am going to take to our graves to-morrow in jam +tins.</p> + + +<p><i>Thursday, May 13th</i>, 11 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Can't face the graves to-day; +have had an awful night; three died during the night. I found the boy +who brought his officer in from between the German line and ours, on +Sunday night, crying this morning over the still figure under a brown +blanket on a stretcher.</p> + +<p>Of the other two, brought straight in from the other dressing station, +one only lived long enough to be put to bed, and the other died on his +stretcher in the hall.</p> + +<p>The O.C. said last night, "Now this War has come we've got to tackle it +with our gloves off," but it takes some tackling. It seems so much +nearer, and more murderous somehow in this Field Ambulance atmosphere +even than it did on the train with all the successive hundreds.</p> + +<p>We can see Notre Dame de Lorette from here; the Chapel and Fort stand +high up in that flat maze of slag-heaps, mine-heads, and sugar-factories +just behind the line on the right.</p> + +<p>9 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, <i>O.D.S.</i>—Everything very quiet here.</p> + +<p>A gunner just admitted says there will probably be another big +bombardment to-morrow morning, and after that another attack, and after +that I suppose some more for us.</p> + +<p>Another says that the charge of the Black Watch on Sunday was a +marvellous thing. They went into it playing the pipes! The Major who led +it handed somebody his stick, as he "probably shouldn't want it again."</p> + +<p>It is very wet to-night, but they go up to the trenches singing Ragtime, +some song about "We are always—respected—wherever we go." And another +about "Sing a song—a song with me. Come along—along with me."</p> + +<p>11 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Just heard a shell burst, first the whistling scream, +and then the bang—wonder where? There was another about an hour ago, +but I didn't hear the whistle of that—only the bang. I shouldn't have +known what the whistle was if I hadn't heard it at Braisne. It goes in a +curve. All the men on the top floor have been sent down to sleep in the +cellar; another shell has busted.</p> + +<p>12.15.—Just had another, right overhead; all the patients are asleep, +luckily.</p> + +<p>1.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—There was one more, near enough to make you jump, +and a few more too far off to hear the whistling. A sleepy major has +just waked up and said, "Did you hear the shells? Blackguards, aren't +they?"</p> + +<p>The sky on the battle line to-night is the weirdest sight; our guns are +very busy, and they are making yellow flashes like huge sheets of summer +lightning. Then the star-shells rise, burst, and light up a large area, +while a big searchlight plays slowly on the clouds. It is all very +beautiful when you don't think what it means.</p> + +<p>Two more—the last very loud and close. It is somehow much more alarming +than Braisne, perhaps because it is among buildings, and because one +knows so much more what they mean.</p> + +<p>Another—the other side of the building.</p> + +<p>An ambulance has been called out, so some one must have been hit; I've +lost count of how many they've dropped, but they could hardly fail to do +some damage.</p> + +<p>5 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Daylight—soaking wet, and no more shells since 2 +<span class="smcap">a.m.</span> We have admitted seven officers to-night; the last—just +in—says there have been five people wounded in the town by this +peppering—one killed. I don't know if civilians or soldiers.</p> + +<p>That bombardment on Sunday morning was the biggest any one has ever +heard,—more guns on smaller space, and more shells per minute.</p> + +<p>Nine officers have "died of wounds" here since Sunday, and the tenth +will not live to see daylight. There is an attack on to-night. This has +been a ghastly week, and now it is beginning again.</p> + +<p>The other two Sisters had quite a nasty time last night lying in bed, +waiting for the shells to burst in their rooms. They do sound exactly as +if they are coming your way and nowhere else!</p> + +<p>I rather think they are dropping some in again to-night, but they are +not close enough to hear the whistle, only the bangs.</p> + +<p>There is an officer in to-night with a wound in the hand and shoulder +from a shell which killed eleven of his men, and another who went to +see four of his platoon in a house at the exact moment when a percussion +shell went on the same errand; the whole house sat down, and the five +were wounded—none killed.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, May 15th</i>, 10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Tension up again like last +Saturday. Another TAG is happening to-morrow. Every one except three +sick downstairs has been evacuated, and they have made accommodation for +1000 at the French Hospital, which is the 4th F.A. main dressing +station, and headquarters. All officers, whether seriously or slightly +wounded, are to be taken there to be dressed by the M.O.'s in the +specially-arranged dressing-rooms, and then sent on to us to be put to +bed and coped with.</p> + +<p>Now we have got some French batteries of 75's in our lines to pound the +earthworks which protect the enemy's buried machine-guns, which are the +most murderous and deadly of all their clever arrangements, and to stop +up the holes through which they are fired. We have also got more +Divisions in it along the same front, and our heavy guns and all our +batteries in better positions.</p> + +<p>Some more regiments have been called up in a hurry, and empty +ammunition-carts are galloping back already.</p> + +<p>This morning I took some white lilac to the graves of our 12 officers +who "died of wounds." Their names and regiments were on their crosses, +and "Died of wounds.—F.A.," and R.I.P. It was better to see them like +that Pro Patria than in those few awful days here.</p> + +<p>10.30.—Just admitted a gunner suffering from shock alone—no +wound—completely knocked out; he can't tell you his name, or stand, or +even sit up, but just shivers and shudders. Now he is warm in bed, he +can say "Thank you." I wonder what exactly did it.</p> + +<p>The arrangements the — F.A. happen to have the use of at the French +Hospital, with its up-to-date modern operating theatre for tackling the +wounds in a strictly aseptic and scientific way within a few hours of +the men being hit, are a tremendous help.</p> + +<p>Certainly the ones who pass through No.— get a better chance of early +recovery without long complications than most of those we got on the +train. And while they are awaiting evacuation to the Clearing Hospitals +they have every chance, both here and at the French Hospital, where all +the trained orderlies except two are on duty, and practically all the +M.O.'s. But, of course, there are a great many of the seriously wounded +that no amount of aseptic and skilled surgery or nursing can save.</p> + + +<p><i>Sunday</i>, 11.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> <i>May 16th.</i>—They began coming in at 3.30, +and by 8 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> the place was full to bursting. We managed to get +all the stretcher cases to bed, and as many of the others as we had beds +for, without sending for the other two Sisters, who came on at 8.15, and +are now coping. Most of them were very cheery, because things seem to be +going well. Two lines of trenches taken, all the wire cut, and some of +the earthworks down; but it is always an expensive business even when +successful—only then nobody minds the expense. There are hundreds more +to come in, and the seriously wounded generally get brought in last, +because they can't get up and run, but have to hide in trenches and +shell holes. One man, wounded on Sunday and found on Friday night, had +kept himself alive on dead men's emergency rations. They were all +sopping wet with blood or mud or both.</p> + +<p>The —— lost heavily. I heard one officer say, "They drove us back five +times."</p> + +<p>After breakfast I went to the Cathedral, and then boldly bearded the big +dressing station at the French Hospital, where all the dressings are +done and the men evacuated, armed with a huge linen bag of cigarettes, +chocolate, and writing-cases which came last night. I met the C.O., who +said I could have a look round, and then rowed me for not being in bed, +and said we should be busy to-night and for some time. It was very +interesting, and if you brought your reason to bear on it, not too +horrible.</p> + +<p>Every corridor, waiting-room, ward, and passage was filled with them, +the stretchers waiting their turn on the floors, and the walking cases +(which on the A.T. we used to call the sitting-ups) in groups and +queues. No one was fussing, but all were working at full pitch; and very +few of the men were groaning, but nearly all were gruesomely covered +with blood. And they look pretty awful on the bare gory stretchers, with +no pillows or blankets, just as they are picked up on the field. Many +are asleep from exhaustion.</p> + +<p>What cheered me was one ward full of last Sunday's bad cases, all in +bed, and very cheery and doing well. They loved the writing-cases, &c., +and said it was like Xmas, and they wouldn't want to leave 'ere now.</p> + +<p>A great many of this morning's had already been evacuated, and they were +still pouring in. One has to remember that a great many get quite well, +though many have a ghastly time in store for them in hospital.</p> + +<p>The barge is in the canal again taking in the non-jolters.</p> + +<p>Some stalwart young Tommies at No. 4 were talking about the prisoners. +They told me there weren't many taken, because they found one in a +Jock's uniform.</p> + +<p>I've drawn my curtain so that I can't see those hateful motor ambulances +coming in slowly full, and going back empty fast, and must go to sleep. +I simply loathe the sight of those M.A.'s, admirable inventions though +they are. Had a look into a lovely lorry full of 100-lb. shells in the +square.</p> + +<p>7 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Only one officer has died at the O.D.S. to-day, but +there are two or three who will die. They have evacuated, and filled up +three times already.</p> + +<p>The news from the "scene of operations" is still good, so they are all +still cheerful. The difference to the wounded that makes is +extraordinary. That is why last Sunday's show was such a black blight to +them and to us.</p> + + +<p><i>Monday, May 17th</i>, 10 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Another night of horrors; one more +died, and two young boys came in who will die; one is a Gordon +Highlander of 18, who says "that's glorious" when you put him to bed.</p> + +<p>It was a long whirl of stretchers, and pitiful heaps on them. The +sergeant stayed up helping till 3, and a boy from the kitchen stayed up +all night on his own, helping.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the worst rush the sergeant said to me, "You know +they're shelling the town again?" and at that minute swoop bang came a +big one; and we looked at each other over the stretcher with the same +picture in our mind's eyes of shells dropping in amongst the wounded, +who are all over the town. I hadn't heard them—too busy—but they +didn't go on long.</p> + +<p>The Boches have been heavily shelling our trenches all day.</p> + +<p>One boy said suddenly, when I was attending to his leg, "Aren't you very +foolish to be staying up here?" "Oh, sorry," he said; "I was dreaming +you were in the front line of trenches bandaging people up!"</p> + +<p>Our big guns have been making the building shake all night. The Germans +are trying to get their trenches back by counter-attacking.</p> + + +<p><i>Tuesday, May 18th, is it?</i> 1 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, <i>in bed</i>.—It has been +about the worst night of all the worst nights. I found the wards packed +with bad cases, the boy of 18 dead, and the other boy died half an hour +after I came on. Two more died during the night, two lots were +evacuated, and had to be dug out of their fixings-up in bed and settled +on stretchers, and all night they brought fresh ones in, drenched and +soaked with clayey mud in spadefuls, and clammy with cold.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, May 19th, 12 noon.</i>—Mr —— has been working at No.— at +full pitch for twenty-four hours on end, and had just got into bed when +they sent for him there again. They are all nearly dead, and so are the +orderlies at both places; but they never dream of grousing or shirking, +as they know there's not another man to be had.</p> + +<p>Two more officers died last night, and three more were dying.</p> + +<p>The Padre came and had a Celebration in my ward. Three R.A.M.C. officers +are in badly wounded. They are extraordinarily good.</p> + + +<p><i>Friday, 21st May</i>, 3 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Last night the rush began to abate; +no one died, and only one came in—a general smash-up; he died to-night, +and a very dear boy died to-day. I've lost count now of how many have +died,—I think about twenty-four.</p> + +<p>The Guards' Brigade here went by to-night from the trenches to rest, +singing "Here we are again," and the song about "The girls declare I am +a funny man!"</p> + +<p>11 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—The little Canadian Sister has just been recalled, +I'm sorry to say, but probably we shall get another one. Five Canadian +officers came in last night. The guns are making the dickens of a noise, +very loud and sudden. Yesterday they shelled the town again, and two +more <i>soldats anglais</i> were wounded.</p> + + +<p><i>Saturday, May 22nd</i>, 6.30 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>—Things have been happening at +a great pace since the above, and we are now in our camp-beds in an +empty attic at the top of an old château about three miles back, which +is No.— C.H., at ——.</p> + +<p>Just as I was thinking of getting up yesterday evening they began +putting shells over into the town, and soon they were raining in three +at a time. My little room here is a sort of lean-to over the kitchen +with no room above it; so I cleared out to dress in one of the others, +and didn't stop to wash. Gabrielle came running up to fetch me +downstairs. At the hospital, which was only about 200 yards down the +road, the wounded officers were thinking it was about time Capt. —— +moved his Field Ambulance. One boy by the window had got some <i>débris</i> +in his eye from the nearest shell, which burst in my blackbird's garden, +or rather on the doorstep opposite. (That was the one that got me out of +bed rather rapidly.) The orders soon came to evacuate all the patients. +At the French Hospital, about six minutes away, three wounded had been +hit in a M.A. coming in, and the Officers' Mess had one (none of them +were in), and they were dropping all round it. Then the order came from +the D.D.M.S. to the A.D.M.S. to evacuate the whole of the —th, —th, +and —th Field Ambulances, and within about two hours this was done.</p> + +<p>Everybody got the patients ready, fixed up their dressings and splints, +gave them all morphia, and got them on to their stretchers.</p> + +<p>The evacuation was jolly well done; their servants appeared by magic, +each with every spot of kit and belongings his officer came in with +(they are in <i>all</i> cases checked by the Sergeant on admission, no matter +what the rush is), and the place was empty in an hour. The din of our +guns, which were bombarding heavily, and the German guns, which are +bombarding us at a great pace, and the whistle and bang of the shells +that came over while this was going on, was a din to remember.</p> + +<p>Then we went back to our billet to hurl our belongings into our baggage, +and came away with the A.D.M.S. and his Staff-Major in their two +touring-cars. The Division is back resting somewhere near here. We got +to bed about 2 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> after tea and bread and butter downstairs, +but slept very little owing to the noise of the guns, which shake and +rattle the windows every minute.</p> + +<p>We don't know what happens next.</p> + +<p>At about four this morning I heard a nightingale trilling in the garden.</p> + +<p>2 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—In the Château garden. It is a glorious spot, with +kitchen garden, park, moat bridge, and a huge wilderness up-and-down +plantation round it, full of lilac, copper beeches, and flowering trees +I've never seen before, and birds and butterflies and buttercups. You +look across and see the red-brick Château surrounded by thick lines of +tents, and hear the everlasting incessant thudding and banging of the +guns, and realise that it is not a French country house but a Casualty +Clearing Hospital, with empty—once polished—floors filled with +stretchers, where the worst cases still are, and some left empty for the +incoming convoys. Over two thousand have passed through since Sunday +week. The contrast between the shady garden where I'm lazing now on rugs +and cushions, with innumerable birds, including a nightingale, singing +and nesting, and the nerve-racking sound of the guns and the look of the +place inside, is overwhelming. It is in three Divisions—the house for +the worst cases—and there are tent Sections and the straw-sheds and two +schools in the village. We had our lunch at a sort of inn in the +village. I've never hated the sound of the guns so much; they are almost +unbearable.</p> + +<p>It is a good thing for us to have this sudden rest. I don't know for how +long or what happens next.</p> + +<p>The General of the Division had a narrow escape after we left last +night. The roof of his house was blown off, just at the time he would +have been there, only he was a little late, but an officer was killed; +six shells came into the garden, and the seventh burst at his feet and +killed him as he was standing at the door. I'm glad they got the wounded +away in time. Aeroplanes are buzzing overhead. The Aerodrome is here, +French monoplanes chiefly as far as one can see.</p> + +<p>10 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, <i>in bed</i>.—We have now been temporarily attached to +the Staff here.</p> + +<p>Miss —— has given me charge of the Tent Section, which can take eighty +lying down.</p> + + +<p><i>Whitsunday, 1915.</i>—In bed—in my tent, not a bell, but an Indian tent +big enough for two comfortably. I share with S——. We have nothing but +the camp furniture we took out, but will acquire a few Red Cross boxes +as cupboards to-morrow. It is a peerless night with a young moon and a +soft wind, frogs croaking, guns banging, and a nightingale trilling.</p> + +<p>It has been a funny day, dazzling sun, very few patients.</p> + + +<p><i>Whit-Monday.</i>—Very few in to-day again. I have only six, and am making +the most of the chance of a rest in the garden; one doesn't realise till +after a rush how useful a rest can be. There has been a fearful +bombardment going on all last night and yesterday and to-day; it is a +continual roar, and in the night is maddening to listen to; you can't +forget the war. Mosquitoes, nightingales, frogs, and two horses also +helped to make the night interesting.</p> + +<p>8.30 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>—Waiting for supper. Wounded have been coming in, and +we've had a busy afternoon and evening.</p> + + +<p><i>Wednesday, May 26th.</i>—No time to write yesterday; had a typical +Clearing Hospital Field Day. The left-out-in-the-field wounded (mostly +Canadians) had at last been picked up and came pouring in. I had my Tent +Section of eighty beds nearly full, and we coped in a broiling sun till +we sweltered into little spots of grease, finishing up with five +operations in the little operating tent.</p> + +<p>The poor exhausted Canadians were extraordinarily brave and +uncomplaining. They are evacuated the same day or the next morning, +such as can be got away to survive the journey, but some of the worst +have to stay.</p> + +<p>In the middle of it all at 5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> orders came for me to join +No.— Ambulance Train for duty, but I didn't leave till this morning at +nine, and am now on No.— A.T. on way down to old Boulogne again.</p> + +<p><i>Later.</i>—These orders were afterwards cancelled, and I am for duty at a +Base Hospital.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h5>THE END.</h5> + + +<p class="center"><small>PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.</small></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Diary of a Nursing Sister on the +Western Front, 1914-1915, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIARY OF A NURSING SISTER *** + +***** This file should be named 18910-h.htm or 18910-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/1/18910/ + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Graeme Mackreth and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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