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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77265 ***
+
+
+
+
+A SURGEON IN KHAKI
+
+[Illustration: THE AUTHOR OUTSIDE AMBULANCE HEADQUARTERS AT OUDERDOM.]
+
+
+
+
+                                     A
+                             SURGEON IN KHAKI
+
+                                    BY
+                          ARTHUR ANDERSON MARTIN
+                         M.D., CH.B., F.R.C.S.ED.
+          SENIOR SURGEON, PALMERSTON NORTH HOSPITAL, NEW ZEALAND
+               LATE FIELD AMBULANCE, 5TH DIVISION, 2ND ARMY
+      LATE SURGICAL SPECIALIST, NO. 6 GENERAL HOSPITAL, ROUEN, FRANCE
+                        BRITISH EXPEDITIONARY FORCE
+            LATE CIVIL SURGEON, SOUTH AFRICAN FIELD FORCE, 1901
+
+                            WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                 NEW YORK:
+                           LONGMANS, GREEN & CO.
+                           LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD
+                                   1915
+
+                          [_All rights reserved_]
+
+                        _Printed in Great Britain_
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+In the following pages an attempt is made to record, however imperfectly,
+some of the scenes, and the impressions formed, during those great days
+of 1914 when our army was fighting so stubbornly and against such odds in
+France and Flanders.
+
+The notes in many instances are disconnected, but the things seen
+presented themselves in a disconnected way, and if they are not all
+beautifully dovetailed one into another, they are at least given forth
+somewhat in the way in which I viewed and received them myself.
+
+During the actual progress of this war, and when the war is happily
+over, much literature bearing on the great struggle will be produced,
+but I venture to think that of the personal narrative and the personal
+impression one cannot have too much.
+
+The narrative includes my experiences at Le Havre, Harfleur, and the
+battle of the Marne, the march to the Aisne, the wait on the Aisne, the
+move across France to the new lines behind La Bassée, and the final move
+to Flanders not far from Ypres.
+
+                                                         ARTHUR A. MARTIN.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+   CHAP.                                                              PAGE
+
+      I. FROM PEACE TO WAR                                               1
+
+     II. LE HAVRE AND HARFLEUR                                          15
+
+    III. FROM LE HAVRE TO THE BAY OF BISCAY                             25
+
+     IV. FROM THE BAY OF BISCAY TO EAST OF PARIS                        35
+
+      V. THE ADVANCE TO THE MARNE                                       44
+
+     VI. WHAT I SAW OF THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE                          53
+
+    VII. THE NIGHT OF THE MARNE                                         59
+
+   VIII. FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE                                    65
+
+     IX. THE AISNE AND THE TRAGEDY OF THE SUNKEN ROAD                   84
+
+      X. MISSY ON THE AISNE                                             90
+
+     XI. ON THE AISNE AT MONT DE SOISSONS                              103
+
+    XII. FIELD AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS                       124
+
+   XIII. GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE                                         141
+
+    XIV. THE LA BASSÉE ROAD AT CHÂTEAU GORRE                           164
+
+     XV. BETHUNE                                                       171
+
+    XVI. SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS                                    202
+
+   XVII. WE LEAVE BETHUNE                                              221
+
+  XVIII. OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER                                     231
+
+    XIX. WE LEAVE BELGIUM                                              265
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+  THE AUTHOR OUTSIDE AMBULANCE HEADQUARTERS AT OUDERDOM      _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                               FACING PAGE
+
+  A ROAD OBSTRUCTION NEAR HARFLEUR                                      18
+
+  HARFLEUR—OUR SLEEPING QUARTERS                                        18
+
+  TRANSPORT _CESTRIAN_ IN THE BAY OF BISCAY                             32
+
+  THE _CESTRIAN_ AT ST. NAZAIRE                                         32
+
+  AMBULANCES AT THE MARNE                                               54
+
+  HALT AT SERCHES                                                       84
+
+  GUN TEAMS AT THE MARNE                                                88
+
+  THE WAY TO THE SUNKEN ROAD                                            88
+
+  MONT DE SOISSONS, SHOWING THE OLD TEMPLARS’ HALL AND CHURCH          104
+
+  LOADING WOUNDED AT SOISSONS. THE FIRST MOTOR AMBULANCE ON THE AISNE  122
+
+  THE LEAN-TO AT SOISSONS. UNLOADING WOUNDED                           122
+
+  CHÂTEAU OF LONGPONT                                                  142
+
+  VILLAGE OF LONGPONT                                                  142
+
+  ON THE ROAD TO COMPIÈGNE                                             148
+
+  COMPIÈGNE, SHOWING THE BROKEN BRIDGE                                 156
+
+  AMBULANCE CROSSING THE OISE ON A PONTOON BRIDGE                      156
+
+  LOW FLAT GROUND NEAR THE CANAL, WITH A TRENCH                        168
+
+  TOWARDS LA BASSÉE                                                    168
+
+  SLIGHTLY WOUNDED AND SICK AT BETHUNE                                 176
+
+  ÉCOLE JULES FERRY AT BETHUNE                                         176
+
+  TRENCHES IN FLANDERS                                                 198
+
+  MONSIGNOR DISTRIBUTING MEDALS TO BELGIAN SOLDIERS AT THE ROADSIDE    252
+
+  GOING TOWARDS THE TRENCHES AT YPRES                                  268
+
+  FRENCH SOLDIERS GOING TO THE TRENCHES                                268
+
+
+
+
+A SURGEON IN KHAKI.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+FROM PEACE TO WAR.
+
+EARLY 1914.
+
+
+In April 1914 I left my practice in New Zealand for a short tour through
+the American, British, and Continental surgical clinics.
+
+After having visited all the important clinics in the United States—the
+famous Mayos of Rochester, Murphy’s at Chicago, Cushing’s at Boston, and
+others at Cleveland, Baltimore, and Philadelphia, I finally arrived at
+New York.
+
+When visiting the clinic at the German hospital at Philadelphia, I, with
+other visiting surgeons, principally Americans or German-Americans, was
+invited to tea and cake, or cake and beer, in the reception-room of the
+hospital.
+
+As the day was very hot we all drank iced German lager beer, and, when
+leaving the room, were presented with a gilt “wish-bones” holding ribbons
+of the German national colours.
+
+All of the American and German-American doctors wore the ribbons on
+their coats, but I put mine in my pocket as a curio. I did not wish to be
+thought to have German sympathies, although I had drunk their lager beer.
+In New Zealand the Germans have never been appreciated as they have been
+in England. Perhaps the air of the Pacific gives one a truer perspective
+of some things as they are.
+
+At New York I delayed sailing two days, in order to avoid a German boat,
+and reached England by the Holland-American boat _Rotterdam_ in July.
+We had on board the _Rotterdam_ a very large number of Germans, and as
+usual they were chiefly noticeable for their great prowess at meals, and
+for their noisy method of eating. They drank much “good German beer” and
+filled the rooms with German smoke and German gutturals. They are not
+attractive fellow-travellers.
+
+On arriving in England I proceeded to Aberdeen, where the annual meeting
+of the British Medical Association was being held, and to which I was a
+delegate.
+
+At Aberdeen we had a very large number of foreign representative surgeons
+and physicians and men from nearly every part of the world. As usual
+there were many Germans and a few Austrians.
+
+We were struck by a very curious incident towards the end of the
+meeting—last day of July. The president of the Association, Sir Alexander
+Ogston, gave a reception to all the delegates from the British kindred
+and affiliated associations, and to the foreign representatives. Although
+the German and Austrian delegates had been about in the morning, not one
+was present at the evening reception. They had all departed silently, and
+had said good-bye to no one.
+
+Germany and Austria had sent out their messages, and the medicals
+returned with all speed.
+
+We were then on the eve of war, but none of us at Aberdeen thought that
+we would be in it, or that we were then rushing swiftly to great events.
+
+The Austrian note to Serbia was being discussed. Germany’s action was
+doubtful. Russia plainly said that she would not stand by and tamely see
+Serbian Slavs humiliated by their powerful neighbours. In spite of the
+cloudiness of the political atmosphere and the slight oppressiveness none
+really expected lightning and thunder, or that any spirit would
+
+    In these confines with a monarch’s voice
+    Cry Havoc! and let slip the dogs of war.
+
+On the 3rd August Sir Edward Grey, in the House of Commons, in a serious
+speech, reviewed the European situation. With convincing eloquence he
+showed how anxiously he had striven to maintain peace, and exactly
+defined England’s attitude in certain possible contingencies.
+
+The excitement all over the country was tremendous. The air was
+electrical with coming events, a spark would set the firmament ablaze.
+One could almost see the peoples of Russia, Germany, Austria, France,
+Belgium and Serbia gaze questioningly, anxiously, across the Channel
+at the Island Kingdom, and wondering in that tense moment, What would
+England do?
+
+Then flaring headlines in the press told that Liége, the great eastern
+fortress and arsenal of Belgium, had been furiously bombarded by the
+German artillery, and that Bethmann-Hollweg, the German Chancellor, had
+declared that a solemn treaty guaranteeing the neutrality of Belgium was
+of no more value than a scrap of paper.
+
+Then England declared war against Germany, and on the 4th of August we
+knew that England was to take her place in the titanic world-war and step
+into the all-engulfing struggle.
+
+So here it was at last. War with Germany! The restrained hostility of
+years was now no longer concealed, the long-pent-up passions were now let
+loose. Men seemed to breathe easier, and an air of relief pervaded the
+country.
+
+England was like a sick man after a consultation with the surgeons. He
+looks eagerly and anxiously at the surgeons, hoping that no operation may
+be necessary, but dreading and expecting that it may. Once told by them
+that an operation is necessary in order that he may live, his doubts and
+hesitation disappear, and he agrees to submit and to undergo the drastic
+measures and emerge a strong and whole man. There is a relief that he has
+decided and the mind becomes tranquil.
+
+The gravity of the issue was realised in England in those early August
+days. Those entitled to speak with authority pronounced that the war
+would be a big war—the greatest since the beginning of time—and that the
+men and women of our day and generation would have to pass through sorrow
+and tribulation and wade through dark and troubled waters before the end
+would be finally achieved.
+
+The justness of England’s quarrel was everywhere acknowledged, except in
+the land of the enemy, and the exposure of the tortuous and insidious
+German diplomacy stirred up the English sense of straight dealing and
+fairplay.
+
+On 6th August I motored down from the Highlands to Edinburgh, through the
+Pass of Killiecrankie and some of the loveliest scenery in Scotland.
+
+Everywhere were signs of mobilisation. Khaki soldiers and “mufti”
+recruits at every dépôt and around recruiting sergeants. The price of
+petrol had suddenly risen—why, nobody quite knew, but somebody was making
+money out of it, we were sure. At one town I paid ten shillings for a
+two-gallon tin.
+
+In the evening I reached Queensferry, but was not allowed to cross at
+that hour. As the ferry would not be going again till next morning I
+motored back to Dunfermline, and having stopped the night there, returned
+early in the morning to the Ferry. This time I got across with my car.
+The Firth of Forth presented a very busy scene that morning. Torpedo
+boats and naval craft of all sorts and sizes were dashing about, and in
+the distance were the large dark outlines of big ships of war.
+
+From Queensferry a rapid run brought me to Edinburgh, where the whole
+talk in hotel smoking-rooms, at table, and on the street, was of war.
+The kilted soldier was looked at with more interest as he walked the
+streets, and appeals were placarded on every prominent place for new
+recruits.
+
+The morning papers announced that the House of Commons had passed a war
+vote of one hundred million pounds, and that Kitchener had asked for five
+hundred thousand men to join the army.
+
+The Cabinet, like a good physician, was giving the nation its medicine
+in small doses during these early days. Doctors will tell you that small
+doses frequently repeated are so much better than a big dose taken at
+one wry mouthful, for a big heroic dose taken at one gulp often causes
+nausea. The hundred million pounds and the five hundred thousand men made
+the first teaspoonful of the national physic which was to help get rid of
+the fatty degeneration and change our sleeping, sluggish strength into
+the crouch and spring and hit of the prize fighter.
+
+Next day I took train for London in order to offer my medical service
+to the War Office. There was an urgent demand for surgeons to volunteer
+for active service, and at this particular juncture good surgeons who
+were free to go were not very plentiful. As I was on a tour of surgical
+clinics at this time I decided to do my bit for the country and the men
+in the field. Having nothing to do when I reached London that evening,
+I strolled into a music hall and heard “God Save the King,” “Rule,
+Britannia,” the “Marseillaise,” the Russian, Belgian, and Serbian
+national hymns—all blared out to cheering and shouting crowds, who
+seemed to thoroughly enjoy “being at war.” It was reminiscent of the days
+of the Boer War in 1899:
+
+    “‘ALEA JACTA EST’—THE DIE IS CAST.”
+
+Early next day I visited the Medical Department of the War Office at
+Whitehall, and volunteered as a surgeon with the Expeditionary Army to
+France. Two days afterwards the War Office sent me a note requesting me
+to call at the office and be examined to see if I was physically fit. So
+I did. The physical examination was carried out with amazing celerity,
+and I was handed on as “fit.” The genial old army doctor appointed for
+this duty of examining his younger colleagues made his diagnosis on sight
+almost, and toyed easily with his stethoscope while he inquired about the
+state of the teeth and the digestion.
+
+I was then ushered into another office and was duly appointed a Temporary
+Lieutenant in the Royal Army Medical Corps.
+
+All the civilian surgeons accepted for service with the army—with the
+exception of a few consulting surgeons—were given the rank of Temporary
+Lieutenant. Seniority or special skill or previous war experience
+mattered nothing. I had already served as a Civil Surgeon, attached
+to the Royal Army Medical Corps during the South African War, and had
+a medal and four clasps from that campaign, and since that period had
+been surgeon to an important hospital in New Zealand, and was a retired
+Captain in the New Zealand Medical Corps. That, however, did not entitle
+me to hold any higher rank than the young medical man who had completed
+his medical training only a week ago. Many able medical men all over the
+country had voluntarily left lucrative practices and important surgical
+and medical staff appointments in big London and provincial hospitals
+and were enrolled as Lieutenants in the Royal Army Medical Corps, on the
+same footing as junior medical men who had perhaps been their pupils but
+a few weeks before. We all ranked below the regular officers of the Royal
+Army Medical Corps. Volunteers for combatant commissions who had had
+previous experience were given rank accordingly. Some discrimination was
+made in the combatant arm, and rightly so. No discrimination was made in
+the medical service, and undoubtedly that was a mistake. The same lack
+of organised control was exhibited at every turn in the medical service.
+Men with imperfect professional skill and experience were given duties
+which should have been entrusted only to men fully possessed of those
+qualifications. This criticism is not merely a destructive one. Criticism
+is absolutely necessary at certain times, and there are some mistakes in
+policy which should be freely ventilated. This same policy was pursued
+by the Army Medical Department during the South African War, and was
+very openly discussed. This led to drastic changes in the organisation
+of the Royal Army Medical Corps, following on the Commission of Inquiry
+set up by Mr. Brodrick (now Lord Midleton). In this war, I regret to say,
+the old leaven has again appeared, and its re-appearance has aroused
+considerable comment and been a cause of inefficiency.
+
+After having been given my commission I was told to procure a uniform—Sam
+Browne belt, a revolver, blankets, and other campaigning kit—and to be
+prepared to move in forty-eight hours. With great difficulty I managed
+to get some sort of equipment together. The military tailors were
+working at high pressure, and when asked to make a coat or breeches in
+a certain time simply said, “It can’t be done.” By skilful diplomacy I
+got a coat in one place, a pair of riding breeches in another, puttees
+at another, leggings elsewhere, and so on. One could not then obtain
+khaki shirts or ties in London. I did not get a revolver, although this
+was on the list of things necessary. Neither did I purchase a sword. Why
+a medical officer should be asked to carry a sword and a revolver, and
+at the same time wear a Red Cross brassard on the left arm, I am at a
+loss to understand. I have asked many senior medical officers of what
+use a revolver and sword were to a doctor on active service, and the
+only reply I could get was that they were useful to defend the wounded.
+It would have been much more sensible for the War Office to tell each
+medical officer to get several pairs of rubber gloves for dressings and
+operations. I sometimes wondered if the War Office expected the surgeons
+to perform amputations with a sword. However, I did not get a revolver,
+and I did not get a sword. Later on, in France, I have seen mild-looking
+young surgeons arrive at the front armed to the teeth, with swords,
+revolvers and ammunition, clanking spurs, map cases, field-glasses and
+compasses strung all round them, and on their left arm the brassard with
+the Red Cross. We called them “Christmas trees.”
+
+At last my equipment was complete, and I received orders to go to
+Aldershot and report to the Assistant Director of Medical Services for
+duty.
+
+I was now a “Surgeon in Khaki” and part of that great military hammer—the
+British Expeditionary Force.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When I arrived at Aldershot the town seemed deserted. The majority of the
+big barracks were empty. We were told that the British Army had just left
+for the Continent, and that the Aldershot command, under General Haig,
+had gone to a man. Aldershot was rapidly preparing to receive and train
+recruits, mobilise reinforcements, and keep up a steady flow of men to
+replace casualties. This was great news. When we left London we did not
+know that the British Expeditionary Army had gone.
+
+The A.D.M.S. (Assistant Director of Medical Services) put me on duty at
+the Cambridge Military Hospital at Aldershot, while awaiting orders for
+the front. Several surgeons awaiting orders were already here, and we
+all billeted at the Victoria Hotel. We were soon at work examining and
+passing recruits, inoculating troops against typhoid, and vaccinating all
+who had no conscientious objections. Some had “conscientious” objections
+to inoculation. Soldiers should not be allowed liberty of conscience in
+these matters. They should be made immune against typhoid and smallpox at
+“the word of command” in spite of the screechings of fanatics suffering
+from distorted cerebration.
+
+Our duty at the recruiting dépôts was a very amusing one. We here came in
+contact with the first hopefuls of Kitchener’s new army. The first call
+to arms generally brings in a very motley crowd. The best of the recruits
+do not turn up during the first few days, as these have generally some
+domestic or business matters to arrange. It was the “First Footers” we
+got in these days at Aldershot.
+
+Another medical officer and myself took over one dépôt. We arrived at
+8.30 a.m. Standing in a straggling two-deep line before the dépôt door
+were about three hundred men of the most variegated texture—some lean,
+some fat, some smart, some unkempt, but all looking very cheerful and
+hopeful. A smart R.A.M.C. sergeant is waiting at the door with a list of
+their names. It is our duty to examine physically this first batch of
+three hundred, to see if they are fit enough to train to fight Germans.
+Ten men are marched into the dépôt. Each doctor takes five at a time.
+At the word of command they strip and the doctor begins. He casts a
+professional eye rapidly over the nude recruit. A general look like this
+to a trained eye conveys a lot. The chest is examined, tongue, mouth,
+and teeth looked at. The usual sites for rupture are examined. About
+three questions are asked: “Any previous illness?” “Age?” “Previous
+occupation?” A mark is placed against the name, the nude Briton is told
+to clothe himself, and the examination is over. It is done at express
+speed, and although the examination is not very thorough it is sufficient
+to enable an experienced man to detect most physical defects. If a man
+passed, he was put down for foreign service. Some had slight defects and
+were put down for home defence. Some had glaring defects and were turned
+down altogether. We had all sorts of derelicts turn up. One weary-looking
+veteran, unwashed and with straw sticking in his hair, indicative of
+a bed in a haystack the previous night, was blind in one eye and very
+lame. A draper’s assistant from a London shop had a twisted spine, an
+old soldier had syphilitic ulcers on the legs, some had bad hearts from
+excessive smoking, some bad kidneys from excessive drinking, some young
+men were really sexagenarians from hard living, and so on. They were old
+men before their time. The occupations of our recruits were as diverse
+as their shapes and constitutions—a runaway sailor, a Cockney coster, a
+draper’s assistant, a sea cook, a medical student, a broken-down parson,
+an obvious gaolbird, and a Sunday-school teacher.
+
+    “Cook’s son, duke’s son, son of a belted earl,
+    Son of a Lambeth publican, they’re all the same to-day.”
+
+Before the doctor the son of a prize fighter makes a better showing than
+the son of a consumptive bishop. We had orders not to be too strict with
+our physical examination. We were not to turn a man down if he could be
+usefully employed in any State service during the war. For instance,
+many of the “weeds” amongst the young men, the cigarette victims, the
+pasty-faced, flat-chested youths, those who had lived down dark alleys
+and in unhygienic surroundings all their lives, were all capable of
+being made into better men. Regular meals, plain food, good quarters,
+baths, cleanliness and hard work, marching, drilling and gymnastics, made
+these slouching, dull-eyed youths into active, smart men. They then held
+their heads up, breathed the free air, lost their sullenness, and became
+cheerful. Some of the recruits were not fit to be made into soldiers, and
+work could always be found for them. There are so many openings for the
+willing man at this time, be it cook’s assistant, mess servant, officer’s
+servant, orderly, or bootmaker’s help.
+
+It was always an interesting sight to see the sergeant and corporal
+drill these clumsy recruits, and show them how to walk, and where to
+place their feet. The army drill sergeant has a very caustic wit and a
+wonderful fund of cutting comments. He knows his audience well, and with
+a few crisp epithets can galvanise a sluggish recruit or a slouching
+company into something instinct with alertness.
+
+On 21st August, six surgeons, including myself, were ordered to hold
+ourselves in readiness for service abroad. We were told to overhaul our
+kits thoroughly, think out all necessary things, and not to have any
+excessive baggage. None of us had. The Wolseley valise held our little
+all.
+
+The last good-byes were said, and at 4 p.m. we entrained at Aldershot
+for our journey to “somewhere in France.” We were all very glad to be
+off. We were all very curious to see and take part in the romance and
+adventures of the great battles that we knew would be sure to take place.
+
+Romance! Adventure! Very soon we were up against cold facts, and there
+was no romance or pomp and circumstance then.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+LE HAVRE AND HARFLEUR.
+
+
+At 12 p.m. we detrained at Southampton, hungry and thirsty. Owing to
+lack of foresight we had had nothing to eat since breakfast. The night
+was a beautiful one, and a voyage across channel sounded very inviting.
+We marched our 350 R.A.M.C. orderlies on to our transport, the _Braemar
+Castle_, and the officers tried to find a place to sleep. We managed to
+get some corners in the smoking-room, and curled up as best we could in
+the cramped places. The ship was packed full of troops, and we learned
+that we were the first reinforcements for the Expeditionary Army. We had
+two generals on board and the headquarter staff of a new division. Our
+destination was to be Le Havre. At 2 a.m. we steamed out, followed by
+several other transports crowded with soldiers. Torpedo-boat destroyers
+kept watchful eyes on us across channel, and twice a huge searchlight
+played all round us from far out at sea. The navy was watching on the
+deep waters. The soldiers on board slept on the deck, on hatches,
+anywhere, and they were all up and cheerfully carolling at dawn. When
+a soldier wakes his first thought is for food, and at 5 a.m. they were
+all discussing bully beef and biscuits. The ship’s cook had prepared
+cauldrons of tea,—and Tommy loves tea. One wag after breakfast stood on
+a hatch reciting, “Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in
+sundry places,” to a congregation of grimy-faced soldiers.
+
+At 12.30 midday we sighted Le Havre, and in two hours were tied alongside
+the wharf. The disembarkation rapidly followed, and at 4 p.m. we were on
+the march through Le Havre to our encampment. As we steamed into Le Havre
+there was a scene of the wildest enthusiasm, and the whole harbour front
+was a mass of cheering men and women and children. “Vive l’Angleterre!”
+“Vive Tommy!” “Vive l’entente cordiale!” Flags and handkerchiefs were
+waved from every window, and the picture of enthusiastic welcome was most
+inspiring. Our men seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, and cheered and yelled
+their throaty greetings as loudly and as heartily as the French. One
+would call in a bull voice, “Are we downhearted?” and the reply, “No!”
+from thousands of throats, echoed and reverberated over the sea front.
+
+Then would come a piping voice, “Do we like beer?” followed by a
+unanimous roar of “Yes.” The French welcome was a spontaneous and
+enthusiastic one, and Le Havre, gay with bunting and twined flags,
+shouted itself hoarse that day. I visited Le Havre some months later
+and saw a crowded British transport arrive. There was no cheering, no
+flags, no excitement. At the wharf was a big hospital ship, and wounded
+soldiers were being carried aboard by stretcher-bearers. The French had,
+since August, passed through some days of disappointment and despair, and
+the German was still in France. The frenzied ecstasy of that welcome of
+August, the gifts of flowers, of fruit, of wine were no longer there, but
+deep down there was still the same welcome, unspoken but warm and sincere.
+
+A dusty march of eight miles on a hot, blistering road brought us to our
+camp at Harfleur. We were indeed on historic ground. Close by were the
+remains of the old Castle of Harfleur that Henry V. and his men-at-arms
+stormed in the long ago.
+
+On this same field Henry is said to have addressed his soldiers:
+
+    “And you good yeomen,
+    Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
+    The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
+    That you are worth your breeding.”
+
+It was on this field and at that time that old Bardolph said:
+
+    “Would I were in an alehouse in London.
+    I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.”
+
+So here again, in the twentieth century, were some thousands of good
+yeomen whose limbs were made in England, and a pot of ale would have been
+relished by all, for the day had been a thirsty one.
+
+Our arrival at camp was not expected. The commandant seemed very
+surprised to see us, but told us to make ourselves at home. We had no
+kits, no blankets, no tents, no food—all had been left on the wharf—and
+no hot water was procurable. We made a meal off our “iron rations,”
+which consist of a small waterproof cover holding a tin of bully beef,
+biscuits, pepper and salt and tea. Pipes were lit and we then lay down as
+we were, under the lee of a haystack, and slept till bugle-call, when we
+awoke, cold and damp with dew. The nights were very cold at this time and
+the days terribly hot.
+
+The camp at Harfleur had about five or six thousand men, composed of
+representatives of all arms of the service—Highlanders, Guardsmen,
+Engineers, and details from dozens of other regiments. We were
+reinforcements. Rumours were coming through at this time that all was
+not well with our army, and we were disquieted to hear that it was being
+steadily pushed back and fighting desperately. The retirement of our army
+occasioned anxiety at Le Havre, our principal base at that time, and
+the reinforcements at Harfleur could not be joined up till the position
+became clearer.
+
+[Illustration: A ROAD OBSTRUCTION NEAR HARFLEUR.]
+
+[Illustration: HARFLEUR—OUR SLEEPING QUARTERS.]
+
+At Harfleur we got little authentic news. We lived on rumours, and some
+of these were of the most extraordinary kind. There was one rumour
+that came through, and the Tommies fully believed it. It was said that
+the Germans cut off the right hand of every captured stretcher-bearer,
+and killed every prisoner of the combatant rank. Our men were quite
+determined to die fighting, and the stretcher-bearers asked for guns. The
+day after our arrival in camp we were given tents, and these were pitched
+in the morning. Twelve men were put to each tent, but blankets were few
+and we could only give four blankets to each tent. Next day the tents
+were struck and packed away for some unknown reason, and that night we
+all had to sleep in the open. The officers’ kits arrived on the second
+day, and on the fourth day we were told to take from them only what
+was absolutely necessary. It was said that our kits were to be either
+packed away or burned. It was said also that the whole camp equipment,
+tents, blankets, etc., were to be burned. Later in the day this order was
+countermanded and we again took possession of our kits. We guessed from
+all these various orders that the position at the front was uncertain,
+and, as history has since shown, such was the case. On our fourth day at
+Harfleur a flying man arrived in his aeroplane from England, and we all
+crowded round to know what the latest news was. He had none to give, but
+told us that he had flown over a part of the German army. I think that
+he brought some important information, for that afternoon the whole camp
+was set to work digging trenches right across the front of the camp. We
+had more rumours of “tremendous British losses,” “breakdown of French
+mobilisation,” “stubborn fighting,” but nothing authentic reached us.
+
+However, work proceeded feverishly in the camp. Harfleur was on the main
+road leading from the north to Le Havre. It was said that the Germans
+were advancing, and this was true. A raiding force of 20,000 men—one
+German division—of cavalry, gunners, and infantry—the latter on fast
+motor-lorries—was certainly moving on Le Havre, and the intention was to
+destroy the British base dépôt, burn our huge stores, and capture and
+sink all the shipping and blow up the railways. Our camp was to delay
+this raid till the French could move up some divisions. Accordingly,
+lines of trenches were dug across the turnip fields and meadows. The
+farmhouses were surrounded by trenches and put into a state of defence.
+The doctors and stretcher-bearers were ordered to occupy an orchard about
+500 yards in rear of the trenches. There was an extraordinary resemblance
+between one old farmhouse adjoining the camp and the famous farmhouse
+of Hougoumont at Waterloo. There was an old chapel in the centre of the
+farm, near to the big two-storied stone dwelling. Behind the chapel
+were the wine cellars and stables. To the right of the house was a long
+orchard surrounded by a stone wall about 5 feet high. The farmhouse and
+farmyard were surrounded by a high stone wall. Also there was a big
+gateway as at Hougoumont. Inside and lining the stone walls were tall
+pine trees. Our men soon began to make some alterations in the quaint old
+Norman place. The lower branches of the trees were lopped off. Trenches
+were made inside the stone wall and stones were pulled out of the base
+for loopholes for rifles, so that our men could lie in the ditch and fire
+through the bottom of the wall. The same thing was done in the orchard,
+and men of the Rifle Brigade were told off to line its walls when the
+time came. This farm, if exposed to artillery, of course would have been
+a death-trap, but against infantry or cavalry would have been a very
+hornet’s nest for the enemy to attack. The gateways were pulled down,
+barricades were placed across the gaps, and machine-guns controlled the
+angles and were able to sweep the open spaces, should a rush be made,
+with a hail of lead.
+
+All was ready for a second Hougoumont, and the picture was completed by
+the old farmer’s wife, who was ordered to leave the farm, but who firmly
+refused to budge. Had the Germans come, like her ancient prototype on
+that June day at Waterloo, she would most likely have taken shelter at
+the foot of the cross in the chapel.
+
+But the Germans did not come, and history is deprived of a moving and
+stirring story.
+
+It was tragic but ludicrous to see the blank despair and consternation
+on the face of the old farmer when we started to lop down some of his
+trees, dig trenches round his farm and through his turnip fields. Knowing
+very little about the war, and only vaguely interested in the invasion
+of France, he was deeply concerned about his turnips and his trees.
+Everything, however, was put right for him before we left.
+
+When all our preparations for defence were complete two German aeroplanes
+passed over us going towards Le Havre. Here they were fired on, and they
+then returned to have a further look at Harfleur and circled slowly over
+our camp. As we had no aircraft guns they descended fairly low, and I
+think must have seen everything there was to see. We had field-glasses
+out and could easily discern the black cross painted on the wings of the
+Taube.
+
+So there we were in our trenches commanding the roads to Le Havre, with a
+Hougoumont and an orchard, and stone walls lined with riflemen. History,
+so far, has not recorded how we “held the gate” to Le Havre without
+firing a shot and without losing a man, but I am sure that it was our
+preparations, seen by the enemy aeroplanes, that deterred the Germans
+from coming on. It was a raiding German force, and a raiding force has no
+time to tackle defences and strongly held positions. A brigade of French
+cavalry moved across our front and rode as a big cavalry screen towards
+the advancing raiders. Fifteen thousand French troops followed them; and
+when twelve miles from our camp the Germans turned back, the menace was
+over, and we breathed again.
+
+A fast scouting motor-car containing three Prussian officers ran headlong
+into a barricade cleverly placed across a road about ten miles from
+Harfleur. A ditch, broad but shallow, was made across the road near a
+curve, and artfully concealed with gravel laid on thin planking across
+the top. The car rushed right on to this and was upset. Some concealed
+French cavalry then rode up and captured the party.
+
+The French officer who made the capture told me that the German officers
+were livid with anger when he and his men rode up with drawn sabres.
+One of the German officers had a revolver in his hand, which he flung
+violently at the head of the chauffeur.
+
+This defence of the road at Harfleur was one of those minor incidents
+of the war which has been forgotten or ignored in the swirl of the big
+happenings at that time. The situation of Le Havre and Harfleur was then
+one of grave peril and gave rise to considerable anxiety. One need not
+have been on the spot to grasp the dangerous possibilities. Our defence
+of Harfleur ended tamely. We were told one day that Lord Kitchener was at
+Le Havre and had ordered the evacuation of the big base by the British.
+That night we were ordered by our commandant to strike the camp, move
+into Le Havre, and embark on transports for a destination unknown.
+
+The day before we left Le Havre some British stragglers from our
+retreating army turned up in camp. About twenty-five dirty, grimy,
+footsore men, with unkempt hair and stubbly beards, wandered in and told
+us that they had lost their regiments and their way after Mons. Since
+then they had been gipsying through France towards the coast. Sometimes
+they got a lift on a farmer’s cart, but mostly they walked. They said
+that the French people had treated them very well, and they certainly
+did not look hungry. As usual, they told most harrowing tales. One man
+said that the whole army had been captured by an army of twenty million
+Germans!
+
+On the morning of our last day at Harfleur we were all thrilled by the
+visit of a German spy. I have said previously that when the trenches were
+being dug at Harfleur the medical detachment was sent to an orchard in
+the rear. A road led past the gate of this orchard. At the gateway we had
+two of our men on sentry-go. Farther down the road was a French sentry
+with a fixed bayonet. At 3 a.m. a powerful two-seater automobile dashed
+up this road and pulled up at the gateway. The driver had on a heavy
+khaki motor overcoat and a khaki cap. His face was muffled in a khaki
+scarf. An officer, also in khaki, stepped out and began questioning our
+men at the gate. He asked how many men were in the camp; were there any
+big guns, and where were they? Had any ammunition been brought up that
+day? Our sentries were heavy north-countrymen, recently enlisted, and did
+not tumble to the fact that it was an unusual thing for a British officer
+to put such questions to a private on sentry-go. The officer then got on
+his car and went back in the direction of Le Havre. We were all agreed
+that the strange officer was a spy dressed up to look like a British
+officer. The French told us that Le Havre was full of spies at this time,
+and that they had made many arrests of suspects.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+FROM LE HAVRE TO THE BAY OF BISCAY.
+
+
+We knew that serious events must have happened when K. of K. had
+personally visited Le Havre and had ordered its evacuation. It was
+Napoleon who said that it was a disastrous thing to attempt to change
+an army’s base during the actual progress of a war. But in this war
+old maxims and trite sayings go by the board. Anyone having the most
+elementary knowledge of war, and what an army in the field signifies,
+will agree that even if changing a base may not lead to disaster, it is
+nevertheless a very formidable and a very risky move. Le Havre at this
+time was a huge base from which our army in the field was receiving its
+supplies. Transports conveying all the necessaries for a fighting army
+unloaded their cargoes on its wharves. From there the supplies were sent
+by train to the advanced base in the centre of France, and from there
+onward to the various refilling stations. The destruction of Le Havre, or
+its temporary loss as a base, would have been a calamity. The army would
+have ceased to receive food, waggons, ammunition and equipment, guns,
+horses, forage, reinforcements, hospital supplies, etc. An army without
+ammunition and food is no longer of any fighting value. Think also of
+the quantities of material necessary to supply an army of 70,000 men, and
+this will give some idea of the immense war dépôt Le Havre was at this
+time. Circumstances must have indeed been serious to have necessitated a
+change of base. It meant also that the railway arrangements so carefully
+thought out, and which had so far been in operation, would have to be
+suddenly changed. Supply trains would have to be sent to the front from
+some other base, and returning empty supply trains and hospital trains
+would have to be diverted from Le Havre to the place chosen as the future
+base. The task was a gigantic one, and was rendered more so because it
+had to be completed in a hurry.
+
+We reached Le Havre from Harfleur in the late afternoon. A large convoy
+of Belgian ambulances full of wounded was moving through the streets
+towards the wharves, and a French Infantry Division passed us in full
+panoply of war going east. Six large transports with steam up were lying
+at the wharves. The wharves were a scene of unparalleled activity, and
+when one got right down amidst this activity and looked around, one
+could realise that things were very chaotic. Every one was shouting
+and cursing; contradictory orders were given; some stores which had
+just been loaded in one of the holds of one transport were being again
+unloaded. Through careless handling a huge crate of iron bedsteads for a
+military hospital fell into the sea between the ship and the wharf. But
+as the stores were Government property—therefore nobody’s property—no
+one seemed to mind very much. The stage between the ship and the big
+sheds was packed with all sorts of goods in inextricable confusion. Here
+were bales of hospital blankets dumped on kegs of butter, there boxes of
+biscuits lying packed in a corner, with a forgotten hose-pipe playing
+water on them. Inside the sheds were machine-guns, heavy field pieces,
+ammunition, some aeroplanes, crowds of ambulance waggons, London buses,
+heavy transport waggons, kitchens, beds, tents for a general hospital,
+stacks of rifles, bales of straw, mountainous bags of oats, flour, beef,
+potatoes, crates of bully beef, telephones and telegraphs, water carts,
+field kitchens, unending rolls of barbed wire, shovels, picks, and so on.
+All had been brought into the sheds and left there in a higgledy-piggledy
+fashion. An Army Service man was trying in despair to get some forage
+on board; a colonel of the Medical Staff was trying to get his Base
+Hospital on board. There was apparently no _single_ brain in control, and
+the loading of the ships went on in the most extraordinary way. Things
+nearest the ship’s side were put in first. Part of a Base Hospital was
+put in with part of a Battery, followed by bundles of compressed straw
+fodder and boxes of soap.
+
+The transport _Turcoman_ was full of troops. There seemed to be thousands
+of them on board, and the decks were packed with men. On walking up the
+gangway I was met by the officer commanding the troops, and he told me
+that I could not be allowed on board with any men as the ship was already
+overcrowded. I told him that my orders were to embark on the _Turcoman_,
+but the reply, “Very sorry indeed, but it can’t be done,” settled the
+matter.
+
+So I descended, and with difficulty picked my way along another wharf and
+found another transport, the _Cestrian_, also a centre of the same scene
+of bustle and activity as the _Turcoman_. The _Cestrian_ was crowded with
+soldiers, and was being frantically loaded up with all sorts of goods,
+from aeroplanes to bandages.
+
+I got my men on board and told them to make themselves as comfortable as
+they could on deck, and after some searching round at last found a corner
+of the smoking-room which would serve me for a bed for the night. Here my
+servant dumped down my valise.
+
+I was unable to find out the destination of the _Turcoman_; nobody seemed
+to know, but there were rumours that it was to be “somewhere in the Bay
+of Biscay.” Nobody knew where the _Cestrian_ was going. As my orders
+were to travel by the _Turcoman_, and as I was really on the _Cestrian_,
+I was anxious to find out if the destination of the two boats was to be
+the same port. But nobody could tell me, so I lit my pipe of tobacco,
+leaned over the ship’s side, and never troubled any more about my orders.
+I really did not know whether the _Cestrian_ was going to England or
+another part of France, or the Black Sea for that matter.
+
+The scene on the _Cestrian_ was a strange one. It was now quite dark and
+the loading of the cargo was carried out under electric flares. There
+were on board 2600 soldiers and 600 horses. These unfortunate horses had
+been put on board twenty-four hours before the troops embarked, instead
+of the other way about, and the smell from the hot, stifling horse-boxes
+was overpowering. Why these poor beasts were not embarked last of all,
+was a mystery. Imagine 600 horses cooped up in narrow boxes during a
+long, hot, stifling summer day, when they could easily have been kept at
+the horse dépôt close by till the last minute!
+
+One horse died before we started, and was slung out by ropes on to the
+wharf.
+
+This horse episode was the occasion of much scathing comment amongst
+senior officers and old cavalry and artillery non-coms.
+
+It is a pity that some of the higher command—those responsible—could not
+have heard the remarks of these knowing old non-commissioned officers.
+
+At last the ship’s holds were full. Gangways were up and we dropped
+slowly down the locks to the Seine mouth, and so out into the Channel.
+We were met by a fierce, gusty head wind and welcomed it for the horses’
+sakes. Large wind ventilators were arranged to allow the fresh air to
+reach the horse-boxes.
+
+Our men slept on the decks, and there were so many of them that to step
+one’s way over them would have been almost impossible.
+
+The dining-rooms, cabins, and smoking-rooms were full of sleeping or
+dozing officers. I managed to commandeer an old sofa cushion, and lay on
+that in the corner of the smoking-room and went to sleep, and dreamt of
+thousands of horses looking reproachfully at me out of boxes.
+
+At break of day we were all up at bugle-call and soon washed. The
+ship’s cook was a man of some eminence in his profession, for he had
+provided porridge and milk, ham and eggs, bread and butter and tea for
+our breakfast, and, filled with amazement, we sat round to enjoy it.
+Generally of meals on a transport there are none. A big cruiser was
+seen after breakfast to be bearing rapidly down on us, and the usual
+“optimist” present, after carefully observing her through a telescope,
+pronounced her nationality as German, and that it was now a watery grave
+in the Bay of Biscay for 2600 men and 600 horses. As she came nearer we
+showed our flag, and she displayed the French ensign. We gave her our
+number and dipped our bit of bunting, and the great ironclad sheered
+off. It was a relief to know that she was about, and looking after our
+transports.
+
+On the way out from Le Havre we passed the United States battleship
+_Tennessee_, and our men seeing some of her sailors standing in a group
+gazing at us, gave a cheer and the usual “Are we downhearted? No!”
+greeting. The American sailors gave a real good hearty cheer, and yells
+of “good luck”; but an officer then ran up to them and said something,
+and they became suddenly silent, and only waved their hands. They had
+probably been told by their officer that they were “neutrals,” and
+belonged to the battleship of a nation friendly to all the belligerents.
+But we knew that they were with us “inside,” and anyhow the Americans
+have not been neutral in their hearts. They are all “for us” and “for the
+Allies.”
+
+Life on board our transport was uneventful. We smoked and slept and ate.
+There was no room to walk about. I never saw such a crowded ship.
+
+We had on board the complete _personnel_ of a Base Hospital, and the
+medical officer commanding told me that he had orders to pitch his
+hospital at once at Nantes in order to take in wounded, as there was a
+big demand for more beds. In spite of his utmost endeavours he could not
+get his hospital equipment on the _Cestrian_.
+
+All the instruments, dressings, and X-ray apparatus had been left behind
+for another boat, and he thought that he might not be able to get them
+for another week, or perhaps longer.
+
+This was but another example of the lack of control at Le Havre during
+the change of base; a hospital was badly wanted at Nantes; all the
+_personnel_ and half the equipment were sent away, and the other half
+left on the wharves. We learned later that the holds of our boat the
+_Cestrian_ were not full when she left Le Havre, but that she had been
+ordered to leave on account of the horses being in such a bad state from
+the hot, stifling atmosphere in their quarters below decks.
+
+It was necessary to proceed to sea to get a current of cold air down the
+ventilating shafts to the horses’ cribs. This senseless blundering over
+the horses led to the death of several of the poor beasts, and besides
+crippled a Base Hospital at a time when it was urgently needed. Over
+and over again during this war one has met with instances of a want of
+reasoned judgment on the part of senior controlling officers. In certain
+emergencies they have been unable to “orientate” themselves—to use an
+Americanism—or to “envisage” a situation.
+
+Blunders, slips, miscalculations, carelessness, in time of war mean the
+loss of valuable lives. We want alert, clear-brained, thinking men in all
+responsible posts. If a senior officer shows himself lacking in these
+essentials—then he must go. Many of the responsible French army officials
+at the beginning of the campaign proved themselves lacking in initiative
+and judgment. Joffre sent these officers to “Limoges.” We should send
+our incapables to “Stellenbosch.” Both places are indicative of a quiet
+retirement, where they can live without thinking, where there are quiet
+clubs, cigars and cocktails, and comfortable chairs for an afternoon
+nap. The good ship _Cestrian_ was a very fine steamer, but a very dirty
+one at this epoch. She badly wanted a clean-up. The lavatories and
+water-closets were indescribably filthy and foul, and acrid ammoniacal
+fumes permeated the ship. No attempt was made at ordinary cleanliness,
+and no disinfectants were employed. Words could hardly describe the
+appallingly filthy state of the urinals and closets. It would have been
+so very simple to have made things cleaner. A sanitary squad could have
+been arranged in a few minutes to keep these places tidy and to maintain
+some control. But what was every one’s business was nobody’s business,
+and nothing was done during the three days and nights we were at sea.
+
+[Illustration: TRANSPORT “CESTRIAN” IN THE BAY OF BISCAY.]
+
+[Illustration: THE “CESTRIAN” AT ST. NAZAIRE.]
+
+As our ship approached the mouth of the Loire we saw three large
+transports ahead of us and four more were following up behind. We slowly
+steamed through the narrow lock entrance to St. Nazaire and, after the
+usual delay in getting alongside, finally tied up to the wharf. The day
+was stiflingly hot and dusty, and we were glad to leave our ship and get
+on shore. The horses were at once unloaded, and very bad the poor beasts
+looked. It was pleasant, however, to see them, once they were on land,
+looking round and neighing with evident pleasure.
+
+The troops were marched out to a large field or a dry salt marsh some few
+miles out of town. A rest camp or camp for army details was being rapidly
+arranged, and areas were being marked out for the various units,—gunners,
+engineers, and infantry regiments, and there was considerable bustle.
+No tents had yet arrived and the camp was quite exposed. Fortunately,
+the weather was good and sleeping out was no hardship. I reported my
+arrival to the camp commandant, and he said that he did not know where
+I had to go or what I had to do. He told me to “wait round and see what
+turned up.” At this period one’s arrival was always unexpected. We always
+got a smile of welcome and were always told to “wait round.” There was
+never any demonstrative hurry. John Bull on the job doesn’t make much
+fuss. I think that he does not make enough. As there was nothing to do
+apparently, and as nobody seemed to want me, I strolled back to the city
+of St. Nazaire and had afternoon tea in a pleasant café.
+
+As I was leaving the café I met the A.D.M.S. (Assistant Director of
+Medical Services). He asked me what duty I was on. I told him that I had
+just arrived and had reported my arrival, and was really wondering myself
+why I was at St. Nazaire. The A.D.M.S. said, “We are wanting medical
+officers urgently at the front. Would you please come with me.” On our
+way to the office he explained that “the medical service had received
+some losses—casualties and missing, that there were a lot of wounded and
+a lack of hospital necessaries.” He asked me if I had any “bandages,
+wool, or lint with me.” I had none, of course, and the A.D.M.S. said that
+he had none to spare for the front. I thought of the Base Hospital on the
+_Cestrian_ landed with only half its equipment, and of what a wonderful
+nation we are, and what a magnificent organiser John Bull is when he is
+really “on the job.”
+
+I received written orders from the A.D.M.S. to proceed by train at 4 a.m.
+next day to Le Mans, and report arrival and await orders there. Le Mans
+was the “advanced base” of the British army. I learned here also that
+our gallant army was retreating towards Paris, and fighting stubbornly
+against overwhelming numbers of Germans flushed with victory, and I was
+very glad to get orders to join up with my countrymen and get a chance of
+“doing my bit” also.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+FROM THE BAY OF BISCAY TO EAST OF PARIS.
+
+
+After having received these definite orders I got my kit again conveyed
+to the _Cestrian_ transport and slept that night in my old corner of the
+smoking-room. At 2.45 a.m. the surgeons detailed to join the army were
+up. A hasty cup of coffee and an apology for a wash—and we were down
+the ship-side, and on the way to the _gare_. The railway station at St.
+Nazaire at this time looked quite picturesque in the early morning. Its
+platforms were covered with straw, and rows of sleeping French soldiers
+lay comfortably around, while a stolid Grenadier sentry stood propped
+against the wall. There is no hurry at a French military station. The
+train was timed to start at 4 a.m., but that did not matter. At 5 a.m. it
+was quite ready. “C’est la guerre.”
+
+There were five of us travelling together—all medical officers—two
+Scotchmen, one Irishman, one Englishman, and one New Zealander. A very
+gruff Railway Transport officer gave me a military pass for the party.
+This gave us permission, we noticed, to travel to Paris viâ Le Mans.
+The pass was signed by the French authorities, but we were never asked
+to show it again. The khaki uniform proclaimed we were British, the
+Sam Browne belt and stars showed we were officers, and the red-cross
+brassards on our left arms indicated our particular line of business.
+As the train moved off we wished our Railway Transport officer—an
+Englishman—a good morning, but this seemed to offend him, for he glared
+at us. Our Irish surgeon remarked that all Railway Transport officers
+were queer fish and very unpopular. Perhaps their particular specialty
+makes them so, but I have never heard an R.T.O. referred to in any
+other but denunciatory terms. A sanguinary adjective is always prefixed
+to the mystic trinity R.T.O. It is said that they lead unhappy lives
+and generally die of long, lingering illnesses. We soon settled down
+comfortably in our luxurious first-class carriage and tried to get
+to know each other. No very difficult task amongst doctors, who are
+generally most sociable animals. One of us was a specialist in fevers and
+had passed most of his days in typhoid and scarlet fever wards. One was a
+neurologist, with pronounced views on the power of suggestion in treating
+cases of incipient insanity. One was a pure physician, who said that the
+surgeons were not men of science but merely craftsmen, and were too fond
+of using the knife.
+
+The surgeons, as became their calling, treated all criticism with
+good-humoured complaisance. We talked a lot about the duties of the
+doctor in this war, and we were all very curious to know the rôle played
+by a doctor when he was attached to a cavalry regiment, to a battery,
+or to a field ambulance. None of us knew very much about it, but we
+all were agreed that we had somehow to get alongside Mr. Thomas Atkins
+when he was wounded in battle, get him to a safe place, and give him of
+our best. Curiously enough, although we were all scattered later on to
+various units of different divisions, I met all my fellow-travellers
+again one time or another in the firing line. One of the Scotchmen I met
+just as he came out from under heavy shrapnel fire, and I asked him how
+he liked it. His reply is not printable. One I met in a field ambulance
+later with sleeves rolled up and busy dressing the wounds of a crowd of
+men just brought in from the firing line. One I met in a town in northern
+France looking cold and wet and miserable, and asked him also how he
+liked the war. He gave an expressive shrug. I have not met anyone yet who
+liked the war, except artillery officers.
+
+Our train travelled slowly from St. Nazaire along the Loire to the
+capital city of Nantes. This charming city is situated on the banks of
+the delightful river. We had a lot of khaki and French soldiers on board
+the train, and as usual they fraternised well together. Tommy Atkins gets
+on amazingly well with the French piou-piou, and the French grenadier
+chaffs Tommy a lot and enjoys his company. When they get together they
+exchange caps for a time. This is a sign of unalterable friendship.
+
+To see a French Cuirassier wearing a khaki cap and a Highlander in kilts
+wearing a Cuirassier’s casque with its flowing horsetails always excited
+the merriment and loud “vives” of the French people. The kilts of our
+Highlanders are also greatly admired by the French. They were consumed
+with curiosity to know if the Scotchmen wore any trousers under them.
+Khaki was a great novelty along the Loire valley at this time, and our
+appearance roused tremendous enthusiasm and applause. At Nantes the good
+people brought us baskets of apples, and little French flags which we
+duly stuck on our coats or caps and wore till the train steamed out of
+the station.
+
+Crowds of people rushed down to the railway platform to see us and cheer
+us on our way. Tommy’s “Are we downhearted?” and its stentorian “No!” had
+a very optimistic sound, and the French liked it.
+
+At Angers the train stopped two hours, and the officers strolled round
+the town. The men were not allowed off the platform. Angers, the ancient
+capital of the old Counts of Anjou, is a delightfully sleepy city. A
+princess of Anjou was in the long ago a Queen of England, and a fine
+statue to her memory stands in the centre of the town. It was dressed
+with an intertwined Union Jack and the Tricolor when we were there.
+
+The old castle of Angers, with its deep moat and castellated towers, has
+withstood the ravages of centuries and is one of the finest examples
+of mediæval military masonry. Our walk through this city excited
+considerable comment and notice. It was Sunday, and a big congregation
+just leaving church stopped to stare at us and possibly to wonder why
+khaki was in Angers. As we passed a café crowded with loungers sipping
+wine and coffee at the little tables on the street, all stood up to
+look at us. We felt very embarrassed and did not much like the novel
+experience, so sat round a small table ourselves, and while drinking our
+wine turned round to look at the people also. A French colonel caught
+our eye, and one of our party held a glass towards him, saying, “Vive
+la France!” The effect was theatrical: all jumped up, and lifting their
+glasses shouted, “Vive l’Angleterre!” “Vive l’entente cordiale!” Several
+French officers and citizens with ladies pulled up their chairs to our
+table, and we all drank wine very sociably together. One of our party of
+surgeons had been educated as a youth in Belgium and was an excellent
+French linguist. The people were all very anxious to hear the latest
+news. We had none to give except that large British reinforcements
+were coming over, and that England was now fairly on the job. In these
+early days of the war, when everything in France was “electrical,” such
+sentiments were always cheerfully received. We drank a good many toasts
+before we left, and had our photographs taken three times. Just before
+the train started crowds of gentlemen and ladies, old and young, shook
+hands with us in the usual French way, with the left hand as often as
+the right. One beautiful and sparkling little French lady embarrassed
+one of us by a sudden warm embrace and a sisterly kiss on the cheek. The
+surprise of the khaki man was only momentary, and the lady, in return,
+was well and truly kissed on the lips. We were all sorry to leave
+Angers, the city was charming, the wine was excellent and the people
+were most entertaining.
+
+After Angers we had a long and dreary night ride to Le Mans. One curious
+incident occurred during the night. Our train was pulled into a siding
+at a small station and held there for three hours. At the end of this
+time a train, made up of forty-one huge locomotive engines, thundered by
+at sixty miles an hour going south. We were told that these were Belgian
+engines sent south to escape capture by the Germans.
+
+In the cold shiver of a dark morning we bundled out at Le Mans, and at
+once made a dash for the railway buffet and got hot coffee and rolls. I
+then found my way with some difficulty in the darkness to the quarters
+of the A.D.M.S., to whom I had to report our arrival. He was in bed when
+I arrived, but got up and took my report. As usual he was surprised to
+know we were coming, and our visit was naturally an unexpected pleasure.
+He told us that we should have gone right on to Paris, as surgeons were
+badly wanted with the army which was retreating on to Paris. We were
+always being told that doctors were urgently required and were always
+delayed. We had definite orders to get out at Le Mans and report. The
+orders were in writing. No one was more anxious than we were to push
+rapidly on, and we chafed at the continual delays. The A.D.M.S. could
+not tell us when we would be able to get away from Le Mans as the
+train service was erratic. We were advised to “hang about the railway
+station” till “some train” started for the front. As this was highly
+unsatisfactory, I tried to find out how matters stood myself.
+
+The stationmaster did not know when a train would start for Paris, as the
+line was blocked farther on by the military mobilisation. I found out,
+however, that a supply train conveying provisions and supplies for our
+men was to leave from Maroc some time during the day. Maroc was a small
+siding five miles from Le Mans. Here trains were made up for the various
+Army Corps. Maroc is a desert of sand and a truly desolate spot. We got
+our kits and a box of medical supplies—obtained with great difficulty at
+Le Mans—conveyed to this miniature Morocco, and we camped on the sand
+under the doubtful shade of the only two trees the place possessed,
+till 4 o’clock that afternoon. The only excitement was seeing a huge
+locomotive run off the track and block shunting operations for two hours.
+At last our huge supply train was ready. We all got into an empty guard’s
+van and disposed our valises in the various corners. Two officers of the
+Royal Flying Corps joined us here and found accommodation in a waggon
+loaded with bags of wheat. We all clubbed together for mess, and laid
+in a stock of sardines, bread, butter, and a dozen bottles of red wine
+and cider. We learned from our flying friends that the army was retiring
+every day, and was supposed to be making for Paris.
+
+We got some definite news for the first time of our big engagements at
+Mons, Landrecies, and Le Cateau, and how our army was furiously attacked
+and compelled to fall back, and that although the retirement at first
+was precipitate it soon became ordered and steady. We were also told that
+there were over 15,000 casualties, and that the medical arrangements had
+quite broken down. However, we had a sublime faith in our own countrymen,
+and knew that they would come out all right, somehow, somewhere.
+
+At daybreak our train reached Tours, and at Blois we had a welcome wash
+and a decent cup of coffee. Our quarters in the guard’s van had been
+most cramped and uncomfortable, and we were all anxious to leave the old
+tortoise of a train. At midday we passed through Orleans, and here French
+officers told us that the Germans were advancing on Paris, and in spite
+of prodigious losses were hacking their way through by weight of numbers
+and numberless batteries of artillery. We were told that the British army
+was to form part of the garrison of Paris, that Paris was fully prepared
+for a long siege, and that President Poincaré and the Government were
+at Bordeaux. All these rumours gave rise to keen discussions, and they
+certainly helped to while the time away in our dreary old van.
+
+During the night we passed through Paris, and at break of day pulled up
+at the railway siding of Coulommiers.
+
+The railway siding was full of ambulance trains, British and French.
+All the trains were filled with recently wounded men, and we got our
+first information that we were close to the actual scene of fighting.
+One French medical officer had rigged up a small dressing station on the
+station platform. An upturned box held his dressings, instruments, and
+antiseptics, and he had about twenty-five wounded Frenchmen all round him
+patiently waiting their turn. Most of them were slight cases, for the
+serious ones had already been put aboard the hospital trains.
+
+Coulommiers at this time was the refilling point for the Army Service
+Corps, and our supply train was emptied here.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE ADVANCE TO THE MARNE.
+
+
+Coulommiers at this time looked a little bit _dégagé_. It had been
+occupied by the Germans some days previously, and now the British had it.
+The French inhabitants were in Paris. The narrow old streets looked very
+cheerful and inviting when I passed through, for our Army Service men had
+several fires merrily blazing at the side of the _pavé_, and the smell
+of frying bacon and roasting coffee beans was inviting and appetising.
+Signs of the German occupation were everywhere apparent. Round the ashes
+of their fires in the side streets and square were the charred remains
+of old and valuable furniture—a carved leg of an old chair, a piece of
+the frame of a big mirror, a bit of a door, and so on. I think the German
+soldier enjoyed the novel sensation of cooking his food over burning
+cabinets and tables and chairs made in the times of the Louis’ of France.
+Our men were extremely careful to avoid damage to French property and
+made their fires of chopped wood logs. Tommy has good feelings and is
+always a gentleman, and he genuinely pitied the French in their despoiled
+towns.
+
+My orders were to report to the Principal Medical Officer of the 5th
+Division of the 2nd Army. I could not find out where the 5th Division
+headquarters was, but ascertained that the 2nd Army headquarters was
+at the small hamlet of Doui, three miles away. My next problem was how
+to get there with my kit. Luckily, I found a motor-car driver about to
+start for the headquarters and he offered me a lift. This driver was one
+of the many gentlemen of leisure who had volunteered for service at the
+beginning of the war. He took out his own car at first and it broke down
+during the retreat, so he abandoned it by the roadside and got another
+car, the driver of which had been killed. We set off from Coulommiers
+at a rattling pace and passed part of the 3rd Division on the way. The
+headquarters of General Smith-Dorrien, the Commander of the 2nd Army, was
+a little cluster of houses by the roadside, and when we arrived the whole
+staff were standing by the road, while the grooms stood near holding
+their horses. Smith-Dorrien with another staff officer was poring over a
+map and indicating some spot on it with his finger. The Principal Medical
+Officer, Colonel Porter of the Army Medical Staff, now Surgeon-General
+Porter, was just coming out of a cottage, and I walked up, saluted, and
+reported my arrival. The Colonel gave me a cheery greeting, asked if I
+had breakfasted, and noticing the South African War ribbon on my tunic,
+said that as I had seen service before I would soon be quite at home.
+He asked me where I came from, and when told that it was New Zealand,
+inquired if the trout-fishing was still good. New Zealand seems to be
+principally known in England for its excellent trout streams.
+
+I was then told to report to the officer commanding a section of the
+15th Field Ambulance, which was lying about 500 yards farther down the
+road. I reported to Major O—— of the Royal Army Medical Corps, who told
+me that he was waiting to evacuate some wounded to Coulommiers before
+moving up to rejoin the headquarters of the ambulance which was advancing
+with the 15th Infantry Brigade. There were sixteen wounded British in a
+small farmhouse beside the road. They were lying on straw on the floor
+and the wounds of all of them had been dressed. When I entered they
+were drinking milk supplied by the old farmer and his wife. This old
+farmhouse had been occupied by the Germans two days previously, and the
+old farmer brought me through the house to show what the Huns had done.
+His two wooden bedsteads had been smashed. All his wife’s clothes had
+been taken out of a chest of drawers and torn up, and the chest had been
+battered badly with an axe. The windows were broken and two legs of the
+kitchen table had been chopped off. An old family clock lay battered
+in a corner, and an ancient sporting gun was broken in two. The farmer
+showed me one of his wife’s old bonnets which had been thrown into the
+fire by these lovely Germans and partially burned. Fancy burning an old
+woman’s bonnet! All the fowls and chickens had been killed. Two German
+soldiers got into the fowlyard and struck all the birds down with their
+bayonets. A fine Normandy dog lay dead at the garden gate, shot by a
+German non-commissioned officer because the poor beast barked at him.
+
+The old-fashioned furniture and adornments of the house had been
+destroyed. All of the pictures were broken except two—one of these was a
+framed picture of Pope Leo XIII., and the other was one representing the
+Crucifixion. We guessed that the German troops must have been Bavarians,
+who are mostly Catholic.
+
+I have described this wrecked home as it was typical of hundreds of
+others that I have seen in France. It all seemed so stupid, so senseless,
+so paltry, and mean. Conceive the frightfulness of burning an old lady’s
+bonnet and smashing an old clock that had been in the family’s possession
+for three generations, and had ticked the minutes to the farmer’s folk
+and whose face had been looked at by those long since dead. The old
+farmer was in tears and very miserable. He said that the German soldiers
+were very drunk and had brought a lot of bottles of champagne with them,
+round which they spent a very hilarious night. One of the men had a very
+fine voice and sang a German drinking song, whilst the others hiccuped
+the chorus. There were certainly a lot of empty champagne bottles lying
+about, and I don’t think that the old farmer’s beverage ever soared above
+_vin rouge_, so the bottles must have been German loot.
+
+About eleven o’clock, while we were still waiting for returning empty
+supply waggons to take off our wounded, we heard that some German
+prisoners were being marched in. This caused some excitement, and,
+speaking for myself, I was consumed with curiosity to see some specimens
+of this great German army and observe what manner of men they were. Under
+a strong guard of cavalry three hundred prisoners with about ten officers
+were marched into a field close to our farmhouse. It was laughable to see
+our old farmer. He rushed frantically up the road, his eyes blazing with
+excitement and joy, and stood gazing at his country’s enemies with an
+expression of malicious joy and delight.
+
+I was struck with the appearance of these prisoners. They were very
+tired, absolutely done in, and marched along the road with a most
+bedraggled and weary step. Were these the men who had goose-stepped
+through Belgium’s stately capital and had pushed the united armies of
+France and England before them in one of the most rapid marches in
+history? They were utterly broken down with fatigue, and their famished
+expression and wolfish eyes betokened the hardships they had recently
+undergone. When they were halted in the field they simply rolled on to
+the ground from sheer exhaustion. On looking closer, however, one could
+see that they were fine soldiers, athletic, well-built, lean, wiry
+fellows, with shaven heads and prominent features, slim-waisted and
+broad-shouldered, clothed in smart, well-fitting, bluish-grey uniforms,
+well-shod with good serviceable boots, each with a light water-bottle
+clipped to his belt and a haversack over the shoulder; certainly no
+fault could be found with them as specimens of muscular and active
+soldiery.
+
+The officers, disdaining to show fatigue, sat by themselves in a group
+apart and smoked pipes and cigarettes. The famished men were supplied
+with British bully beef and biscuits, and buckets of water were brought
+to them for drink. They at once threw off their exhaustion and simply
+rushed the food. We realised that they had been marched to a stop, and
+that the commissariat of that particular Army Corps must have broken
+down. The augury was a good one. Amongst them were some slightly wounded
+men—principally hand, scalp, and face wounds. These we dressed, and the
+men seemed very grateful to the medical officers for what was done.
+One of my men, with a slight shrapnel wound of the wrist, after I had
+dressed and bandaged it, seized my hand and kissed it. That is the
+German way, perhaps, but un-British, and I do not love things German or
+un-British to-day. One of the men had a slight wound, but a very painful
+one owing to a small shell splinter sticking on to a nerve. Lieut. M’C——
+administered a few whiffs of chloroform while I extracted the fragment
+of iron. Poor M’C—— remarked to me that this was the first anæsthetic
+that he had administered during the war, although he had been through
+the whole retreat from Mons, and that it was for a German. I say poor
+M’C——; this splendid young doctor was killed later on in Flanders while
+gallantly attending wounded in the trenches under a hellish shrapnel
+fire. This group of prisoners belonged to the Jägers of the Prussian
+Guard, one of the best infantry units in the German Army. We were all
+very pleased that they had been bagged, and I don’t think that they
+worried much about it themselves. The officers, however, seemed very
+sullen—that also pleased us.
+
+Shortly after the arrival of the Guard Jägers some empty motor supply
+waggons, returning from the front, were stopped. We packed plenty of
+straw on them and put our wounded British and Germans comfortably on top,
+and sent them all off to the hospital train at Coulommiers. Then our
+commanding officer, Major O——, gave the order to our ambulance drivers
+to harness up the horses and prepare to trek. We knew that our army was
+making a stand at last, and that the long retreat from Belgium was over.
+
+All the morning heavy firing was heard on our front towards the river
+Marne, and we were not sure what was happening. We knew that our cavalry
+was at work somewhere, for the Guard Jägers had been bagged by our
+horsemen, but more than that we did not know. However, we were soon on
+the road, and following Napoleon’s maxim to his Generals—always to march
+on the firing. The roads were terribly dusty, the day was hot and sultry,
+and a blazing sun beat mercilessly down upon us. We all cursed our caps,
+and certainly the present khaki cap supplied to our officers and men
+deserves a curse. It gives no protection to the head or neck in summer,
+and in rainy weather it is soon soaked.
+
+Marching on foot behind lumbering ambulance waggons on a dusty road,
+and under a hot sun, is no picnic. Eyes get full of dust, throat gets
+parched, feet get hot, and the khaki uniform wraps round one like a
+sticky blanket. So for many miles we marched, and all the time the sound
+of the guns became more and more distinct and intense. We passed St. Ouen
+and by St. Cyr, and at 4.30 o’clock we seemed to be in the centre of the
+artillery thunder area. Great guns were screeching and roaring all round
+us, and some of the enemy’s shells were bursting to our left front near
+the road along which we were moving. We were then ordered to pull our
+waggons off the road and bivouac them under a clump of trees near at hand
+in order to conceal them from enemy aeroplanes, which were hovering high
+up in the blue. The reason for at times concealing a Field Ambulance is
+that when a column is on the march the Field Ambulance has a definite
+position in the column; generally it is behind the ammunition column. The
+ambulance waggons, with their big white tented covers and conspicuous red
+crosses, are often the most prominent features on the road. The enemy
+flying-man when he sees a Field Ambulance knows that there is at least a
+brigade consisting of four battalions and an ammunition column in front
+of it, and he can then direct his gunners to plant their shells in front
+of the ambulance and so get the ammunition column and the brigade. Hence
+the necessity for sometimes hiding the whereabouts of a Field Ambulance.
+
+After we had bivouacked, our section cook managed to light a fire in a
+hollow in a clump of trees, and soon brought us a much-desired mess of
+fried mutton, good bread and marmalade, and a can of tea. We rushed this
+as badly as the German prisoners did the bully beef earlier in the day.
+
+It was an odd meal, as we sat by the roadside viewing a desperate
+artillery duel, and between sips of tea snatching up field-glasses to
+gaze at the bursting shells on the ridges held by the angry Germans.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+WHAT I SAW OF THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE.
+
+
+In a battle one really sees very little and knows very little of what
+is going on, except in the near neighbourhood. The broad perspective,
+the great view of a battle, cannot be seen by one pair of eyes. This can
+only be understood and appreciated afterwards when facts and events are
+gathered together and dovetailed to form the battle story. When I was
+sitting by the roadside on this August afternoon, amidst the crashing and
+shrieking of the guns, the bursting of the shells, the furious crackling
+of the rifles, and the snarling notes of the machine-guns, I guessed that
+a battle was in progress and that we were blazing furiously at an enemy
+who was blazing furiously back at us. Beyond that, I did not know very
+much. During the night I learned a good deal more of the day’s events.
+But the whole story was not connected up till many days afterwards. I am
+quite sure that the people of London knew more about the battle of the
+Marne from the War bulletins than I did, although I was one of the humble
+units present in the actual fighting.
+
+On this sultry summer day our ambulance section was resting by the side
+of the dusty road that stretched in our rear towards Paris and on our
+front towards a lovely green valley at the bottom of which meandered the
+river Marne. It wound its sinuous way from our far right to our near
+left. Directly before us, and on the distant side of the river, was a
+steep ridge, part of a low chain of uplands which rolled hazily away to
+the right and stopped abruptly in clear-cut lines in our front. The road
+beside which we sat, dipped into the valley and crossed the river on a
+fine stone bridge and continued through the undulating country beyond
+to the north. Small villages were scattered about—Mery to the right,
+Saccy at the bridgehead, and small clusters of houses and farms on the
+countryside over the river. Some squadrons of dismounted cavalrymen
+were standing by their horses in a meadow near the bank of the river.
+These horsemen had been busy earlier in the day, and had done some hard
+riding, cutting off stragglers from the retreating German Army Corps.
+Infantry were hidden from view in the depths of the valley. Batteries on
+our left were sending a plunging fire of shot and shell on to the ridge
+and dips beyond the river, and the road leading from the bridge. With a
+field-glass, moving dots, and what looked like waggons, could be made out
+on the road and the field alongside. It was on these moving dots that our
+guns played, and cloud-bursts of earth and dust showed that our gunners
+had the range beautifully.
+
+[Illustration: AMBULANCES AT THE MARNE.]
+
+General French passed us twice in his Limousine car. General
+Smith-Dorrien passed twice—General Sir Charles Ferguson passed—all in
+motor-cars travelling like mad. Gallopers with messages spurred up and
+down the road. Guns thundered into position, unlimbered and were quickly
+in action. Infantry marching rapidly passed down the road into the
+valley where a tornado of rifle-fire was going on. One could make out
+the distinct note from our own rifles and the muffled one from the more
+distant German Mausers. Two German shells burst short of the battery on
+our left and uncomfortably close to us. We were in an odd position for an
+ambulance—in front of our own battery, which was pelting shot into the
+Germans and which a German battery was trying to locate. When the enemy
+shells fell short they fell near us. Our position, however, was a dress
+circle box seat as a view-point, so we stopped where we were. It was not
+every day that one could look on at a real live battle. Before dusk came
+on, an aeroplane appeared over the ridge flying towards us, and was shot
+at by enemy aircraft guns. The shells burst all round it, but it sailed
+triumphantly through them all, and to our intense relief landed safely in
+our lines with some valuable information.
+
+I was much interested to see our Generals on this day dashing about in
+powerful automobiles. A General is always interesting at the front, be
+he a Brigadier-General, a General of Division, or an Army Corps General.
+One gets a fleeting glimpse of a “Brass Hat” in a motor-car and asks,
+“Who is that?” Some one with a keen eye or a nimble fancy will enlighten.
+“That’s Haig, 1st Corps,” or “Smith-Dorrien, 2nd Corps,” or “Ferguson,
+5th Division.” “Wonder what’s up?” is the next usual query, for a General
+moving around means that “something’s up.”
+
+Smith-Dorrien is a General well worth seeing. It was “S.-D.” who handled
+the 2nd Army Corps from Mons during those terrible hard-fought days of
+the retreat, and he was now commanding the 3rd and 5th Divisions on this
+day on the Marne, when they forced the passage and deployed on the other
+side.
+
+When the action was at its hottest and every gun was busy, a car raced
+up from the valley in a swirling cloud of dust. The brakes were jammed
+hard down opposite us, the side door opened, and out stepped a well-knit,
+muscular, lithe figure, looking physically fit, smart, and cool in a
+well-made khaki uniform and red-banded cap. The face was a burnt-brick
+red, the moustache white, the eyes alert, wide open, and “knowing.” A
+savage, obstinate, determined chin dominated the face. It was the chin
+of a strong, stubborn nature, the chin of a prize fighter. This was
+Smith-Dorrien, the commander of the 2nd Army Corps, and at this moment
+the 2nd Corps were at grips with the enemy. With a few rapid strides he
+had reached the battery on our left, asked some question of the battery
+commander, and at once clapped field-glasses to his eyes and gazed long
+and intently at a spot on the other side of the valley pointed out to him
+by the battery commander. Our party of officers, filled with curiosity,
+also got out field-glasses and focused in the same direction. Our shells
+could be seen bursting on a far ridge, and after a long stare we managed
+to make out what we thought were some guns, but we were not sure. A few
+more words to the battery commander, a careless salute, and Smith-Dorrien
+was back in his car, which was rapidly turned and disappeared “eyes out”
+down the dusty road up which it had but just come.
+
+As the car disappeared a tremendous rifle-fire broke out all along the
+valley beyond the stream. It made one’s pulses beat with excitement.
+The 2nd Army Corps was fighting hard in the valley at our feet, and
+Smith-Dorrien was down in the valley with his men.
+
+When the devil’s din was at its loudest, another powerful Limousine
+coming from the rear pulled up opposite us. “Go on, go on,” shouted
+a voice from the inside, and the car again sped on. Inside was
+Field-Marshal Sir John French poring over a map held out with both hands
+over his knees. His car also disappeared into the valley, and we again
+surmised that there must be some big thing going on down below to draw
+thither Field-Marshals, Corps Commanders, and Divisional Generals.
+
+An hour elapsed. All of the batteries except one had ceased fire, the
+cracking of our rifles was still heavy but more distant, and now two cars
+were seen coming slowly towards us from out the valley. In the front car
+were French and Smith-Dorrien. We augured that all was well, for the
+car was proceeding slowly, and the Field-Marshal was placidly smoking a
+cigar. Our augury was correct. We had forced the passage of the Marne,
+and were grimly in pursuit of the retreating foe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE NIGHT OF THE MARNE.
+
+
+When the long day closed and darkness shrouded us all, the firing ceased
+completely, and the world felt strangely silent. The batteries limbered
+up and took the road down towards the river, and our ambulances followed
+the same way. The only sound heard was the crunching of the waggon wheels
+on the road. All else was soundless and still, a great quiet reigned
+over the valley which a short time before had been so tormented by the
+earthquake thunderings of battle.
+
+We went down deeper and deeper into the valley, and in pitch darkness
+entered the quaint old village of Saccy on the Marne. Saccy is an old,
+world-forgotten village of narrow cobbled streets and ancient stone
+houses. Situated on the south side of the bridge which spans the Marne,
+the old village has ambled sleepily through the centuries disturbing
+no one by its existence, and undisturbed itself by the big events of
+history. During the preceding forty-eight hours the old place was
+suddenly engulfed in a cyclone of movement, for a German Army Corps had
+retreated rapidly through its streets and over its bridge,—too rapidly to
+stay and sack the houses in the manner so loved by the German soldiers.
+Their big guns had hurtled their iron messengers of death over the town
+from one side of the valley to the other, and sweating, panting British
+infantry, the finest warriors in the world, had pressed steadily along
+the same streets and over the bridge so lately trod by the enemy. Saccy
+had seen two armies pass through her, and had emerged safe and unhurt.
+When our ambulances entered Saccy the narrow streets were packed and
+congested with supply waggons, ammunition carts, guns, and marching
+infantry. The dull lights from shuttered windows or an open door and
+the occasional powerful glare from a big motor headlight lit up a scene
+of cursing drivers, struggling and straining horses, heavy lumbering
+waggons, and tired, thirsty, dusty marching men.
+
+The headquarters of the 5th Division was established in a café on the
+main street, and when we passed through the staff were at dinner in the
+large front room opening on to the street. We saw plates of steaming
+potatoes, a roast leg of mutton, bottles of pickles, and many bottles of
+red wine. The headquarters’ cook was evidently a man of resource and knew
+his job.
+
+After passing through the village we turned abruptly to the right and
+then we were at the bridge, a splendidly built stone affair with a
+parapet and side walks. The bridge was fine and wide, but our crossing
+was a slow process, owing to the mass of waggons, buses, and equipment
+ahead. Some artillery and infantry had already bivouacked on the other
+side of the bridge, and their camp fires with dicksies of boiling stews
+and of coffee looked very cheerful. Some of the men were sitting or
+standing round the fires, smoking their ever-popular Woodbine cigarettes;
+others were engaged lopping off branches from the forest trees for the
+fire; many had taken off their puttees, boots, and socks, and were
+cooling their feet. They all looked very happy, and cheerfully exchanged
+compliments and remarks with the drivers of the waggons, who still had
+some miles to go before they could rest. Our ambulances were, however,
+about a quarter of a mile farther on, swung up a narrow cutting into a
+field, and here we found the headquarters of the 15th Field Ambulance,
+with seven ambulance waggons, supply carts, water carts, horses, tent and
+hospital equipment. When we joined up the unit was again complete. We had
+crossed the Marne behind the 15th Infantry Brigade, but our work was not
+yet done.
+
+It was now eleven o’clock of a pitch black night with threatening rain.
+Our ambulances were packed in a semi-circle in the field near an old
+farmhouse. A huge log fire was blazing about 200 yards away, and round
+this were sitting some of the medical officers of the ambulance and two
+chaplains. I made my bow to my new comrades and introduced myself as the
+latest medical recruit to the unit, and was given a box to sit on, and
+a cup of hot tea, bread and marmalade. All of these officers had been
+through Mons and Le Cateau, and were now veterans. One who had just come
+in from the front with some stretchers, said that our cavalry had done
+splendidly during the day, and had made a very fine charge, cutting off
+some companies of retreating infantry. Our Lancers had ridden through
+a squadron of Uhlans, turned round, and galloped through them again,
+spearing and slaying on their two bloody passages.
+
+We were in for a busy night, for all the stretcher parties from the
+various ambulances were out in the field collecting the wounded, whose
+arrival was expected now at any moment. An operating tent had been
+pitched in the field near by, and was brilliantly lit up with a huge
+acetylene lamp. The operating table was fixed in the centre of the tent
+and along each side were the instruments, basins, and dressings lying on
+the lids of the panniers, which made excellent side-tables. Very soon the
+ambulances lumbered up with the men picked up from the fields close at
+hand. The stretchers, each holding a wounded man, were taken out of the
+waggons and laid on a heap of straw near the door of the operating tent.
+Sixteen men were taken out and laid side by side. New stretchers were put
+in the waggons, which again set out to bring in more wounded. One surgeon
+stood on one side of the operating table, another stood opposite him, and
+a third surgeon was ready to assist or give an anæsthetic if necessary.
+
+Quietly and quickly one wounded man after another was lifted on to the
+table, his wounds were speedily dressed, and he was again carried out
+and laid on the straw with a blanket below and another above him. Those
+with painful wounds were given hypodermics of morphia. All who were fit
+to take nourishment had hot soup, tea, bread and jam. Stimulants were
+given freely to those requiring it. The wounds were mostly from shrapnel,
+and only one case required an anæsthetic. He had a bad compound fracture
+of the thigh and was in terrible pain. We made some good splints and
+fixed up the limb comfortably and in good position. One poor devil had
+a bad abdominal wound for which we could do nothing. He was given a
+good dose of morphia and slept quietly and easily till five a.m., when
+he ceased to breathe. At one o’clock in the morning wounded were still
+coming in, and the surgeon on duty was relieved by myself. So with coat
+off, bare arms and covered with an operating apron, I did my spell of
+surgical duty during that night on the banks of the Marne. Our stretcher
+parties at last were finished, and had all come in with the report that
+all the wounded had been brought in. They reported that there were large
+numbers of British and German dead on the roadsides and in the fields.
+At six o’clock our large list of wounded were sent off to railhead at
+Coulommiers on returning-empty supply waggons and under the charge of a
+medical officer. The operating tent was struck and all the panniers and
+equipment were packed. The Field Ambulance had done its “job.” It had
+followed its brigade into action, had collected all the wounded of that
+brigade, had dressed their wounds and made them comfortable during the
+night, and had then loaded all the wounded on waggons and sent them to
+railhead to join a hospital train. Having done this the ambulance was
+again ready to follow its brigade and do the same again. The long night
+was over and a new day was upon us.
+
+This was the only occasion on the march that our Field Ambulance had to
+pitch an operating tent in a field. Generally a house or château was
+made use of as a dressing station. The tent made an excellent first-aid
+dressing station, but of course was unsuited for any major surgical
+operation, and we tried to avoid as far as possible doing much in the way
+of surgery. We examined every wound carefully to see that no bleeding was
+taking place, and all the fractures were very carefully splintered with
+firm wooden splints. The men suffered very little pain comparatively,
+and were remarkably cheerful when they had been dressed and placed on
+the straw. They seemed anxious to talk and review the events of the
+day, and they told us great tales of the Germans running away. One man
+said that he, with his company, was in a belt of trees lying down and
+watching an open space in their front. Some Uhlans, not knowing the
+British were so close, cantered up and halted; our men took careful aim
+and emptied twenty saddles with the first fusillade, and then fired on
+the panic-stricken, terrified horses who were careering off with the
+remaining Germans; when the horses fell the riders surrendered at once.
+The man who told me the story was slightly wounded later in the day, and
+had a Uhlan helmet as a souvenir of the affray near the forest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE.
+
+
+At 7 a.m. our Field Ambulance was ready to march. Breakfast was over,
+and we stood by awaiting orders. While waiting, some of us strolled
+back towards the bridge which we had crossed the previous night. It was
+now empty of men and vehicles. The ashes of the bivouac fires and the
+lopped branches of trees were all the tokens left of the passage of a
+German and a British Army Corps. The Marne is a deep stream with a slow
+current, and is a popular boating river. Two or three boating-club sheds
+lay pleasantly situated on the banks of the stream, bowered in foliage
+and trees. Up and down the river the scene was exceedingly beautiful. It
+was curious, when standing on the bridge, to think that in the previous
+forty-eight hours the tide of war had rolled over this lovely valley;
+that artillery had plastered the landscape with shrapnel and high
+explosives, and that riflemen had lined the banks where to stand exposed
+for one minute meant instant death; that many hundreds of men had died
+and many hundreds had been wounded and crippled for life. The ambulance
+lorries climbing out of the valley to the rear with the loads of wounded
+men were the aftermath of the glitter and panoply of war, and of the
+deadly struggle in the now peaceful valley.
+
+At eight o’clock we received our orders to follow on. So “Field
+Ambulance, fall in!” and away we went on the great walk to the Aisne.
+At this time I did not have a horse. Every ambulance medical officer is
+provided with a horse; but horses were scarce just then, and with three
+other doctors I “foot-slogged” the way. It was a beautiful morning. The
+night’s rain had settled the dust on the roads, the sun was shining
+pleasantly, but drifting rain-clouds threatened a change. Major B—— and
+myself marched at the head of the column on foot. Behind marched the
+men of A Company—the stretcher-bearers and orderlies, followed by the
+six ambulance waggons of A Company. Then the men and the waggons of B
+Company, followed by the men and waggons of C Company. Water carts, kit
+waggons, supply and equipment carts, brought up the rear. Our _personnel_
+was about 250 men, and these with the waggons, carts, and horses made
+a fairly long column. Our road led in a snake-like way through the
+gradually rising uplands beyond the Marne on to the plain beyond. The
+countryside was typically French: clumps of forest were on our right,
+villages were dotted about everywhere, and there were many isolated
+farmhouses surrounded by belts of trees and orchards. The countryside
+was agricultural. The wheat and oats had been cut and newly-made stacks
+were standing in the stubble fields, and some of the fields still held
+the “stooks” of grain. About nine o’clock we came on the grim evidences
+of war. Our road led right through a country over which the Germans were
+retreating and we were pursuing. Two large motor-cars, broken down, were
+lying in a ditch beside the road. These were German staff cars. One had a
+badly burst tyre and that seemed to be all that was the matter with it.
+Farther on was a smashed French ambulance waggon, with a broken axle,
+and full of equipment and stores, abandoned by the Germans. This car had
+evidently been captured from the French during the German advance. Four
+German soldiers of the Mecklenburg Corps were lying together in a ditch.
+All had been killed by shrapnel wounds in chest and head. It seemed as
+if the four men had sat down exhausted in the ditch by the roadside and
+that one of our shrapnel shells had burst right over them, killing them
+all outright. We removed their identification discs in order that they
+could be sent to Germany later on. Close by was another dead German
+lying face downwards on the earth and with both hands extended above his
+head. Shrapnel had caught him full in the back of the neck. In a small
+clump of trees to the left of the road were two more dead Germans. One
+was lying on his back with his left hand over a wound in the chest. The
+other soldier had evidently been trying to assist him, for he had been
+kneeling on the right side of the wounded man when he too received a
+mortal hurt and fell dead across his dying comrade. His head was lying
+in a deep puddle of coagulated blood. The rifle of one lay some distance
+off, evidently violently thrown away by the first man when he received
+his chest wound. The rifle of the other soldier had been laid carefully
+against a tree within reach. The poor fellow did not reach out for it
+again. Two young Germans were found lying close together in a clump
+of vegetation. They had been sorely wounded and had crawled off the
+roadside into the friendly shelter of the trees. Left behind by their
+countrymen, grievously wounded and in dire distress, they had curled up
+together in the damp grass and died during the night. One had died from
+hæmorrhage and one from a brain injury. Another group of four soldiers
+had crawled into a ditch and were lying close together in their last long
+sleep—killed by one of our heavy shells.
+
+A small footpath at one place ran from the side of the road towards the
+gate of an orchard of apple trees. Two German soldiers were lying here
+dead, and with their rifles alongside them. One had just reached the gate
+and the other was close on his heels when a burst of British shrapnel
+stopped their further progress. Stragglers from the retreating army,
+they were making for the orchard to hide when death came suddenly upon
+them. So the grim picture went on. The German dead dotted the roadside,
+the clumps of trees, and the fields on either side. Thirty Germans were
+found killed on a small ridge to our right. Another one was found alive,
+but dying. His wounds were carefully dressed and we carried him into
+a neighbouring cottage to die. Our artillery at the Marne did deadly
+execution and our shrapnel must have made of that roadside and the fields
+alongside a perfect hell.
+
+Our gunners had got the range of the road and plastered it and the
+adjoining land with a murdering hail of lead and iron. It was curious
+to note how badly wounded men seemed to try to escape from the open and
+crawl into the shelter of a ditch or a clump of trees.
+
+A man wounded in the field would do as a wounded stag or rabbit
+would,—try for cover. Some men died after crawling away a few yards. Some
+got some distance away into the ditches and died there, a bloody trail
+marking their last painful journey.
+
+The expressions on the faces of the men were on the whole peaceful. Some
+had a look of wild surprise in their upward, staring eyes. Some looked as
+if a great fear and terror had possessed them at the last awful moment.
+The expression on the face of one finely built German officer, with a
+clean-cut intellectual face and firm jaw, was that of a sublime contempt.
+His eyes and nose and the curl on his lips betokened a contemptuous
+regard that was curious to see in a dead man.
+
+One burly young man killed by a shell wound in the abdomen had lived some
+time after having received his mortal hurt, for he had plucked some straw
+from the wheat stack near which he lay and made a pillow of it. On this
+he had rested his head. His military cloak lay over him, pulled tightly
+round his neck. There he lay with one hand under his head and resting on
+his pillow of crumpled straw, and the other hand pressed on his wounded
+abdomen as if to give it some support. He looked like a man sleeping the
+peaceful sleep of utter fatigue, and when painlessly asleep his heart had
+ceased to beat. In his haversack there was a hard sausage and a piece
+of hard white bread. His water-bottle was empty and the cork had not
+been replaced, nor had the bottle been hooked on to his belt. Wounded,
+bleeding, thirsty, and exhausted, he had slowly crept off that awful
+field into the friendly shelter of the haystack.
+
+The dead Germans were young sturdy men, strong-jawed and wiry. This was
+no canaille whom we were fighting, but a trained, determined soldiery who
+would fight hard and die gamely.
+
+Our route for the remainder of this day lay through such scenes of blood
+and devastation. We passed abandoned ammunition trains, field guns,
+saddlery, field kitchens, and war equipment of all sorts. There could
+be no doubt about the precipitate retreat of the Germans, nor of the
+tenacious and pressing character of the pursuit. Large numbers of dead
+horses littered the roadsides and fields. Some had been wounded or killed
+by our fire. Some lay with outstretched necks and open mouths, dead from
+exhaustion, and some had evidently been shot as temporarily useless by
+the Germans themselves who did not wish them to remain alive for the
+enemy. One sorely wounded horse as we passed tried painfully to get up.
+We gave him the merciful dispatch with a revolver shot.
+
+Rain fell heavily during the afternoon for about an hour and then the
+sky cleared again. Continuous heavy fighting was going on all day on our
+front and flanks, and muffled waves of artillery bursts could be heard
+from the far distance. The whole French and British Army was advancing in
+one wide semi-circle, endeavouring to “roll up” two German Army Corps.
+
+After a hard, gruelling march of twenty-two miles we reached Chiezy. It
+was then pitch dark and we were all exhausted, for we had been on our
+feet for over twenty hours, part of the time marching, and part of the
+time standing by waiting to go forward. When a column is marching along
+a road, pursuing an enemy who is every now and again making a temporary
+stand to get a brigade or a battalion out of a tight corner, the going
+is necessarily slow and there are many waits—sometimes for ten minutes,
+sometimes for an hour or more. The waits on the roadside are really more
+tiring than the steady marching. When one is “soft” and not accustomed
+to long walking, a day’s march like this proves a torture. If such a
+“tenderfoot” sat down by the wayside for a few minutes, it was almost
+impossible to get the cramped body into the erect attitude again. Towards
+the end of the long, long day, and in the darkness of the night, with
+feet swollen and sore, brain and body numbed with fatigue, one did not
+march, but only stumbled and lurched along the never-ending road like
+a drunken man. A tired brain induces muscular fatigue, and physical
+exhaustion causes mental torpor. When our ambulances pulled into the
+stubble field at Chiezy, we had lost all interest in the war, and in
+everything else on this earth except a cup of tea and a long sleep.
+
+However, certain duties had to be attended to before one turned in. The
+horses were looked after, the ambulances parked, and rations served out
+to the men. We had about twenty patients, all of them British soldiers
+with sore feet—men who had fallen out of the regiments on the march and
+had waited by the roadside for the ambulance waggons. We always ordered
+these poor devils to jump into the waggons and take off their boots and
+socks. This gave instant relief. The sores on the heels and across the
+instep were painted with iodine. In a few days the men were generally
+well and fit to rejoin their regiments.
+
+On bivouacking this night we got all these “foot birds” to wash their
+feet. This was a novel experience to men who had marched from Mons
+without a wash or change of socks. The officers’ cooks soon had coffee
+and stew ready, and our servants had spread straw on the ground, on which
+our valises were unrolled. The night was beautiful; about two miles away
+the guns were booming and the bright flashes of the bursting shells
+reminded us that war was close beside us. Without even taking off our
+boots we lay down on our valises and were asleep as soon as our bodies
+assumed the horizontal.
+
+At four o’clock next morning we were roused by the penetrating voice of
+the O.C., Major X——. “Turn out, turn out!” There was no escaping that
+voice or the caustic remarks that would be sure to come if one did not
+“turn out.” We all got buckets of water, and stripping in the open had
+a good morning bath in the buckets. It was cold, but bracing. Breakfast
+of coffee, bread, jam, and fried bacon. Day broke shortly afterwards and
+we found that we had camped on the scene of a struggle of the previous
+afternoon. Close by were a number of dead horses with their saddlery
+still on. Some newly-made graves were distinguished about 500 yards from
+our sleeping quarters. A German cavalry patrol had been bivouacked near
+a wood hard by our camping-place, and had evidently been very badly
+handled, judging by the signs of confusion, the litter left behind, the
+dead horses, the recent graves. In a small hollow I picked up a very
+fine German saddle and bit, and a good waterproof sheet. A bundle of
+letters was lying near in a small leather satchel, and on the cover of
+the satchel was stitched the photograph of a very pretty woman’s face.
+Our O.C. had been educated in Germany, and being a good German scholar
+read the letters. They were of no military importance, and had been sent
+by the lady of the photograph to the owner of the satchel—evidently
+an officer. There were congratulations about his “promotion,” and an
+earnest, loving message for his safe return.
+
+Poor devil! We surmise that he must have been a young cavalry officer in
+command of the patrol. His “promotion” was short-lived, for he lay under
+one of the new mounds of clay, and the poor lady with the charming face
+would have some very sad hours when she learned from the German casualty
+lists that “Ober Lieutenant X—— was missing.” One of our men picked up
+here a very fine pair of new German boots. As his own were a little the
+worse for wear he put on the German ones, and said that they were much
+more comfortable than the British military boot. I believe that his
+observation was quite correct. Amongst other souvenirs picked up at this
+interesting corner were a pair of field-glasses, a revolver, a good set
+of razors and mirrors, an ivory-backed hair-brush—all made in Germany.
+
+Our greatest find was yet to come. As our ambulance was getting under
+way one of our R.A.M.C. corporals hove in sight marching proudly at the
+head of eleven fully-armed German prisoners. The corporal’s tale was
+full of interest. He was searching in the wood for more “souvenirs” when
+he came suddenly upon the eleven soldiers lying together in a small
+clearing. The corporal thought that his last hour had come. All the
+tales of German atrocities he had heard unfolded rapidly in his mind,
+and when the German non-commissioned officer got up and approached him,
+speaking German, which our corporal did not understand, he thought
+that his death-sentence was being pronounced. By signs, to the utter
+amazement of the corporal, he grasped the fact that the Germans wished to
+surrender. He beckoned the enemy to follow him, and the eleven hungry,
+tired, and very dirty-looking Mecklenburghers came docilely into camp.
+Our O.C. approached them, took their rifles, and ordered them coffee,
+bully beef, and biscuits. The prisoners set to without delay, and ate as
+only hungry Germans can eat. Three of them had badly blistered feet, and
+when we marched off these were accommodated in the ambulance waggons. The
+remainder marched behind the waggons of A Company, under charge of the
+corporal who “captured” them. Later in the day we handed them over to the
+Norfolk Regiment, as it was clearly against the etiquette of war for a
+Field Ambulance to have prisoners of war. We hadn’t a gun amongst us.
+
+The capture of eleven prisoners of war by our Field Ambulance was the
+occasion for much joy to our men, and the corporal was a very proud man.
+I don’t know what the Germans thought when they discovered that they had
+surrendered to an unarmed party. The 15th Field Ambulance is so far the
+only ambulance which has taken prisoners of war, and I hope that the
+R.A.M.C. messes at Aldershot and Netley will duly treasure the fact in
+the archives.
+
+Rain fell heavily when we left Chiezy, and we were soon soaked to the
+skin. The roads were quagmires of greasy and sticky mud, heavy lowering
+clouds made everything sombre and grey, and the countryside looked
+mournful and cheerless. Mile after mile we trudged in the pitiless rain.
+I shall always remember the march from the Marne to the Aisne, for its
+wet and mud. Shortly after leaving Chiezy we came upon some gruesome
+evidences of German savagery. Near a stable built on to a farmhouse we
+saw a Frenchman lying dead across a manure heap. The top of his head had
+been blown off, and his brains were plastered over his face. The man,
+evidently the proprietor, had been shot the previous day by a German
+officer. There was an old woman at the farm, and she told us this, and
+that she had seen him fall. What was the reason for the brutal murder she
+did not know. She said that the officer and the farmer seemed to be in
+conversation near the stable, and the farmer appeared to be protesting at
+something. Suddenly the officer placed the muzzle of his revolver close
+to the farmer’s forehead and shot him. The wound had been inflicted at
+close range, and we were filled with disgust at such a callous murder.
+About a mile farther on, we met another poor devil who had been done to
+death. A middle-aged man with a bald head, bare-footed, and dressed in an
+old pair of blue pants and a cotton shirt, was lying near a plough close
+to the road. His head had been battered in, probably with the butt-end
+of a rifle, and he had been dead for about twenty-four hours. Why the
+poor wretched man had been killed we did not know. The third instance of
+this fiendish villainy I saw later on in the day at Billy. This time it
+was a young man, a mere youth, and he lay face downwards at the door of
+a cowhouse, dead from a bullet wound in the chest. I examined the wound
+with some care, and would be quite prepared to swear in any court of law
+that the man who shot him had pressed the revolver against the dead man’s
+chest when he pulled the trigger. This is the German way. These examples
+of nauseous and disgusting frightfulness amazed me. I had never before
+come up against such tragedies, and I felt an unholy pleasure that our
+big guns farther along the road were pouring shrapnel and shell amongst
+the living devils who did such things.
+
+At Billy our Brigadier-General, Count Gleichen, ordered us to bivouac for
+the night. Major B—— and I billeted in a small cottage abutting on a very
+smelly cowshed. At the cottage fire we dried our soaking uniforms, and
+dug dry underclothing out of our valises, which we spread on the kitchen
+floor and lay upon. Madame of the cottage was full of the latest war
+news. She was _très intelligente_ and very satisfied with the progress
+of the war. She told us that our advanced guard had entered the village
+only six hours behind the retreating Germans; that the Germans were in a
+great hurry and were too tired almost to march; that their officers were
+angry and cursed and struck the men who lagged behind. She also assured
+us that some Uhlans had ridden through, and that they were very drunk and
+had bottles of champagne suspended in festoons round their necks. While
+making some tea, and boiling eggs, she cheered us up with the assurance
+that the war would soon be over, for Monsieur le Curé had told her so
+himself, bless his heart.
+
+The Curé opened his church and allowed our men to carry in straw and
+sleep there for the night. This was a godsend to our men during that
+night of pouring rain, and the Curé got many a rough blessing for his
+kind act. The villagers at Billy were much heartened at seeing the
+British so close on the German heels, and one old fellow—he must have
+been a centenarian—got very drunk on the strength of it all, and assured
+us that he was a veteran of the _soixante-dix_ and had killed many
+Germans at that time. He was too drunk to remember the exact number.
+
+During the night I was awakened by a tremendous artillery fire. The
+batteries beyond the village had got the range of something and were
+giving them hot potatoes. Madame of the cottage was very alarmed, and
+thought that the Germans were coming back. Her confidence in the British
+was not as firm as she had led us to believe the previous evening.
+
+We were all out and ready to march at five o’clock next morning, but
+did not move off till seven o’clock. Rain still continued to pour down
+and we were all miserably muddy and damp. Whenever a big artillery duel
+took place heavy rain was sure to follow. This was so on the Marne and
+on the Aisne, and some one with a meteorological bent had made the same
+observations during the Peninsular War. All day long we marched or
+waited on the muddy, sopping _pavé_ with waterproof sheets tucked round
+our necks and shoulders, off which the water streamed. The advance now
+was very slow, and we were told that our men ahead were meeting with a
+more organised and steady resistance. We no longer met evidences of a
+precipitate retreat. There were no more German dead or abandoned material
+by the roadsides.
+
+At 9 p.m. in the dark we entered the doleful village of Chacrise. For
+sixteen hours we had been on our feet and had only covered about eight or
+nine miles. The soft roads, ground down by our heavy waggons and guns,
+were in a bad state, and we walked through ankle-deep mud and slush. When
+we entered Chacrise we were told that all the billets had been taken
+up. The church, the _Mairie_, the shops, and houses were all occupied
+by our soldiers. It looked as if we should have to sit all night on the
+cobble-stones of the street, and what with the darkness, the incessant
+pouring rain, and the fatigue, we were all very sorry that we had come to
+France to fight Germans. But every cloud has its silver lining. We found
+an unoccupied house down a dark alley. The windows were firmly shuttered
+and the door securely locked. The occupants had locked up their house
+and bolted when the Germans were known to be about. By a little skilful
+burglary with a jemmy we opened a window. One of us got in and opened the
+front door from the inside: very soon our cook had a fire lighted and a
+hot supper ready. We got all our men and horses under good cover, and
+our night at Chacrise, which promised so badly, turned out very happily.
+We were all given an issue of rum this night. Rum is an oily, nauseous
+drink, but given certain surroundings and a certain physical state
+it has a most excellent flavour. On the night at Chacrise everything
+conspired to make the rum very palatable.
+
+At 4 a.m. next day our never-sleepy O.C. disturbed our dreams with his
+“Turn out, turn out!” and out we turned. We had no choice when he was
+stalking round. Again we stepped out on muddy roads, and under a heavy
+downpour of soaking rain, and marching and stopping, reached the village
+of Serches on the Aisne at eleven o’clock in the morning. The rain then
+ceased and a glorious, welcome sun appeared. The whole countryside was
+bathed in a delightful warmth, and we felt glad to be alive.
+
+We were ordered to bivouac our ambulances in a field behind the village,
+and were told that the German rearguard was holding up our advance most
+determinedly along the Aisne banks, and that the enemy artillery was in
+great strength.
+
+Our march from the Marne to the Aisne was accomplished, and we now
+entered upon a new and different phase of the great war game. Our Brigade
+was in action on the Aisne banks, and we had to take up a position behind
+it and be prepared to receive its wounded and sick.
+
+The Field Ambulance with a marching army takes its number from the
+Brigade which it serves. The 15th Field Ambulance followed the 15th
+Brigade; the 13th Field Ambulance, the 13th Brigade, and so on. Four
+regiments or battalions form a Brigade, and all the other units attached
+to the Brigade, such as cavalry or ammunition columns, are also medically
+attended by the Field Ambulance attached to their Brigade.
+
+Our Brigade consisted of the Norfolks, Cheshires, Bedfords, and Dorsets,
+and the Brigadier was Major-General Count Gleichen, now a General of
+Division.
+
+It was from these regiments that we received most of our casualties on
+the Marne, on the Aisne, and later at La Bassée, and, as the following
+few notes will show, we were serving with regiments who had proved
+themselves doughty warriors in the past.
+
+The Norfolk Regiment was created in 1685 in the time of the Stuarts to
+help suppress the rebellion of Monmouth. Their badge is the figure of
+Britannia, well won, in 1707, for their gallant bearing at Almanza. This
+great regiment has done sterling service in many lands, and has as battle
+honours, Roleia, Corunna, Peninsula, Sevastopol, Afghanistan, and South
+Africa. Their nicknames are three, “The Holy Boys,” “The Fighting Ninth”
+(they were formerly called the 9th Regiment of Foot), and the “Norfolk
+Howards.”
+
+The Bedfordshire Regiment, with its badge of the united red and white
+rose, and its battle honours with the proud names, Blenheim, Ramillies,
+Chitral, was a magnificent unit in France when we joined it. The regiment
+had been raised in the last years of James II. in 1688, and from 1809
+to 1881 was known as the 16th Regiment of Foot. The nicknames of the
+regiment are “The Peacemakers,” “The Featherbeds,” “The Bloodless Lambs.”
+This regiment lost heavily at Missy on the Aisne, and at Ypres later on
+in the war it had over 650 casualties.
+
+The Cheshires, with a united red and white rose for a badge like the
+Bedfords, were raised in 1689, and were in old days the 22nd Regiment
+of Foot. Their war record includes Martinique, Hyderabad, Scinde, and
+South Africa, and their nicknames are “The Two Twos,” “The Red Knights,”
+and “The Lightning Conductors”—when marching in Ireland about fifteen
+years ago the regiment was struck by lightning. The Cheshires have
+suffered terribly during this war, and at Missy we had a number of their
+casualties to treat, and many were buried near the old village on the
+Aisne.
+
+The Dorsetshire Regiment has a proud motto, “Primus in Indis,”
+commemorating its great services in India, and the fact that it stands
+first in order of precedence amongst British regiments that have seen war
+there. The drum-major of this regiment still carries the staff of the
+Nawab’s herald on parade. It was captured at Plassey, where the regiment
+was in action under Clive.
+
+Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, Commander of the 5th Division, “particularly
+mentioned the fine fighting of the Dorsets. They suffered no less than
+400 casualties. Their Commanding Officer, Major Roper, was killed, but
+all day they maintained their hold on Pont Fixe.” Their battle story is
+a great one, and includes Plassey, Albuera, Vittoria, Sevastopol, and
+Relief of Ladysmith. The 1st Battalion was raised in 1702. The “Green
+Linnets” is their nickname.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE AISNE AND THE TRAGEDY OF THE SUNKEN ROAD.
+
+
+On arriving at Serches on the Aisne our ambulance pulled off into a
+sloping grassy field, and the tired horses were taken out, fed, and
+rubbed down. Fires were lit and we all prepared to enjoy ourselves by
+resting in the glorious sun’s rays, washing, shaving, and smoking a pipe
+in comfort. For the past few days we could not smoke in the open owing to
+the rain.
+
+A tremendous artillery engagement was going on at the front. Our
+batteries were posted behind a long ridge not far from where we were,
+and every gun was in action, making the air resound with the bursting
+charges. It was not by any means a one-sided affair, as we were soon to
+know. The enemy were firing from a ridge on the other side of the river,
+and they had got our positions very accurately. At one o’clock a Taube
+flew over our position and dropped three bombs. Two fell near us with a
+terrible clatter, one on the road to our left down which we had come, and
+one about 400 yards behind us in a belt of trees. The third one actually
+fell in our field, and plunged itself angrily into the soft turf. Our
+position was obviously not a safe one for a Field Ambulance, and we got
+orders to retire two miles farther back. We did not move off, however,
+till 5 p.m.
+
+[Illustration: HALT AT SERCHES.]
+
+Major B—— and I walked through the village of Serches and turned up the
+road leading to the right behind a steep ridge which flattened out into
+a plain of about one to two miles’ width. This plateau fell abruptly
+on its northern side right on to the Aisne River. When climbing up
+this road, which led to the summit of the ridge, we passed numerous
+stretcher-bearers bringing in wounded to the 13th Field Ambulance,
+which was also quartered in the village. The men with slight hand or
+head wounds were walking, and the serious cases were on stretchers. The
+Germans had got the range of the ridge summit towards which our road led,
+and were freely plastering it with shrapnel and Black Marias.
+
+On approaching the top of the rise we saw two of our batteries on our
+right, and three on our left well forward in the plateau, and busily
+engaged. Our guns at this date were not concealed from inquisitive
+Taubes by trees and foliage—that lesson had not yet been learned by the
+conservative Briton. German shells were bursting on the ridge in good
+line for our guns, but about a quarter of a mile short. Our road now
+took a direct turn for the far side of the plateau, and here it went
+through a deep cutting down to a bridge which spanned the river. On the
+left-hand side of the road at the cutting there was a large gravel pit
+or cave where road-metal was obtained. The road across the plateau was
+open and exposed, but from the cutting to the banks of the river it was
+lined with pine trees. Major B—— and myself were standing on the road
+at the top of the ridge trying to make out the German positions with
+our field-glasses. A gunner officer, seeing the red-cross brassards on
+our arms, hurried up and said, “You are urgently wanted in the sunken
+road about a mile and a half down. Two doctors have just been killed and
+there are a lot of badly wounded on the road.” We had no dressings of
+any sort with us. We had come thus far out of curiosity, not expecting
+that it was such a “hot corner.” We, however, went forward at the double
+along this exposed road, passing upturned waggons, dead and dying horses,
+khaki caps and overcoats, overturned and smashed water carts. Out of
+breath, we reached the cave and found how urgently necessary we were.
+The scene defied description. The cave was a shambles of mangled forms.
+Nineteen wounded men were lying in the loose sandy gravel, having just
+been brought in by their surviving uninjured comrades. One was on the
+point of death from a shrapnel wound of the brain—the bullet had passed
+through the orbit. There were fractured limbs, shrapnel wounds of the
+chest, abdomen, and head, shell wounds and concussions. We did all we
+possibly could with first-aid dressings. We got the uninjured men to take
+off their puttees, and these we used as bandages; rifles were employed
+as splints for the lower limbs, and bayonets for the upper limbs. One
+poor officer, Captain and Quartermaster M——, an old soldier with two rows
+of ribbons on his coat, had a badly shattered thigh and knee. He was
+suffering tortures, and his anguished face showed the strong efforts
+he made to control himself. Lieut. W——, R.A.M.C., a civil surgeon, had
+a smashed ankle-joint. We sent at once for ambulances and stretcher
+parties. These soon arrived, and the terribly wounded men were conveyed
+to the Field Hospital which had just been arranged at Serches.
+
+Poor Captain M—— died that night, and was buried near a stone wall in the
+garden at the old farmhouse of Mont de Soissons, and the doctor had to
+have his leg amputated later. He was a very plucky man. Even when wounded
+and lying in helpless pain, he gave instructions about the other wounded
+men.
+
+After the wounded were sent away I walked a few yards down the road to
+the place of the disaster. Here was a scene of ghastly horror. On the
+road lay mangled and bleeding horses, dead men lying in all sorts of
+convulsed attitudes, upturned waggons, smashed and splintered wood.
+Add to this the agonised groans of our wounded men, the shrill scream
+of dying horses, and that impalpable but nevertheless real feeling of
+standing in the face of the Creator—one can, perhaps, then feebly picture
+this scene of carnage, of the solemnity of death, and of the pitiless
+woe of this devastation. Where could one find here a trace of the glory,
+pomp, and magnificence of war?
+
+The story of the incident is one not uncommon. A party of men of the West
+Kents were sitting by the roadside beyond the cutting, having a meal of
+bully beef and biscuits. As they were eating, a cavalry ambulance came
+up from the bridge over the Aisne. When the ambulance was abreast of
+the West Kents, a German battery landed a Black Maria on the ambulance,
+and at the same moment shrapnel burst right amongst them all. The heavy
+explosive and the shrapnel did terrible execution. Captain F——, R.A.M.C.,
+was killed outright, the other doctor was badly hurt. Eight men of the
+West Kents met instantaneous death; eight horses were killed, and three
+horribly mangled and flung off the road by the violence of the explosion.
+On examining these dead men on the road it was noticeable that they had
+all received a multiplicity of wounds. One man, a burly sergeant-major,
+had a big hole in his head, another huge hole in his neck, a lacerated
+wound of the chest, and one boot and foot blown completely away. All had
+widely open staring eyes. The expression seemed to be one of overwhelming
+surprise and horror.
+
+Poor fellows! Their moment of surprise and horror must indeed have been
+brief, for death is dealt out at these times with a lightning flash.
+
+[Illustration: GUN TEAMS AT THE MARNE.]
+
+[Illustration: THE WAY TO THE SUNKEN ROAD.]
+
+In describing events in this war one unconsciously has to turn to
+superlatives. “Devilish, hellish, bloody, awful, and terrible” are words
+that come most trippingly to the tongue. This war is superlative in
+all its moods and tenses. Superlative in the number of men engaged, in
+the extent of the battle front, in the duration of the battles, in the
+misery it is causing and has caused, in the awful loss of life, in the
+mutilating wounds caused by the shrapnel, in the number of the missing,
+in the atrocities, inhumanities, and blasting cruelties of the enemy,
+and in their wanton destruction of all that is sacred and revered.
+
+    “Few few shall part
+    Where many meet.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+MISSY ON THE AISNE.
+
+
+We left Serches at 5 p.m. and retraced our road for about two miles till
+we reached the ancient Château-farm of Mont de Soissons. This historic
+farm was our headquarters during September and till the date we left in
+October 1914, and it was during this eventful period that all the great
+stirring events “on the Aisne” took place. “On the Aisne,” how much of
+tragedy and pathos, of great deeds, of gallant deaths, stubborn fighting,
+and indomitable courage are associated with those words?
+
+On the night after our arrival at Mont de Soissons, the ambulance
+officers were sitting about eleven o’clock round a table in the
+old dining-room of the Château, when an urgent order arrived from
+headquarters to send doctors, stretcher-bearers, and ambulance waggons
+with equipment to Missy. The orders were for the ambulances to get to
+Missy in the dark, pick up the wounded, and at all costs to come out
+again in the dark. To get to Missy, which was situated on the far side
+of the Aisne, we would have to cross the river, and,—reading between the
+lines of this definite order to get in under cover of darkness and get
+out again in the dark,—one could see that our night ride was to be a
+somewhat perilous one.
+
+Section C, the section to which I was attached, was ordered to undertake
+the task, and at twelve o’clock, on a pitch-dark rainy night, our section
+was ready to move off. We had five waggons, with the complete _personnel_
+of one section. Major B—— was in command, with Lieutenant I—— and myself
+as the other medical officers, and with us Monsignor, the Catholic
+chaplain attached to our field ambulance, also came as a volunteer.
+Monsignor was the salt of the earth, and whenever he thought that he
+could be of service to our wounded men he was there. There was no demand
+on him on this wild rainy night to leave the comfortable shelter of the
+farmhouse and voyage out towards the enemy lines; but he had a strong
+sense of duty, and behind the priest there was more than a _soupçon_ of
+the knight-errant, who warmed at the thought of a dangerous adventure.
+
+We were not permitted to light our waggon lamps, and in the darkness
+we rumbled off, anxious not to lose any time over our mission, and if
+possible complete it under cover of darkness.
+
+Misfortune dogged us from the start. We had but one map; and as nobody
+could give us any directions, that was our only guide. We mapped out the
+route, Mont de Soissons to Serches—Serches to Venizel on the banks of the
+Aisne, where was the bridge by which we were to cross the river—Venizel
+to Bucy le Long, and thence to Missy. Altogether, we reckoned that we had
+7 or 8 miles at least to go; but it proved to be a “long, long way to
+Tipperary.”
+
+After being five minutes on the march we discovered that we were on the
+wrong road, and it took twenty minutes to turn the waggons on the narrow,
+muddy _pavé_ and get on again. Passing through Serches, we turned to the
+left and followed the road through a valley leading to the banks of the
+Aisne. Here again we were nearly off on a wrong road, and lost about
+another twenty minutes righting ourselves. The country was intersected
+with roads not indicated on our map. We now got on to a narrow road
+dipping sharply down towards a clump of trees, and here one of our
+waggons slipped over the embankment, and one of the horses was killed. We
+could not get the waggon up again, so abandoned it and pushed on with our
+remaining four waggons, water cart, and supply waggon. The loss of this
+waggon was a serious blow to us, as events will show.
+
+As we entered the forest we were challenged by a sentry of the Cameron
+regiment, who passed us on. A Cameron officer met us here and told us
+that we were going into a bad place, as late that afternoon he had lost
+some men from shrapnel at the very spot where we then were. Progress was
+very slow for the next 500 yards, as the road was barricaded with felled
+trees, and trenches had been dug alongside. After negotiating this nasty
+corner we got on quickly to Venizel.
+
+We reached Venizel right on the banks of the Aisne, and learned to our
+chagrin that the fine stone bridge had been destroyed by the German
+artillery that day. The engineers with superhuman energy had just about
+completed a pontoon bridge. We were kept waiting here for an hour. Then,
+one waggon at a time, we got across. The bridge was very doubtfully lit
+at either end by darkened lanterns, and one seemed to be very close
+to the swift current of the Aisne, already in flood. At the far side
+of the bridge our progress was again very slow for some time, as we
+had to meander gingerly between the trenches dug for the men who were
+holding the bridge-end. As we left the pontoon an optimistic engineer
+lieutenant, in clothes dripping with water, cheerfully called out “Good
+luck. Hope you get back all right.” In reply we warned him that he would
+get pneumonia if he didn’t change his clothes, and that it was foolish to
+take baths in the Aisne with a uniform on.
+
+Our road lay now along a flat plain, curving to the right. The night was
+very dark and ominously silent. Our men were forbidden to talk or smoke
+cigarettes, as we were approaching the enemy lines. Reaching Bucy le
+Long, we inquired the way from a Scottish officer who was standing near
+a stone well on the village street. All his men were alert and under
+arms and expecting an attack at any moment. The officer, speaking with
+the good Doric accent, indicated our way and told us to hurry on and get
+under cover, as Missy was very “nasty” just then and they expected a
+German attack.
+
+We realised by this time that we might get into Missy in the dark, but by
+no possibility could we bring the wounded out in the dark; and by the
+serious preparations for repelling an attack in the village street we
+knew that we could not get out in daylight. It looked as if we were soon
+to be in the thick of that most sanguinary of all forms of war—street
+fighting.
+
+So on we went, and after taking another wrong turn and losing another
+half-hour we got on to a straight road leading direct to Missy. It was
+extraordinarily difficult to find one’s way, as the night was dark and
+everything was strange and unfamiliar. There seemed to be hundreds of
+roads, and the greatest care had to be exercised; for a wrong turning
+would land us very speedily in the German lines, and none of us wished
+our expedition to end in an inglorious pilgrimage to Germany.
+
+As the first doubtful streaks of dawn appeared we reached Missy.
+
+The main street of the village was full of men of the Norfolks and
+Cheshires, all up and armed, and awaiting the Germans. There had been a
+very hot skirmish outside the village on the previous afternoon, and the
+Norfolks and Cheshires had lost heavily. It was the wounded from this
+mêlée that we were to get to. A cheery Norfolk sergeant directed us down
+a small lane to the right of the street, telling us that there were a
+lot of badly hit men somewhere at the bottom of the lane. The lane was
+too narrow to admit of our ambulances, so they were parked in front of a
+baker’s shop and the horses were taken out. We hurried down the lane and
+found the wounded men.
+
+Dawn was breaking and shafts of grey light and shadow were thrusting
+through the darkness. Then, like a clap of thunder, the German batteries
+opened up, and from that moment till nightfall we lived through one of
+the most hellish artillery duels that any mortal man could imagine. A
+tornado of shot and shell swept across that beautiful Aisne valley.
+It seemed as if all the fiends of hell were let loose. The noise was
+deafening, ear-splitting, the bursting of the shells, the mighty
+upheavals of earth where the shells struck, the falling trees, falling
+masonry, crashing church steeples, the rolling and bounding of stones
+from walls struck by these titanic masses of iron travelling at lightning
+speed, the concussion of the air, the screeching, whisking, and sighing
+of the projectiles in their flight, made an awful scene of destruction
+and force. Add to all this the snarling, typewriter note of the Maxims,
+the angry phut of the Mauser bullet as it struck a house or a gate,
+and the crackling roars from our Lee-Metfords—truly it was the devil’s
+orchestra, and the devil himself was whirling the fiery baton. The
+steeple of the village church was struck fairly by a German shell, and
+with a mighty crash the stones were hurled madly on to the road down
+which we had but just passed, and killed one of our horses. Another shell
+plunged right into the old church and sent its roof in a clattering hail
+over the surrounding houses. A stone house at the top of our alley-way
+got another shell and was levelled to the ground, killing two women who
+were inside. The corner of the building in which we were located was
+struck by a passing shell and a huge hole was ripped out of the solid
+masonry. Shrapnel burst over the house, in the garden in front, on the
+doors of the house, on the roof, and down the alley. Our red cross flag
+and Union Jack were badly holed with shrapnel. At the kitchen door a
+large piece of shell fell, sending mud and gravel against the windows
+and into the room. A railway line ran past the foot of our garden, and
+stretching from this railway line to the banks of the Aisne in the
+distance was a wide grassy meadow on which some cows were grazing. A
+thicket of tall trees, surrounding a small farmhouse, was situated to the
+right of the meadow. This house was the headquarters of Count Gleichen,
+the commander of the 15th Brigade. The Germans evidently were aware of
+this fact, for the first shots they fired at break of day were at this
+house. We could plainly see one shot fall short of the house, but in
+a straight line for it. The second shot we thought had really got the
+house, but fortunately this was not so. It landed near the door, as we
+learned later. After this shot the headquarters galloped off as hard
+as they could go, and the enemy tried to reach them with shrapnel, but
+without success. Alongside the railway line there was a line of trenches,
+and every inch of that line seemed to have been covered during the day by
+the German fire. Their artillery practice was perfect, and at this period
+of the war the enemy artillery mightily outclassed ours. Our guns from
+the ridge on the other side of the Aisne made but a feeble reply to the
+terrific German bombardment.
+
+Now for the story of our wounded at Missy. When we got down our alley at
+dawn on this eventful morning we found eighty-four grievously wounded
+men. In a little stone fowlhouse to the left of the alley, fourteen men
+were lying packed close together. There was no place to put one’s foot
+in trying to walk over them. To the right of the alley a gate opened
+into a gravel yard of a fine two-storied stone house, a very old and
+solidly built building. The house formed three sides of a square; a
+beautiful flower garden with a rose pergola formed the fourth side.
+The gravel yard was in the centre. The lower story of this building,
+with the exception of the kitchen and an adjoining room, consisted of
+stables, granaries, saddlery rooms, and coachhouse. Lying on the floors
+of the stable, kitchen, etc., were wounded men. They had all been wounded
+the previous evening in an attack on the enemy concealed in a wood.
+The wounded in the small fowlhouse were carried, under shrapnel fire,
+across the alley to the big house and placed in the room adjoining the
+kitchen and in the saddlery room. The cooks made up a big fire and soon
+had hot water boiling. The three medical officers were soon rapidly at
+work. The first case attended to was that of a young soldier of the
+Norfolks who had been struck by a shell in the abdomen. His intestines
+were lying outside the body, and loops were inside the upper part of
+his trousers. Under chloroform we did what we could. He died painlessly
+four hours afterwards. There were many bad shell wounds of the head; one
+necessitating a trephining operation. One poor fellow had his tongue
+half blown off. The loose bit was stitched on. The compound fractures
+were numerous and of a very bad type, associated with much shattering
+of the bone. Four men died during the day, but our arrival and timely
+help undoubtedly saved many men. We made the poor fellows as comfortable
+as we could, and we were incessantly busy from the moment we entered
+this blood-stained place. I personally shall never forget the sight
+of these poor, maimed, bleeding, dying and dead men crowded together
+in those out-houses, with not a soul near them to help, and I am more
+than thankful that I was privileged to be of service and to employ my
+professional skill to help them in their dire hour of need. We knew that
+we were in a tight corner. We expected that at any moment we would be
+all blown to pieces; we did not know how we were to get these men back
+to our own lines; but we knew also that whatever happened we would stand
+by our helpless countrymen to the last, and if we failed to get them
+safely back it would not be our fault. I mentioned previously that when
+our ambulance got orders to go to Missy, Monsignor, the Roman Catholic
+chaplain, volunteered to come with us. It is difficult to attempt to
+write of our brave Monsignor. He was the bravest of the brave. When the
+three medical officers were working hard with the wounded—dressing,
+operating, anæsthetising—Monsignor was very busy too. He made hot soups,
+hot coffee, prepared stimulating drinks, set orderlies to work to see
+that every man who could take nourishment got it. One man injured in
+the mouth could swallow only with the greatest difficulty. Monsignor
+patiently sat by this man, and one way or another with a spoon managed
+to give him a pint of hot Oxo soup and a good stiff nip of brandy. This
+splendid prelate carried straw with his own hands and made pillows and
+beds for our men. He took off boots and cut off bloody coats and trousers
+in order to help the work of the surgeons. He rummaged in a cellar in
+the house and discovered a box of apples. These he cut into slices for
+our men. He stood by our dying men and spoke words of cheer and comfort
+to the poor helpless fellows. He was absolutely reckless about himself.
+Exposed to shrapnel and shell fire many times during the day, he was too
+busy attending to the wounded to think about anything else. Towards dusk,
+when our work eased off, we collected some pieces of shell which fell
+near him—as souvenirs. I looked at Monsignor many times during the day,
+and was struck with his expression of content and his happy smile. He was
+exalted and proud and happy to be where a good priest,—and what a good
+priest he was!—could be of such great service. I am not a Catholic, but
+I honour the Church that can produce such a man as Monsignor, and I very
+greatly honour Monsignor.
+
+As darkness came on the hellish artillery fire quietened down and then
+ceased altogether. The rifle-firing continued intermittently for a little
+while longer and then it too ceased. We were now “up against” the last
+and greatest trial of all—the evacuation of our wounded. During the day
+some more wounded men had crawled into us, and we had now 102 men to
+bring back to our lines. We managed in the darkness to get two large
+French country carts to act as ambulances. Our four ambulance waggons
+were, of course, not enough, and even with the help of the country carts
+we could not accommodate 102 wounded men. Every man wounded in the head
+or arms who could walk, was told off to march with our stretcher-bearers.
+We packed the wounded lying-down cases into the ambulance waggons and
+on to the country carts. Plenty of straw had previously been placed in
+these latter. We were compelled to load up our waggons and carts far too
+heavily, but our position was a serious one; we had to get the wounded
+out somehow, and we had no one to help us. Our troops had retired from
+Missy during the day and we were left all alone in front of the Germans
+and quite at the mercy of their guns. The _via dolorosa_ of our sorely
+wounded was on this night a very pitiable one. Exposed to rain, lying in
+the utmost discomfort, compelled to keep for hours a cramped position,
+they deserved our pity. The wounded men who had to march were also in a
+sorry plight. These poor fellows were not fit to march; weak with shock,
+pain, and loss of blood, they ought all to have been in bed; yet they had
+to march, for we could not leave them behind.
+
+At last all was ready to start. Strict orders were given against lights
+and cigarettes. No talking was allowed, for the Germans were just “over
+the way,” and they are people with “long ears.”
+
+Before setting out we buried four officers and five men in a grave by
+the railway, near the bottom of the garden. This mournful duty over, the
+ambulance moved off.
+
+This time we anticipated no delay, as we knew the road—vain hope. The
+night was again very dark, and a drizzle of rain was falling. We had just
+emerged from the silent village on the road to Bucy le Long when the
+inky blackness of the night was cut through by the powerful beam of a
+searchlight played from the German lines. The light swept slowly up and
+down our column in a zig-zag wave once, and then a second time, this time
+more slowly still. Every detail was illuminated with the brilliant glare.
+The light was then fixed ominously on our front waggon, which had a big
+red cross painted on its canvas sides. The column kept moving slowly on,
+but for ten minutes that sinister, baleful light played all round the
+first ambulance. We all thought that our last hour had come—that after
+going through such a hellish day in the farmhouse at Missy we were to be
+finally scuppered on the muddy road. We knew that the Germans were only
+about 800 yards away. With strained nerves we waited, expecting them to
+turn a machine-gun on us. The searchlight played up and down the column
+once more and then was turned in another direction. My impression is that
+the Germans made out the red cross on the leading waggon and so let us
+pass. If they wished they could have destroyed us easily. We all breathed
+again and continued on our way. After passing through Bucy le Long,
+where we again saw our soldiers, we came across some returning-empty
+motor lorries. We placed all our marching wounded on to these and eased
+off the pressure in the country carts by taking off a few men. At Venizel
+we were held up for five hours. The pontoon bridge had given way during
+the day under the weight of a piece of heavy French artillery. The gun
+had been fished out from the bottom of the Aisne with great difficulty,
+but the horses were drowned. The Engineers were straining every nerve
+to repair the bridge. It was vitally important to hurry, as this bridge
+was the only artery of communication between our advanced troops and
+the ammunition supplies. At last we got across and reached Mont de
+Soissons, our ambulance headquarters, at nine in the morning. The wounded
+were handed over to the other medical officers. Men and officers were
+completely done up. We had been marching during two anxious, harassing
+nights, and had lived through a bad day, but—we got out our wounded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ON THE AISNE AT MONT DE SOISSONS.
+
+
+Our Field Ambulance headquarters at the Château-farm of Mont de Soissons
+was occupied by us till October. During this time our army was fighting
+hard. Most of the days were rainy, and the trenches on the other side of
+the river suffered from this. To our right was Braisne on the river, and
+to our far right was Reims. To our left was Soissons—about eight miles
+away. We were about fifty-eight miles from Paris.
+
+Our billet was a good one. Imagine a huge hollow square surrounded by
+stone buildings, and the square itself filled with an enormous manure
+heap. One side of the square was taken up by the two-storied old stone
+building containing kitchen, hall, sleeping-rooms, and offices. Stables
+for sheep, cows, and horses formed two sides. The fourth side was a truly
+beautiful and artistic one. It was formed by a wonderful old chapel, and
+remains of what was part of the refectory and cellars of a monastery.
+These buildings were in a splendid state of preservation, and were now
+used to hold straw and cattle fodder. The chapel had been built by the
+Knights Templars, and was in its day a place of renown. It is indeed a
+pity that such historic buildings are so neglected and forgotten. In
+the lofts of the dwelling-house and in a shed outside we put our sick
+and wounded men. In a bedroom downstairs we put the wounded officers. We
+were principally concerned at this time in the transportation of sick and
+wounded to railhead. Although we were at headquarters of an ambulance,
+no preparation or effort was made for any special treatment. Very few of
+our cases remained more than twelve to twenty-four hours. Motor lorries
+arrived at Mont de Soissons every morning, and on these our men piled
+straw and placed the men, covering all with a huge tarpaulin cover raised
+tent fashion on upright sticks. This method of transporting wounded was
+crude and brutal. There were no motor ambulances at this time. The first
+motor ambulance arrived after we had been ten days at Mont de Soissons.
+Why motor ambulances were not with us from the beginning of the war is a
+question which the Army Medical Department will have to answer when the
+war is over, and the necessary public washing-day arrives.
+
+Several wounded men and officers died at Mont de Soissons and were
+buried in the garden alongside a stone wall. Wooden crosses mark each
+grave-head, and two of them have stone crosses erected and engraved
+by one of our orderlies. And the women of the house and neighbourhood
+attend to the graves, and place flowers on them. It is beautiful to see
+how reverently the French women look after our soldiers’ graves. The old
+lady—the owner of this farm-château—has the names and dates of burial of
+all officers and men interred in this garden, and the relatives of these
+dead heroes will be able one day to visit this quiet corner of a garden
+in France and will see how beautifully the graves have been tended by the
+simple, kindly French peasant women.
+
+[Illustration: MONT DE SOISSONS, SHOWING THE OLD TEMPLARS’ HALL AND
+CHURCH.]
+
+Our life at this place was full of interest. In front of us were our own
+batteries, behind the ridge; then beyond was the river, and beyond that
+our advanced troops in the trenches. To our left, the French occupied
+Soissons. The French artillery was continually in action, pounding on
+every day _sans cesse_ and generally also through the night, and it was
+excellent and well served; but our guns were silent most of the day. At
+eleven o’clock in the morning they would open up and leisurely plunge
+their shot across the valley at Fort Condé for half an hour; then remain
+silent till four or five in the evening, when another bombardment would
+commence and continue till dark.
+
+Occasionally they seemed to wake up and become very angry, and on
+these occasions would bark and roar and screech for a couple of hours.
+The Germans never refused an artillery duel, and when our batteries
+seemed to wake up the Germans did too, and hurtled across their shot
+at a tremendous pace. The Germans at this time wasted an enormous lot
+of ammunition, but they nevertheless were extraordinarily formidable
+and effective with this arm. There was a small embankment outside our
+farmhouse, and this was a box seat _de luxe_ every afternoon from four
+till half-past six o’clock. On our right, stretching on to Reims, and on
+our left towards Soissons, the artillery, German, French, and British,
+was then at its best. Sometimes the sound would be deafening all along
+the line, sometimes it would concentrate itself in our particular corner.
+Directly opposite us, on the far side of the river at Fort Condé, the
+Germans had a very strong artillery position. Their guns there outranged
+ours at first, and used on fine evenings, at the usual concert hour,
+to give us some splendid exhibitions. First would come one shot to the
+right, and then one to the left. Then four flashes of yellow flame
+followed by huge cascades of earth would appear to strike the same
+spot, and a few seconds after the dub-dub-dub-dub of the explosions
+would reverberate and re-echo across the hills and valleys. They would
+sometimes pick out one particular area of ground on our front and simply
+cover every yard of it with bursting shells. At other times they would
+plant a line of shells right across a particular place. Again they seemed
+sometimes to go “shell mad,” and would wildly send shells to all points
+of the compass. In the darkness of an autumn night the bursting of the
+shells was a terribly magnificent sight. We could see our shells, and
+especially the French shells, burst over the German positions. The French
+artillery always excited our admiration. The great guns, the men, the
+rapidity of fire, the noise, and the terrible bursting charges were all
+wonderful. No wonder France is proud of her big guns and her splendid
+gunners.
+
+About ten o’clock in the mornings we frequently were surveyed by Taubes.
+Many of them were most daring. They were always pursued by our men and
+the French; and wonderful pursuits and flights were witnessed. Two of our
+aeroplanes often started together after a Taube. One would fly directly
+for the enemy craft, and one would circle into the upper blue and try to
+get above it. We were told that they used to fire at one another with
+carbines, but we never could hear the shots or see any smoke. The Taube
+always made off. Sometimes a Taube would be up alone, and after hovering
+and circling over our gun positions would make a sudden dash to directly
+above a battery, drop a smoke signal, and fly away; this signal would
+be rapidly followed by some German shelling. The greatest spectacular
+effect of all was to watch the German shots from their anti-aircraft
+guns bursting round our aeroplanes. It was like pelting a butterfly
+with snowballs. We could see the burst and flash long before the sound
+reached us. The bursts produced white and black smoke balls, the black
+one appearing a little higher and later than the white. The white smoke
+balls unrolled themselves into a curious shape, very like a big German
+pipe. There was a huge bulb and a long, curling, thick stem. We stood
+often with “our hearts in our mouths” expecting that one of our daring
+flyers had been hit. Smoke-bursts would appear below, above, and round
+the craft, and then one shot would seem to actually hit it. But no; a
+minute afterwards we could make out the little machine flying higher or
+emerging swaggeringly from the midst. We watched our own bursts round a
+Taube with a different spirit, waiting eagerly for the _coup de grâce_,
+and having no humane thoughts for the daring pilot. One afternoon we were
+certain that a Taube had been struck, for one burst appeared to be right
+on, but when the smoke cleared away the Taube was still going merrily.
+Then it began to slowly descend, then ascend again, and then suddenly
+plane away to our right. From the last shot she really had “got it in the
+neck,” as Tommy Atkins puts it, and the machine plunged down behind the
+French lines. The pilot was killed, the observer got a fractured spine,
+and was dragged out of the wreckage—paralysed.
+
+On the 19th September, orders from General French were read out
+congratulating the British troops upon their valour and tenacity at the
+Marne, and commending their courage on the Aisne. We were assured that by
+holding on to our present positions the enemy would be forced to retire.
+
+On one Sunday, service was conducted by Monsignor, our Catholic chaplain,
+for Catholic soldiers, in one of the stable lofts at the farm. The
+preacher and the men had to climb up a ladder placed on the outside of
+the building, and get into the loft through a small door. The ladder
+was a crazy affair, but Monsignor tested it by going up first. He was a
+light-weight and very active, but a burly Falstaffian sergeant looked
+very hesitatingly at it, and it certainly creaked and bent considerably
+as he slowly mounted. The loft was packed with men, and we heard
+afterwards that the floor was not meant for a heavy weight. We were
+relieved to learn that there were no casualties at the service, and that
+Monsignor and his flock had not gone through the floor and startled the
+horses underneath.
+
+I spent one forenoon in an advanced artillery observation post, and tried
+to make out the German positions through a telescope. We could make
+out some white waggons moving on a road far off, but they were out of
+range. The observation officer got to his post by walking up a cutting
+and then crawling into a hole, and there he stood for hour after hour
+patiently watching the other lines, while his sergeant sat close by, well
+concealed, and with a telephone receiver over his head. Any observations
+of importance were ’phoned back to the battery. These observation posts
+were dangerous “spots,” for they were well within the reach of enemy
+shells and afforded very little cover. The observation officer here was
+an enthusiast, and I think he was familiar with the outline of every tree
+and rock on the other side. It requires some practice to be really expert
+with a telescope. General officers occasionally came up to talk to our
+observer and peer at the opposite ridge. I met this artillery observation
+officer later on in the north of France, and this time he was a patient
+in hospital with a scalp wound. He had been in a house well in advance
+of our own advanced line, and had made a small hole in the roof through
+which he obtained a good view of the enemy dispositions, and directed
+the fire of his battery. The German is a wily man, and evidently did not
+like the position of this house, for he shelled it out of existence. I
+was glad that the major got out with nothing more than a scalp wound,
+for good artillerists are worth much to our army to-day. Our artillery
+officers seem to enjoy war more than any other branch of the service.
+This major told me that one day his own and a French battery got fairly
+on to a German battery that had done considerable damage. The Allied
+guns destroyed the Germans, and the French were frantically delighted,
+their colonel coming over and warmly embracing Major X—— and kissing him
+on both cheeks. We told the major that he was a certain starter for the
+Legion of Honour. The major was a happy man when he was standing in a
+hole, or peering round a piece of rock, telescope to eye, and a sergeant
+lying near him with a telephone receiver strapped on his head.
+
+One afternoon on the Aisne we heard that the Norfolks, who were in the
+trenches on our front, were hugely delighted. They had just killed a
+sniper. This particular sniper had become notorious, for he was a dead
+shot and had hit many of the Norfolk boys. Owing to the vigilance of
+this particular sniper they could not get hot tea into the trenches, and
+several of the Norfolk “Bisleys” were keenly anxious to bag him. One
+day a tree was observed to rustle after a sniping shot, and at once the
+Norfolks sent a hail of bullets into that particular tree. This brought
+the man down, for winged by Norfolk bullets the arboreal Prussian fell
+out of the branches like a ripe acorn, amidst the cheers of the men in
+the trenches.
+
+It was said that these snipers on the Aisne belonged to the Forest
+Guards, who were rangers in the Imperial forests of Eastern Prussia,
+and were dead shots, accustomed all their lives to shoot wild pigs and
+wolves. They were highly unpopular amongst our men.
+
+Sniping is quite in accordance with the rules of war, but the soldiers
+feel that sniping as the Germans play it is not “cricket.” They naturally
+feel very angry with a sniper who gets up a haystack with some provisions
+and ammunition, and after having eaten all his food and fired off all his
+cartridges calmly emerges and surrenders.
+
+Our men are extraordinarily good to wounded Germans and to prisoners,
+but these sniping sneaks stir their venom and ire. I saw one of these
+surrendered uninjured snipers at Ypres meet with savage scowls and
+epithets from some men of a company whose officer had been killed by him
+that morning.
+
+About the last week of September I brought over some motor ambulances
+full of sick men to Braisne. This charming little town, situated on
+the Aisne and on the Marne Canal, was full of ambulances and clearing
+hospitals. Every house almost had a red-cross flag up, for the place was
+crammed with sick and wounded, and the clearing hospitals had been very
+busy with the big casualties. Three doctors had been killed a few days
+previously at Vailly when in action with their regiments, and another
+doctor had died the next day after having had his leg amputated for a
+bad shell wound. He was awarded the V.C., but did not live to enjoy that
+signal honour and distinction.
+
+The clearing hospitals and ambulances were sending large numbers of
+sick soldiers down to the base _en route_ for England—mostly cases of
+dysentery, lumbago, and rheumatism. Many of these men looked bad wrecks,
+and no wonder, when one remembers the rapid, arduous retreat from Mons
+and Le Cateau in the broiling summer heat, followed by the hard fighting
+and marching in the rain from the Marne to the Aisne, and how this was
+succeeded by the hardships, miseries, and discomforts in the wet sodden
+trenches at a time when it was impossible to give them hot cooked food
+and sufficient warmth. More men were wanted, and until they arrived the
+few had to do the work of many. The 5th Division had been promised a rest
+in reserve to recuperate, but not a man could be spared from the line
+we were so hardly holding, and so they simply had to “plug on,” and, as
+cheerfully as they could, sing “It’s a long, long way to Tipperary”; but
+they did not sing much at this time.
+
+While we were at Mont de Soissons and a week after the arrival of our
+first red-cross motor ambulances, we were given instructions to look out
+for a mysterious red-cross motor-car driven by an officer in khaki who
+had a beard and wore a red-cross brassard on his arm. This car seemed
+to be very busy and was constantly travelling up and down the roads and
+always at high speed—too high a speed to be challenged. Sitting at the
+front of the car and next the driver was a nurse, dressed in nurse’s
+uniform, wearing a white cap, and also with a red-cross brassard on the
+left arm. We smelt something fishy about it all. Firstly, none of our
+medical officers wore beards; secondly, medical officers did not drive
+motor ambulances about; thirdly, there were no nurses with us. Nurses
+are not allowed in the fighting line. We watched for this car always,
+and always wondered what we would do if we did sight it, for none of
+us had arms, and this villain with the beard would be sure to have a
+loaded six-shooter near at hand. Two days after our warning the car was
+spotted by a sentry, who challenged, but the driver went furiously past
+him. He was not out of the bush though, for a barricade had been erected
+half-way across the road at a very sharp turn, and to get round this the
+car had to slow down to “dead slow.” A British sentry was here, and other
+soldiers were standing not far away. The bearded driver was ordered to
+stop and get out under cover of the sentry’s rifle. The guard came up and
+the two motorists were arrested.
+
+The man with the beard was a German spy right through, and he was handed
+over to the French, who shot him at daybreak next day. They say he died
+very gamely.
+
+The “nurse” who sat beside him was not shot. We were told that “she” was
+really a man, a dapper little German waiter who had been on the staff of
+a leading hotel in Paris for some years. I saw the man with the beard
+shortly after he was arrested. He looked quiet and scholarly and somewhat
+meek, but “still waters run deep.”
+
+At 4 a.m. on the 27th of September we were all “turned out” by our O.C.,
+who had just received urgent orders to be prepared to leave Mont de
+Soissons as the Germans “were over the river.” After standing by for
+two hours we got word that it was a false alarm. Something had been
+irritating the Germans this morning, for at daybreak they opened a
+furious fire on our positions. As far as we knew it wasn’t the Kaiser’s
+birthday or the anniversary of any prehistoric German victory, so we
+put it down to nerves. Their gunners made a dead set on a field in our
+front just behind the ridge along the Aisne. Hundreds of Black Marias
+and shrapnel were sent on to that unlucky piece of ground, and it was
+wonderful to see the shot-ridden earth sent up in huge volcanic bursts.
+The enemy thought that we had a battery there, but we hadn’t one nearer
+than half a mile, hence our enjoyment of the spectacle.
+
+On the afternoon of this day we heard that Mr. Winston Churchill was with
+us and was dining with the Scots Greys. At least that was the rumour,
+but we hardly believed anything we heard out here. He was reported to
+have said that the war would last another eighteen months. This piece
+of information, following on an early morning’s alarm and in cold wet
+weather, was distinctly cheering! However, as a kind of set-off, in the
+late afternoon we heard that the Crown Prince had been buried again, this
+time in the Argonne, and that it had been authentically established that
+he was quite dead before having been buried. We were glad to know this,
+because on the other occasions when he had been buried, he had not really
+been quite dead.
+
+We were at this period suffering from the effects of a dislocated postal
+system. I had not yet received any letters from England, and did not know
+if mine had reached there. We were all anxious to get the London papers
+to “see how we were getting on at the front.” We knew what was going
+on around us, but knew nothing more. One medical officer returned from
+Braisne, told us that he had heard a great rumour there. We were all agog
+to hear it. After whetting our appetites he gravely told us that a Padre
+had informed him that, “All Europe was in the melting pot and the devil
+was stirring the broth.” This officer was duly punished by having his rum
+ration cut off.
+
+One day on the Aisne I was an interested listener to a discussion
+between two British officers and three French officers on national
+characteristics, and this led up to a review of the way that the British,
+French, and German charge with the bayonet.
+
+The French charge magnificently with the bayonet, but they charge in a
+state of tremendous excitement. When rushing across an open space to
+the enemy they shout and scream with excitement, “France!” “A bas les
+Boches!” “En avant!” They are uplifted with the wild ecstasy of the
+onfall. Men fall in the mad rush never to rise again. _N’importe_—all
+is unnoticed, on they go, an impetuous and irresistible avalanche of
+steel, yelling, stabbing, slaying, overwhelming. They are superb, these
+Frenchmen. I have seen them charge, and know from what I saw the splendid
+fellows they are. In the Argonne, on the Aisne, and in Flanders, the
+French soldier has carried out as resolute and daring bayonet charges
+as ever his fathers did under Napoleon, when they stormed the bridge at
+Lodi, swept over the field of Marengo, and hacked their bloody path at
+Austerlitz.
+
+The British charge stoically and more grimly. They do not shout. I have
+heard them cursing. The British line advances as a sinister cold line of
+steel, in a sort of jog-trot. It is a line of cool-brained gladiators,
+alert of eye and thoroughly bent on slaughter. Our Briton sees his foe,
+and smites savagely with the calculating judgment of a good Rugby forward
+and with the bound of a wild cat. The disciplined valour and the savage
+relentlessness of the British bayonet attack has been heralded in story
+from Malplaquet to Waterloo, from Badajos to Inkermann, and historians
+will chronicle the undying glory of the 7th Division at Ypres when with
+rifle and bayonet it held the gate to Calais.
+
+The German, in spite of what is often said to the contrary, is a brave
+and determined man with the bayonet. The German discipline is undoubted.
+It is a part of the people. It is the fibre of the nation. Discipline,
+subjection to authority, has not to be taught to this people; it is
+absorbed into their very being. The discipline of mind and body as
+we understand it is not the discipline of the German, for his is an
+obedience to authority only,—a “go” when ordered to “go,” a “come” when
+ordered to “come.” But it is also a DIE when ordered to face certain
+death. Men with whom this discipline is a message may not make saints or
+pleasant companions, but do make sturdy foes and stubborn fighters.
+
+They charge well, advancing with a stooping, jerky trot, uttering hoarse
+guttural cries and “Hurrahs.” On they come, in solid masses shoulder to
+shoulder, hoping by the weight and speed of the dense columns to get a
+momentum that nothing can withstand. When in a solid compact phalanx
+this German charge is very dangerous and formidable, and has been able,
+although at a frightful cost, to brush aside and overwhelm veteran
+British and French troops.
+
+But if this compact line and solid column is broken, as it so often is
+to-day by shrapnel, rifle, or machine-gun fire, the sense of cohesion
+or “shoulder to shoulder” support is lost, and the heavy column is then
+no match for the lightning bayonet onfall of the French infantry or the
+weighty heave forward of a British regiment. The German infantryman is
+not an “individual” fighter, but he is nevertheless a brave soldier, and
+knows how to meet death. All three peoples have a great respect for each
+other when it comes to close quarters and take no chances.
+
+A curious feature of French bayonet charges was told me by a French
+officer. He said that if the daily dispatches were read carefully it
+would be noticed that the Germans, when they attacked the French,
+generally made them vacate the first trench, but that the French always
+counter-attacked, retook their own, and carried the charge on into the
+German lines. He said that the Frenchmen are very easily surprised and
+are only at their best when they know what they are up against and what
+they have to do. They also require at times to be worked up to the “fire”
+of the business, and that this was specially true of younger troops. The
+officers know this, and when their men fall back from the front trench,
+they get them together, tell them that they must go forward again,—that
+France is watching them, that the cursed German has his foot in beautiful
+France, that the sons of the men of Jena and Wagram must still show
+their metal; then drawing his sword, and with “En avant, mes enfants,”
+the officer leads forward, followed by his cheering men, and they are at
+these times irresistible.
+
+There is a story told at the front of a famous Scottish regiment whose
+deeds have won admiration in nearly every battle in English history,
+which occupied some advanced trenches. The Germans rushed them in
+overwhelming numbers and drove them out with the bayonet. Another
+regiment, composed almost entirely of little Cockneys, was called up in
+support, and gallantly rushing forward drove out the Germans and took
+many prisoners. They then told the brawny Scotchmen that they could go
+back to their trenches again and if they felt anxious at any time the
+M—— boys from London would be only too pleased to come back and comfort
+them. Some weeks afterwards the Kilties helped the Cockneys out of a hot
+corner, so the odds are now even.
+
+Talking of bayonet charges leads up to bayonet wounds. It is a curious
+fact, well noted amongst surgeons at the front, that there are very few
+bayonet wounds to treat. Yet bayonet charges are constantly taking place,
+and very bloody mêlées they are.
+
+Where are these men who have been speared by the bayonet? The majority
+are dead, for the bayonet when it gets home is a lethal weapon. When it
+pierces the chest or abdomen it, as a rule, reaches a big artery; a rapid
+hæmorrhage follows, and death comes speedily.
+
+The majority of bayonet wounds are in the chest and abdomen, and ghastly
+terrible wounds they are. After the Bavarians and Prussians were hurled
+back at Ypres and La Bassée there were comparatively few bayonet wounds.
+Amongst the vast number of wounded men in the Clearing Hospital at
+Bethune I had personally to treat only one or two cases of bayonet
+wounds. These were, as a rule, simple flesh wounds, and were the lucky
+exceptions amongst the bayonet victims.
+
+This feature about bayonet wounds was also noted by Larrey, the
+surgeon-in-chief to Napoleon during the great Continental wars, by
+M’Grigor, surgeon-in-chief to Wellington in the Peninsula, and by
+surgical observers at a later period during the Crimean War. A war
+correspondent in the Crimea wrote that a man who has been bayoneted dies
+in great pain, that his body and limbs are twisted and contorted by the
+last agonised movements preceding death. This belief is fallacious. Men
+who die speedily from a sudden loss of blood die easily and quietly. They
+go to sleep.
+
+The German bayonet is longer, broader, and heavier than that of the
+Allies. The French bayonet is not a blade, but is shaped like a spear or
+stiletto. The British bayonet is a blade, short and light. It is not,
+however, the blade or the stiletto, it is the man behind that counts.
+
+I mentioned before that our sick and wounded were housed in a loft of
+the farm-château of Mont de Soissons and in a shed outside. This shed or
+lean-to was a most uninviting place for the sick. One side was formed
+by a stone wall, from the top of that a roof projected, and this roof
+was held up by wooden pillars. There was no floor and there were no
+other walls. It was quite open to every wind that blew, except for the
+protection of the stone wall and the roof. Straw was laid on the ground
+of this lean-to and this straw, owing to the constant rain and the very
+muddy, filthy state of the roads and yards round about, got very sodden
+at times. New straw was then put on top of this old straw—that was all.
+It wasn’t very much, truly. Yet badly wounded men were brought in in
+large numbers from the trenches and kept lying on this sodden straw for
+hours, and in some cases for a whole day and night. If the wounded man
+arrived after eleven o’clock in the morning he had to put up with a night
+on the straw in this lean-to. If the man was sick from one of the usual
+diseases prevalent at this time—lumbago, rheumatism, and sciatica—he
+was led up to the loft in the main house. If he had a slight wound he
+was also led up to this place, but if he had a compound fracture or an
+abdominal injury it was necessary to carry him up on a stretcher, and
+the stair up to the loft was so narrow that the task was an extremely
+difficult one, and full of pain and misery to the patient. The loft was
+a draughty hole and not fit to accommodate a sick mountain goat. But it
+was a Buckingham Palace to the Whitechapel lean-to on the stone wall
+outside. Yet on this dirty sodden straw I have dressed foul, septic
+compound fractures, have elevated a fragment of loose bone pressing on
+a man’s brain, and have stood by men dying from gas gangrene, and from
+pneumonia due to exposure from lying out in the rain and cold after
+having been wounded. And every time I saw men lying out in that open
+shed I have asked, “Why have we not motor ambulances at the front?”
+Every morning empty lorries returning from distributing their supplies
+at the front called in at Mont de Soissons and took our wounded down to
+railhead; and this method of transportation of the wounded was one of
+the horrors of war. Our wounded and sick did not arrive according to any
+time-table, and if they arrived at midday or in the afternoon or evening,
+they had, willy-nilly, to be accommodated at the château-farm, and the
+only accommodation we could offer was the windy, inhospitable loft or
+the straw-covered lean-to outside. If we had had motor ambulances all
+of this would have been avoided. Then the patients would not have had
+to be sent to our headquarters at all, but could have been carried to
+railhead at once. Why did we not have motor ambulances at the outset of
+war? God knows. Had anyone asked me five years ago what was the best way
+of transporting a wounded or sick man with an army in the field, I would
+have answered at once, “By motor ambulance, of course.”
+
+[Illustration: LOADING WOUNDED AT SOISSONS. THE FIRST MOTOR AMBULANCE ON
+THE AISNE.]
+
+[Illustration: THE LEAN-TO AT SOISSONS. UNLOADING WOUNDED.]
+
+If a man is wounded in the streets of London or any other city in the
+civilised world he is conveyed to the nearest hospital by an ambulance
+motor-car. When the Army Service Corps had to arrange its transport for
+this war, they naturally thought of nothing else than motor traction. Yet
+in spite of the lessons of army manœuvres in this country, and of the
+dictates of reason, our Army Medical Department sent Field Ambulances
+to the front with the old horse-ambulance of the days of Napoleon and
+Wellington, and did not have a solitary motor ambulance where they were
+so vitally necessary. The position was so odd and incomprehensible that
+I wrote about it to Lord ——, who, I knew, would look at the matter from
+the view-point of common sense and humanity. Lord —— has a great name in
+the Empire, and has been one of the best and ablest of governors of one
+of our Dominions beyond the seas. I knew that if I wrote to him, and he
+chose to act as I was sure he would, something would occur. I did not,
+owing to army postal delays, get his answer till long after, and it was
+worded as follows (allowing for considerable deletions of some parts of
+it, and for names):
+
+    “MY DEAR MARTIN,—I received your letter in London on Wednesday
+    night. Within half an hour of its arrival I hunted up Mr. ——.
+    I found him in a state of great indignation because of the
+    obstacles put in the way of —— giving the assistance they
+    desire to the wounded at the Front. I understand, however, that
+    sixty motor ambulances will be ready on Wednesday next, and
+    that further ambulances will be provided later. Your letter has
+    been read by Lord Kitchener. It arrived at an opportune moment,
+    when the great want of motor ambulances at the Front was being
+    realised here. I hope that even before you receive this letter
+    the scandal which makes you so righteously indignant may have
+    been removed and that proper arrangements are now in successful
+    operation for the treatment of the wounded.
+
+    “Please let me hear from you from time to time how things are
+    going, and always remember that I shall be more than pleased if
+    I can give you the slightest assistance in getting those things
+    done which you may think necessary.—Believe me, yours sincerely,
+
+                                                               “——.”
+
+Shortly after this, motor ambulances appeared, and the position eased,
+to the infinite and lasting benefit of our wounded officers and men.
+I still, however, often wonder why motor ambulances were not landed
+in France with the other motor vehicles when our Expeditionary Army
+disembarked. Many lives would have been saved, and much suffering would
+have been avoided.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+FIELD AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS.
+
+
+The military medical unit known as a Field Ambulance deserves some
+description.
+
+The Field Ambulances are officially designated as Divisional Troops
+under the command of the Assistant Director of Medical Services. A Field
+Ambulance consists of three sections, known as A, B, and C sections,
+and each of these sections is divided into a “bearer” and a “tent”
+subdivision.
+
+The _personnel_ consists of a commanding officer, generally a major or
+a lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Army Medical Corps, who is always in
+one of the tent subdivisions, and of nine other medical officers and
+a quartermaster, generally an honorary lieutenant or captain, of the
+R.A.M.C. In addition there are 242 of other ranks, bearers, orderlies,
+cooks, Army Service Corps drivers, officers’ servants, dispensers,
+clerks, washermen, etc. The _personnel_ is fairly evenly divided amongst
+the three sections, so that on occasion a section of a Field Ambulance
+can carry on a limited but complete service. As will be seen later on at
+Bethune, one section of our ambulance did this, and for a time acted as
+a Clearing Hospital and passed thousands of wounded through its hands.
+B and C sections have three four-horsed ambulance waggons, and A section
+has four, making a total of ten waggons for the transport of wounded.
+The other transport of a Field Ambulance consists of six general service
+waggons, three medical store carts, three water carts, a cooks’ cart, and
+an extra cart for odd jobs. The drivers and grooms have about one hundred
+horses to look after.
+
+The Field Ambulance carries a complete hospital emergency equipment.
+Theoretically, if necessary a serious abdominal operation, a trephining
+operation, or an amputation could be carried out at an ambulance station
+by skilled surgeons surrounded by the latest and best of surgical
+instruments and in antiseptic surroundings. I said theoretically, but as
+a matter of fact such a state of affairs is not achieved, and the surgery
+performed at Field Ambulance stations is crude and temporary.
+
+A Field Ambulance station is a first-aid station, and surgery is avoided
+as much as possible. The equipment of our Field Ambulance to-day
+leaves very much to be desired, and I earnestly hope that during this
+war the whole organisation will be thoroughly reviewed, reorganised,
+and remodelled, and that there will be evolved a medical unit more in
+consonance with the modern conceptions of good clean surgery. The Field
+Ambulance should receive the wounded from the Brigade which it serves,
+and as long as it holds these wounded it should be able to give them
+the very best surgical and medical help. It must send the wounded as
+speedily as possible to the hospitals and stations in the rear, and keep
+the fighting line, of which it is really a part, as clear of wounded as
+possible. It must conform to the demands of the military situation; for
+after all war is war, and the purpose of a war is to beat the enemy with
+sound troops and get the wounded out of the way. A Field Ambulance can
+do all this and must do all this, and yet it need not be too obsessed
+with the idea that immediately a badly wounded man is brought in he must
+necessarily be bundled off to the base, irrespective of the nature or
+magnitude of his wounds. The future of very many battlefield injuries
+depends on the first treatment received, and a skilled surgeon surrounded
+with familiar tools and appliances to ensure absolute cleanliness can
+be a god of mercy and confer health and power on many a stricken man. A
+blundering, incompetent amateur, lacking the divine essence of knowing
+his own imperfections and courageously taking responsibilities which are
+sky-high above him, can inflict a lifelong wrong and deprive a man of his
+power to earn his livelihood in the future. The cautious and conservative
+surgeon is ever the boldest when boldness means success. In every Field
+Ambulance in this war and in future wars, let us see to it that we have a
+cautious and conservative surgeon.
+
+The medical officer is not as a rule a good horse master. From my
+experience (and I am speaking both from what I saw in the South African
+War and in this war), the medical officer is a very indifferent horse
+master. He will do his best, as he always does in all circumstances; but
+it is clearly unfair to ask a doctor, who knows as much about horses as
+a monk does about antelopes, to take charge of a unit comprising about
+one hundred horses, sixteen four-horsed waggons, and seven or eight
+two-horsed carts, Army Service Corps drivers, and a miscellaneous lot
+of grooms. I have seen an amiable and competent Army Medical officer
+dismayed when he was compelled, owing to some duty, to get on a horse’s
+back, and the horse seemed to know and enjoy it, for, usually a docile,
+mild-eyed beast, he at these times became exceedingly sportive. Yet this
+officer may have, owing to his rank, to assume charge later of a hundred
+horses and a lot of waggons. A shoemaker should stick to his last, and a
+doctor is only at home with his own professional work.
+
+The remedy is to put Field Ambulances under trained officers of the
+Army Service Corps. They are experts in the management of convoys and
+transports, and could manage the field work of an ambulance to the
+infinite satisfaction of everybody. Leave the doctors to the purely
+professional work. There is enough of that to be done. Doctors are too
+valuable as doctors to spare them for work which A.S.C. subalterns and
+young captains can perform. The arranging of advanced dressing stations,
+the choosing of buildings as hospital sites, can be done by the A.D.M.S.
+of the division, and the purely workman’s part of the job can be done by
+the A.S.C. officer and his men.
+
+The transportation of wounded from the fighting line has been
+extraordinarily well carried out by the Royal Army Medical Corps and the
+Red Cross since our army took up its present fighting line in France and
+Flanders. During the great retreat the transportation was ineffective,
+and there is no doubt at all that many of our wounded who had to be left
+behind could have been rescued if we had had motor ambulance convoys as
+we have to-day.
+
+On the Marne, and for the first week on the Aisne, the transport of the
+wounded to the base was most imperfect. Who is to blame for this is a
+matter that will have to be thrashed out when the piping days of peace
+arrive, and we have time once again to put our house in order and profit
+by the lessons of the war. The only means of transport previous to the
+arrival of the motor ambulances was by transport lorries belonging to
+the Army Service Corps. These waggons brought provisions and supplies to
+the front, and on returning empty had to call at the various ambulance
+stations. Straw was laid on the floors of these lorries, and the wounded
+were packed tightly on the straw. This method of transportation for a man
+suffering from pneumonia or compound fracture, a chest wound or a wound
+in the abdomen, was a terrible ordeal, and undoubtedly added intense
+suffering, misery, and discomfort to our badly stricken soldiers. Things
+improved directly on the advent of the comfortable, well-sprung motor
+ambulance. From the firing line to the horsed or motor ambulance the man
+is carried on a stretcher by hand, but all future transportation is by
+motor ambulance, train, river-barge, and steamer.
+
+When a man is wounded at the front he is brought in by regimental bearers
+to the dressing station of the medical officer of the battalion. This is
+generally either a “dug-out” or is situated in a cottage a little way
+back or sometimes behind a stone wall or near a clump of trees. Here
+the regimental doctor simply dresses the wound, as cleanly as possible
+under the circumstances, stops all bleeding and applies rough splints to
+fractured limbs, and administers morphia if there is much pain. These
+regimental aid posts are dangerous places well within shell fire, and
+the wounded are got out of them as quickly as possible, and generally
+at night. They are carried on stretchers to the ambulance waggons—horse
+or motor—which are drawn up on some point of a road, or sometimes in
+a village farther back. From here the wounded man is conveyed to the
+headquarters of the ambulance in a village or château or church, and
+his wounds are again dressed, if necessary, but as little handling as
+possible is done, although the soldier thinks that his wounds should be
+frequently dressed. At the ambulance headquarters urgent operations,
+often of a serious character, have sometimes to be carried out, but no
+operation is done if the case will permit of safe transportation farther
+back. The next rest-house for the wounded man is the Clearing Hospital
+or Casualty Clearing Station, and through this pass the wounded of
+many ambulances. Many wounded are brought direct from the trenches to
+a Casualty Clearing Hospital without calling at all at the ambulance
+headquarters. All urgent operations are performed at the Casualty
+Clearing Station, and this station should be thoroughly well equipped in
+staff and _personnel_ as well as with all the modern appurtenances so
+necessary for the safe performance of intricate and dangerous surgical
+operations.
+
+For obvious reasons the Clearing Hospital or Casualty Clearing Station
+could not fulfil its destiny during the retreat of our army from Belgium
+to the east of Paris. If the army is retreating, the Clearing Hospital
+must go. It is part of the line of communications and would impede and
+cumber the fighting divisions as they fall back. If full of wounded at
+this time, it would of course be captured by the advancing enemy, as
+the Clearing Hospital has no transport of its own, and depends on the
+regular transport department of the army. There ought to be a transport
+attached to a Clearing Hospital and solely under the control of the
+commanding officer, and it would be of great advantage to have the whole
+Clearing Hospital under the command of an Army Service Corps officer of
+experience, a man accustomed to the transportation of supplies and to
+commanding drivers of vehicles and mechanics. To put a Clearing Hospital
+under the command of a doctor as is now done is as absurd as it would be
+to place a large civil hospital under the control of a doctor.
+
+Our civil hospitals are governed by Boards and a Secretary who has the
+whole administration at his finger-ends. The medical staff do not
+control or govern a civil hospital. They are busy enough in their own
+sphere, which is a purely professional one—the treatment and cure of the
+sick inmates. So with the Clearing Hospitals, the Army Service Corps
+officer should be in charge of the hospital, and the purely professional
+part of the hospital, the treatment of the wounded, should be entirely
+and absolutely under the control of the medical staff, and completely
+outside the range of action of the administrative chief. The evacuation
+of the wounded from the Clearing Hospital to the hospital train and Base
+could be controlled also by the administrative lay head of the hospital,
+and all that the medical officers would be concerned with would be the
+cases suitable to evacuate and when they should be evacuated. There would
+at first be considerable opposition to this course by the regular Army
+Medical Corps, but they could not advance any cogent arguments against
+the devolution of administrative authority from them to the Army Service
+Corps.
+
+The Royal Army Medical Corps is, or should be, a professional body of
+men. Anything that impairs their professional efficiency is bad. The
+control of Field Ambulances and Clearing Hospitals is not a professional
+man’s _métier_, and he does not shine in this position. Too much military
+control or command changes the army medical officer from a doctor to a
+military officer, and this change is not to be desired.
+
+In civil life the more experienced a doctor is, the bigger becomes his
+practice and the wider becomes his sphere of professional usefulness. In
+military life, experience means promotion to higher rank, and the higher
+the rank the less the professional work and the more the administrative
+work.
+
+In war time, as witness South Africa and this present war, civil surgeons
+have to be called in large numbers to undertake important surgical work.
+The experience of medical officers of the army in peace is professionally
+a poor one. They are rarely called upon to perform serious surgical
+operations, for a man requiring an important surgical operation is no
+longer of use as a soldier, and is invalided out of the army. This man
+then necessarily comes under the civilian surgeon, who sets about to
+cure him, if possible, of his affliction. An urgent appendix operation,
+a rupture, the removal of a loose cartilage in a knee joint and varicose
+veins in their various manifestations—these, roughly speaking, compose
+the experience in surgery of the army doctor in times of peace.
+
+In advanced and intricate surgery in the abdomen he gets no practice, and
+yet it is just the experience gained in this branch of surgery that is so
+vitally important to surgeons at the front to-day.
+
+A surgeon at the front should be a man of ripe judgment and a good
+operator. He should know when to operate, and what is equally important,
+when not to operate. He should know whether a wounded man should be
+operated upon at once without exposing him to the risk of further
+transportation, or whether he could be transported to a Base Hospital
+without endangering his safety. And if the case demands immediate
+surgery at the front, this surgeon should be able to undertake the
+operation himself. Surgeons of approved judgment and skill are not hard
+to find, and every Base Hospital, every stationary Hospital, every
+Casualty Clearing Hospital, every Field Ambulance should have one officer
+on its staff possessing the qualities and attributes mentioned. And such
+a distribution is the easiest thing in the world to effect.
+
+These men can be drawn from the civil side of the profession, as the
+military side, the Royal Army Medical Corps proper, cannot provide them.
+
+There are of course able surgeons in the Royal Army Medical Corps, men
+who, were they in civil life, would have large consulting practices and
+great reputations, but these men are few and are of that surgical bent
+which will rise superior to its military environment, and keeping touch
+with modern work, will absorb all that is good and new in the methods and
+technique of surgery.
+
+This lack of appreciation of the requirements of modern surgery has been
+evidenced in so many instances at the front with our Field Ambulance and
+Clearing Hospital equipment.
+
+One day early in the war I had a number of wounded men to treat, all
+with dirty septic wounds. The method of sterilising our hands was
+inefficient and I asked for rubber gloves. Rubber gloves for the hands
+of the surgeon are absolutely essential when dealing with a number of
+septic cases. After handling septic cases he may be called upon at
+any moment to operate on a case requiring the strictest antisepsis or
+asepsis to give the wounded man a fighting chance of life. I asked a
+senior medical officer of the ambulance for these rubber gloves. Judge
+of my consternation and amazement when he said that “There were no
+rubber gloves in the ambulance equipment, and _he did not believe in the
+necessity for rubber gloves_.” When the ambulance was being equipped
+previous to leaving this country at the outbreak of war he could have
+obtained as many pairs of rubber gloves as he wished, but because he did
+not think them necessary, they were not obtained. He did not realise what
+war surgery would be like and had not been accustomed to operate on a
+large scale. This blunder on his part was inexcusable and serious, and
+the one who suffered from such a blunder was not himself but a wounded
+officer or man.
+
+In a Clearing Hospital in a small town in France to which I was
+temporarily attached for some days, again I could not obtain rubber
+gloves, although I had there to operate on profoundly septic cases, on
+the cases of appalling gas gangrene and also on recent wounds of knee
+joints, of brain, and abdomen. I asked for rubber gloves and was promised
+them. None came. On my own initiative I wrote to a London surgical supply
+establishment and obtained three dozen pairs of rubber gloves by return
+mail.
+
+Was this fair to our wounded?
+
+At another time I had a difficult bowel operation to do, and the only
+fine needles in stock could not be used as the finest silk available
+there would not go through the eyes of the needles. The examination of
+the silk and the needles had not been carried out when the equipment
+was being put together in England. At this same place I had nothing
+strong enough to ligature blood-vessels at the bottom of deep septic
+wounds, except silk. The catgut was too fine and brittle to hold a big
+blood-vessel, yet any surgeon will tell you that to put a silk ligature
+on a vessel in a foul wound is very bad surgical technique. Yet it had to
+be done. Again, in a dangerous operation on the knee joint I could not
+get any sterilised towels nor an aneurism needle nor a pair of scissors.
+The only scissors had been lost, and only one aneurism needle, which
+had also been lost, was supplied in the instrument case. The patient
+was an officer who had been struck by shrapnel at the back of the knee,
+on the shoulder, and on one foot and one hand. He bled smartly and was
+admitted to this Clearing Hospital with a tourniquet round his thigh to
+control the bleeding temporarily. I opened up the wound behind the knee
+and secured the large bleeding artery and veins there, and all I had
+to ligature these vessels with was silk. There was no stout catgut, as
+there ought to have been. Also I could only get two sterilised towels,
+and these I had to boil myself. This was in a Clearing Hospital at the
+front in November last year. There were no gloves. There were none of the
+things round one to treat shock from which the officer suffered after
+the operation. It made one despair. Yet all of these things should have
+been at hand, and could have been easily obtained by the exercise of
+some forethought. No wonder the wounds in so many cases were at this time
+sent back to England in such a foul and septic condition. It was not
+the military authorities who were to blame. The military chiefs did all
+they could to help the medical department and always have done so. The
+fault lay at the door of the Royal Army Medical Corps chiefs, and after
+the war these things will again be reviewed in order to prevent a future
+repetition.
+
+My criticism is meant entirely for the good of our wounded officers
+and men. They deserve the best, and it is the duty of the Army Medical
+Department to give them of the best. It is only by pointing out defects
+that improvement can follow, and the only man who can point out these
+medical defects is a surgeon who has actually had to operate on wounded
+men in a Field Ambulance or in a Clearing Hospital under adverse
+surroundings.
+
+It is an easy matter to arrange for a modern surgical equipment for a
+Field Ambulance or a Clearing Hospital. Sterilisers for instruments
+and towels and dressings are not cumbrous appliances and do not take
+up much space. The surgical instrument case at present in use by the
+Royal Army Medical Corps is out of date and requires a complete revision
+and overhaul by a surgeon who is accustomed to operate, and not by a
+committee of senior or retired officers of the Army Medical Staff. The
+younger officers of the Royal Army Medical Corps and the “professional”
+men amongst the seniors recognise the defects of the present system,
+but naturally they cannot say much. This lack of medical equipment and
+the “unreasonableness” of the medical department is a common subject of
+conversation at the front amongst civilian medical officers, and I have
+seen some of these men indignant beyond measure at what they have seen
+and met with.
+
+The Clearing Hospital, in addition to being a “rest-house” on the _via
+dolorosa_ of the wounded, is also a sieve. It has to sift the lightly
+wounded from the seriously wounded and the serious cases from the
+desperate cases. In this process of sifting a large collection of wounded
+men, it discriminates between those who are fit to be sent to the Base
+and those who must remain for a longer or a shorter period. Many claim
+that the Clearing Hospital is not a hospital _per se_ but holds a purely
+administrative position. I feel sure that it will become more and more
+a hospital as time goes on, and that its present surgical and medical
+equipment will necessarily undergo a complete reorganisation. To-day
+its equipment is little more than that of a Field Ambulance. It is not
+equipped to deal with extensive and serious operations, and yet serious
+operations have been performed and will necessarily continue to be
+performed at the Clearing Hospital.
+
+There is no shadow of doubt that many of the men operated upon at Bethune
+in the Hôpital Civil et Militaire later on in the war owe their recovery
+in a very large measure to the excellence of the complete sterilising
+equipment and cleanly surroundings. No trouble can be too great and no
+expense should be spared to make the surgical stations at the front up to
+date in all that makes for surgical cleanliness.
+
+It is even more necessary to have the skilled surgeon at the front
+than at the Base, but we have any amount of skilled surgeons for both
+places. A skilled operating man of experience should not be attached to a
+regiment as regimental surgeon while a recently qualified man is deputed
+to blood his ’prentice hand at a major operation in a Clearing Hospital.
+Yet this has been done, and I know of an instance where a recently
+qualified man performed his first trephining operation on a soldier
+with a bad head injury whilst a few miles away there was an experienced
+operator engaged solely in first-aid work as regimental surgeon.
+
+I was told by a senior officer of the R.A.M.C. that in the city of X——
+before the war he had as assistant in his military operating room a
+very clever young R.A.M.C. orderly. This man was well trained in the
+sterilisation of instruments and dressings and in the preparation of a
+room for operations. When the ambulance was mobilised in this city on
+the outbreak of war the medical officer applied for this man, who would
+have been invaluable, to be appointed to the tent section of the Field
+Ambulance. Here the training and knowledge of this orderly would have
+been of great service. Instead of that, the man was appointed to look
+after the water waggon of an infantry regiment and was killed early in
+the war. Any untrained man would have done for the water cart, but a lot
+of training is necessary to make a good hospital room assistant.
+
+At the Clearing Hospital the wounded man meets for the first time the
+Army Nurse. This is the nearest point to the firing line that our nurses
+are allowed to go, but I know lots of them who are extremely anxious to
+go into the trenches. The nurse is a welcome sight to both officers and
+men, and no man nurse can adequately take the place of a trained woman.
+The presence of nursing sisters in a hospital is good and wholesome, and
+where they are the hospital work is carried on infinitely better and
+the patient is well looked after. R.A.M.C. orderlies do not like our
+nursing sisters. The sister makes the orderly work, will not allow him
+to smoke in the wards, makes him wash his hands and keep tidy. To the
+slacker, of course, these things are highly unpalatable, and there are
+many slackers about. Our British nursing sisters are splendid women,
+and work ungrudgingly and sympathetically always. It is good to see
+a bright-faced, white-aproned nurse amongst the wounded, and she is
+extraordinarily popular with her patients.
+
+The hospital train in France is a well-run unit. The accommodation for
+the sick and wounded is excellent, trained nurses accompany each train,
+and the medical arrangements are controlled by three doctors, generally a
+regular army medical officer in charge and with two temporary lieutenants
+or civil surgeons to assist him to do the actual professional work. No
+surgical or medical work worth mentioning is done on hospital trains;
+they are simply means to an end—the end is the Base Hospital.
+
+The Base Hospitals in France are well-run units also. There are here big
+medical and nursing staffs, a large number of orderlies, and any amount
+of equipment. I was for some time Surgical Specialist at No. 6 General
+Hospital at Rouen, and this hospital was splendidly administered by the
+commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel ——. In the Base Hospitals there
+are good operating rooms, and in fact every modern appliance that one
+could desire. It is a pity that the same care in administration and
+equipment had not been carried farther up and nearer our soldiers at the
+front.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE.
+
+
+Early in October, and at night, the Ambulance again took the road—we
+turned our back on the Aisne and with the 2nd Army Corps began the famous
+move across the French lines of communication to the Belgian frontier and
+into Flanders. This change of position will be written up in the future
+as one of the most masterly episodes of the war. It was a formidable
+task to move the British Army and its supplies across the French lines
+and bring them into an entirely new position on the front. It had to
+be carried out with the utmost secrecy. None of us knew where we were
+going. Each day the secret orders were issued and the various brigades
+and columns carried out the indicated programme, while the French took up
+our positions and trenches as we retired from them. This was done also
+with great secrecy. I can imagine the perturbation of the Saxons and
+Wurtemburgers on our front on seeing French _képis_ and uniforms where
+for weeks they had seen the khaki. The 2nd Corps moved off first. The 1st
+Corps left a week later.
+
+On the first night we marched through Nampteuil and reached Droszy about
+midnight. It was a beautiful starlight night with a biting frost. We
+billeted in a spacious château, with plenty of cover for the ambulance
+waggons and with stables for the horses. The men slept in stable lofts
+and the officers on the floor of the marble hall. The hall was a
+beautiful room, containing some valuable old furniture. The walls were
+covered with relics of the chase of the days of Louis XIV., and old
+hunting horns, knives, and boar spears. Part of the château was modern,
+and part consisting of a wonderful old tower, loopholed for arrows, was
+evidently all that was left of the keep of a strong feudal castle. The
+proprietor was an old rear-admiral of the French Navy and he received
+us with the greatest courtesy; the Norfolks arrived an hour after us
+and quartered in a big house and yard close by. Our brigadier, Count
+Gleichen, arrived early in the morning and slept in our château.
+
+A Taube was seen approaching in the morning and every one was ordered to
+get under cover or stand stock-still. This Taube was evidently trying to
+find out the reason for the absence of British in the old trenches and
+the presence of the French in their place. We surmised correctly that
+the Teutonic curiosity was considerably aroused. A few hours afterwards
+another Taube appeared—or it may have been our first visitor—and flying
+very fast, for a French airman was in hot pursuit. Both soon disappeared
+into the upper blue, but we laid our odds on the Frenchman.
+
+[Illustration: CHÂTEAU OF LONGPONT.]
+
+[Illustration: VILLAGE OF LONGPONT.]
+
+At 6.30 that night we again got under way and had a magnificent night
+march to Longpont, arriving there at 10.30 p.m. Longpont is a wonderful
+old place. The Château Longpont dates back to very early times and
+contains some marvellous old tapestry. It is the home of the Comte and
+Comtesse M——, and they were in residence at this time and entertained
+as their guests on this day General Sir Charles Ferguson and his staff.
+Sir Charles was the Commander of the 5th Division of the 2nd Army Corps.
+The Comte and Comtesse had as guests, some weeks previously, General
+von Kluck, Commander of the right wing of the German Army, and had some
+interesting anecdotes to tell of this hard-fighting General and his staff.
+
+Abutting on the château were the famous ruins of the abbey of Longpont.
+The remains of the old abbey are so historic that they are known in
+France as “Les Ruines.” It was built by the Cistercian monks in the
+twelfth century, and in the adjoining priory over three hundred monks
+were accommodated in the days when the Church was omnipotent in France.
+During the Reign of Terror the beautiful old abbey was destroyed by the
+revolutionaries, but the massive character of the pillars and walls
+proved too much even for these iconoclasts, and stand to-day, clothed in
+ivy and moss, the monuments of a glorious past. The venerable and stately
+majesty of these ruins, where every stone seemed to speak of the grandeur
+of other days, impressed the imagination of all who gazed upon them.
+
+The day following our arrival at Longpont was a Sunday. Divine service
+was conducted at 10 a.m. round the old broken altar by our Church of
+England chaplain, and Sir Charles Ferguson, the Divisional General, read
+the lessons. Monsignor conducted the Catholic service at 11.30. Both
+services were largely attended by our own men and by French soldiers
+occupying the village. In imagination one could see the princely abbots
+and the cowled monks who, during a period of six hundred years, had
+chanted their litanies and passed in procession inside the beautiful
+abbey, gazing wonderingly at the simple military services held round the
+tumbled masonry of the ancient altar.
+
+After the services we spent the day wandering through the old-fashioned
+village of Longpont, examining its ancient gateways adorned with the
+crests of the kings of France, or strolling through the fine woods
+bordering the lake. Heavy artillery fire from the French batteries could
+be heard all the day. We were now right behind the French lines.
+
+I cannot pass from Longpont without describing our sleeping quarters on
+the night of our arrival. The officers of the ambulance had to sleep
+on the straw of an old stone stable. The stable looked comfortable and
+inviting, and it was not till we had crawled into our valises that the
+“fun” commenced. We had just lain down and blown out the candles when
+we felt curious obscure movements under our valises. Then a rustling
+of straw and a scampering of some objects over our beds. One doctor at
+once yelled out, “Good Lord, the place is full of rats.” He turned on
+his electric torch and immediately there was a wild scurry and stampede
+to cover of hundreds of rats. The torch was turned off, and after a
+little while the scampering and squeaking started again. The rats were
+either enjoying a game or were upset by our occupation of their stable.
+At one end of the stable was a feeding trough, and sitting in a row on
+the edge of the trough were innumerable rats. Conspicuous amongst them
+was one enormous fellow, about the size of a cat—some one said he was
+as big as a calf—with huge grey moustaches and very knowing eyes. This
+was undoubtedly the leader. We christened him Von Hindenberg. Somebody
+threw a bottle at him, but the cunning old rascal dodged it by making a
+tremendous leap into the middle of the stable and disappeared. One young
+doctor then said that he would rather sleep out in the open than amongst
+the rats, and he carried his valise outside. The rest of us decided to
+stop where we were, but we all pulled our blankets well over our heads.
+Our childhood horror of rats still remained, and we were just a little
+bit afraid of them—especially of Von Hindenberg.
+
+From Longpont we had a hard gruelling march of fifteen to eighteen
+miles through the night, and arrived at Lieux Ristaures at 6 a.m. We
+were stopped a long time on the road at the little village of Corcy by
+hundreds of motor vans, waggons, and buses containing French troops. We
+realised on this night what “crossing a line of communication” actually
+means. The French were hurrying up heavy reinforcements to strengthen a
+part of their front which at that moment was withstanding a most resolute
+German attack, our Brigade was moving as quickly as possible to another
+point of the front. The roads of the two armies crossed at Corcy, and
+of course one had to wait till the way was clear. It all looked very
+confusing and chaotic, but it was really very cleverly managed. Our
+road at first led through a forest, and anyone who knows the forests of
+France knows the beauty and charm of the tall trees. Little could be
+seen, however; high overhead one could make out a few stars, but the
+track itself was in Cimmerian darkness. About 2 a.m. we reached Villars
+Cotterets and marched through the old cobbled streets without a pause.
+This old town looked interesting, and one would have liked to have
+explored the birthplace of Dumas. After Villars Cotterets our road lay
+through more open country and a grey dawn made things clearer. We were
+all dog-tired with the long march and the constant halts; marching at
+night was more monotonous and fatiguing than day marching.
+
+On the way from Villars Cotterets to our next bivouac, Lieux Ristaures,
+at night time, when we were all feeling very done up, a most surprising
+rumour reached us. Far ahead on the long column we suddenly heard distant
+cheering which grew in intensity as it travelled quickly down to us
+preceded by a message shouted from one to another, “The Kaiser is dead.
+Killed yesterday morning. Pass it on.” When the message reached us we
+laughed, and did not pass it on. Cries came out of the darkness in front,
+“Pass the message on. It’s official. The Kaiser’s dead.” So we passed
+it on, and the cheering travelled back across country to the marching
+men far behind. It cheered the men up wonderfully; they were delighted.
+It of course turned out to be a fake, cleverly engineered by some wags
+at the head of the column. Of rumours there was no end. The Crown Prince
+had been buried in Flanders, in the Argonne, at Soissons. But he always
+got out of his grave. We buried Von Kluck, Hindenburg, and Bulow, and
+each burial was related with a wealth of detail that left nothing to the
+imagination. The most accepted rumour of all, and one which is still
+believed by many, was the harrowing story of the Prince with the velvet
+mask. This story had a distinctly Dumas flavour, and it had a great
+vogue. It was related to me first on the Aisne by a doctor in a Scottish
+regiment, who had had it from the Colonel, who had received it from
+somebody higher up. I, of course, passed it on lower down the social
+scale, and our Division knew it that afternoon. The Crown Prince at this
+time was said to be living in a richly furnished cave opposite Reims.
+On dull days he would sit on a chair outside and order the shelling of
+Reims Cathedral, while he gazed through a powerful glass at the falling
+masonry. One day the Prussian Nero was missing from his cave, and the
+story then shifts to Strasburg, whither in the dead of night a wounded
+officer of apparently august rank was conveyed in a motor-car. Two
+powerful Limousines accompanied this car, one before and one behind, and
+these were full of highly placed army officers. A special train with
+steam up was awaiting the arrival of the cars, and as the wounded officer
+was carried across the platform on a stretcher, closely surrounded by
+Generals, it was noticed that a velvet mask covered his face. The mask
+fell off as the body was lifted into the train and the Crown Prince’s
+face was exposed to view. I believe that this story was afterwards
+circulated in the French press. We certainly did not hear of His Imperial
+Highness for many months afterwards.
+
+Another rumour circumstantially related by a field chaplain and duly
+passed on with the _imprimatur_ of the Church, was that Prince Albrecht
+of Prussia, son of the War Lord himself, had been wounded and taken
+prisoner into Antwerp by the Belgians. He was operated upon by Belgian
+surgeons in the presence of two German medical officers, and a bullet
+was extracted from his spine. The bullet was a Mauser—a German one. The
+Prince died and his body was handed back to the Germans.
+
+On the way to our next bivouac we also heard that Arras was being
+bombarded by the Germans and that they were investing Antwerp. We had
+quite a lot of war news to discuss for the remainder of our road, and
+until we pulled our waggons under the trees round an old mill at Lieux
+Ristaures. The men were billeted in out-houses and wood sheds belonging
+to the mill, and the officers were cordially welcomed by the hospitable
+miller and his kind-hearted womenfolk. They prepared coffee, bread and
+butter, and eggs for us, and we had the use of two bedrooms and a small
+office. A rapid mill race ran through the garden and under the kitchen
+floor of the house to the orchard beyond. When the miller’s wife wanted
+fresh water, all she had to do was to lift up a trap on the kitchen floor
+and dip the bucket into the tumbling water below. Lieux Ristaures has a
+fine old ruined church all to itself, but it is disfigured by some modern
+attempts to restore it to its ancient grandeur, and these attempts have
+spoiled completely the beauty of the ruins. At Lieux I received my first
+mail since leaving England. It was now October, and I had left England in
+August. This will give an idea of the marvellous work of our Army Post
+Office, but as no department has received such abuse as this one, I will
+spare its feelings and say no more.
+
+[Illustration: ON THE ROAD TO COMPIÈGNE.]
+
+A fine contingent of French cavalry passed by on this day. The men and
+horses looked splendid. The brass helmets, plumes, and cuirasses caught
+the sun’s rays, and we described the passing as a “gorgeous cavalcade.”
+The helmets and cuirasses, however, seem to belong to old-world armies,
+and look stagey amongst the simpler uniforms of this age.
+
+We stopped two nights at the quaint old farm of Lieux with its rushing
+mill race, and at three o’clock on the second day marched to Bethisy St.
+Martin, where we had an excellent tea at a cosy house in the town—butter,
+eggs, bread, cold beef, and pickles. We sat round a table with a
+tablecloth! our first since August. The good woman who prepared the meal
+made us very welcome. We slept on the floor of the _Mairie_ in the
+centre of the town till 5 a.m., when we again took the road to Santines
+and Verberie, passing near Senlis. Verberie showed many evidences of the
+Prussian sign manual—shelled houses and smashed walls. We reached the
+river Oise at 10 a.m. and crossed by a pontoon bridge, as the fine old
+stone bridge had been blown up; marched through Rivecourt and bivouacked
+for three hours by the wayside. It was a glorious morning, the going was
+good, and everybody was cheerful and looked very hard and fit. At Halte
+de Meux, where was a railway siding with troop trains, we received orders
+to embark on one of the trains for a destination unknown.
+
+The train by which we were to travel had to carry the Norfolk Regiment
+also. When the Norfolks were all on board we found that there was not
+room enough left for the Field Ambulance, with its ambulance waggons,
+supply waggons, horses, and men. C section, with its waggons and
+equipment, had to be left behind, and get on as best it could by some
+other train; so we of C section took the road to Compiègne. We reached
+this charming and historic city in the dark, and found that there
+was no train for us. We crossed the Oise again on a bridge of moored
+barges, as the magnificent stone bridge spanning the Oise here was in
+ruins, destroyed by the French during the German advance. The night
+was desperately cold; we slept, or tried to sleep, on the boulevard
+alongside the river bank, but had to get up and march about to keep up
+the circulation. The men lit a fire under the trees of the boulevard
+and sat round it all night. There was no reason really why we should
+have slept out on the open boulevard, for there was a large, half-empty
+infantry barracks about 20 yards away and the French offered us the use
+of it for the night. Our commanding officer, however, decided otherwise,
+and consequently we passed a most miserable night.
+
+Compiègne, situated on the Oise, is one of the most charming and
+fascinating cities in France. In the palace, Napoleon Bonaparte
+and the Empress Marie Louise, Louis Philippe, and Napoleon III.
+frequently resided. The tower where Joan of Arc was imprisoned, the
+sixteenth-century Hôtel de Ville with its belfry tower, and the old
+church of St. Jacques well repay a visit. The city appeared on the
+surface to be leading a normal life except for the large number of
+French soldiers and the many Red Cross Hospitals. Compiègne was at this
+time a favourite afternoon call for the Taubes, and they frequently
+dropped bombs, meant no doubt for the old palace. Old historic châteaux,
+cathedrals, and churches have a strange fascination for German
+artillerists and bomb-droppers.
+
+I must now relate an episode of some interest that occurred on the
+march up to Compiègne—nothing less than seeing General Joffre, the
+Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Armies. I had dropped behind from my
+ambulance, and had given my horse to my groom to lead behind my section
+on the march. A marching regiment was coming up behind us, and as I
+knew the doctor I waited till the regiment came up, and then joined in
+and walked alongside my medical friend. A large château was situated on
+the side of the road some distance on, and as we came up we saw a large
+group of French officers standing at the old gateway. A whisper travelled
+rapidly down the line that this was the French Headquarters Staff and
+that Joffre himself was there. At once the subalterns “tightened up”
+the marching men, heads were lifted, shoulders squared, the step became
+smarter and rhythmic. Low muttered commands snapped out: “Smartly
+there,” “By your right,” “Keep your distance, men.” As we came abreast
+of the group at the gateway, the sharp, clear command rang out from
+each platoon officer, “Eyes right!” the officers saluted smartly, and
+with a parade swing the fine regiment marched past. I gazed long and
+interestedly at the officer at the gateway who took our salute. He was
+easily distinguishable as Joffre, for he was exactly like the pictures
+seen of him in every shop window in France, or rather the pictures were
+faithful representations of Joffre. When I got past, I stepped out of
+the company I was marching with on to the far side of the road, and
+while the remainder of the regiment was still passing by I had a good
+long look at the man who means so much to France, and in whom France is
+so sublimely confident. He was dressed in a well-fitting but easy blue
+tunic, with stars on the sleeves near the cuff indicating his rank of
+General, and with a gold band on the shoulders, the familiar red French
+trousers, and black polished cavalry jack-boots. On his head he had a
+gold-braided _képi_. Joffre is of middle height, strong and sturdily
+made, broad-shouldered and with a figure stout and heavy. His face is
+full, genial, and attractive, browned like the faces of men who have
+lived and worked in the tropics, and with a white moustache which gave a
+somewhat benevolent air. He was evidently interested in the march past
+of our regiment, for he walked three or four paces forward from his
+staff and towards us, and seemed to take in all the details of men and
+equipment as his eye scanned up and down. His salute was given with the
+careful exactness and ceremony always bestowed by the French upon this
+act, which the British officer goes through so casually.
+
+Joffre did not look the dazzling military leader of romance, but he
+looked very business-like. Here was not the lean figure and the hawk nose
+of a Wellington, the glittering swagger of a Murat, or the inscrutable
+pose of the little Grey Man of Destiny. Yet this broad, homely,
+comfortable, and democratic figure standing by the roadside and carefully
+observing us, is the most powerful man in France to-day—the man against
+whom no political criticism is levelled, the idol of the soldiers, and
+in whom the people of France have such a simple faith. He is called “Our
+Joffre,” and the possessive phrase indicates the pride the people and
+army feel in him. The French will tell the following story, which has
+gone the rounds, with great gusto. After a big battle in Poland, Von
+Hindenberg’s Chief of Staff contracted a “political illness” and was sent
+to Berlin to recover his health. The Kaiser wired to Hindenberg, “Whom
+do you nominate for your new Chief of Staff?” The reply came back, “Would
+like Joffre.”
+
+French officers at the front will tell you that Joffre is an Aristides
+the Just; that he ordered the shooting of four French Generals early in
+the war because they were traitors to France, and that he has “retired”
+all the old Generals who are slow to think and too fond of cocktails to
+be good campaigners; that he speedily rewards ability and initiative by
+promotions on the field, and is merciless on an officer—no matter of what
+rank—who shows incompetence.
+
+Joffre was met early in the War of the Trenches by an old friend, who
+greeted him with, “Well, how are things going?” The General’s eyes
+twinkled humorously as he replied, “Laissez-moi faire, je les grignotte”
+(“Leave me alone, I am nibbling them”). A French surgeon who knows
+Joffre, told me that he is a good sleeper, and that during the worst days
+he never missed one night’s sleep. It was Shakespeare’s Cæsar who said, I
+think, to Mark Antony:
+
+    “Let me have men about me that are fat,
+    Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o’ nights.”
+
+Joffre has never interested himself in politics, and he is one of the
+few great Frenchmen who have avoided the glamour of the political stage
+on which so many ephemeral reputations have been made and so many good
+ones blasted. Joffre, like most men who “do” things, is a silent man. I
+am glad that I have seen “Joffre _le taciturne_,” and been privileged to
+salute him.
+
+Joffre and French are both over sixty years of age. Pau, the one-armed
+French General, known as the “Thruster,” is a veteran of the War of
+1870. Gallieni, the “rock of Paris,” the General destined to hold
+Paris when Von Kluck was bearing so hastily down on the capital, is
+an old man. Von Hindenberg, the pride of Germany, is sixty-seven. Von
+Kluck, the Commander of the right wing of the German Army, who so
+furiously hacked his way almost to the gates of Paris, and was rolled
+back in a crushing defeat, is over seventy years of age. Napoleon and
+Wellington were forty-six at Waterloo. Nelson died at forty-seven. Ney
+was thirty-five when he was shot. Von Roon, the German Minister of War
+in the Franco-Prussian War, was sixty-seven when the campaign began.
+Bismarck was then about fifty-five, and Von Moltke was an old man—a
+septuagenarian. Are we too old at forty? No. I knew a chaplain at the
+front who was fifty-eight years of age. In times of peace he took very
+little physical exercise; he was a student, a scholar, and an author.
+I have seen this chaplain march mile after mile in rain and mud, and
+under a broiling sun on dusty roads, and he was then fitter than he ever
+had been before, and could eat bully beef and hard biscuits like the
+hungriest youngster. He had the face and eyes and voice of a young man,
+and he laughed like a merry boy.
+
+We left Compiègne at 3 p.m.; our horses and waggons were entrained and
+officers and men got into an old and evil-looking “100th” class carriage
+and again set off for a destination unknown. No one seemed to know where
+we were off to, but the entraining and route were really well carried out
+by the staff of the railway. At Amiens we received orders to get off at
+Abbeville, and after a tiring journey we reached the mouth of the Somme
+at 2 a.m. The waggons and horses were quickly taken out, and in the dark
+we trekked through Abbeville across open country to Gapennes, nine miles
+away. Here we met the 13th Field Ambulance, temporarily quartered in a
+most luxurious château. Our little party was dead beat for want of sleep,
+and some of us lay down on the floor of the village schoolhouse and slept
+heavily for three hours. The school was not “in” that day, otherwise I am
+sure the children would have been highly entertained to see three weary
+doctors in khaki soundly slumbering on the floor.
+
+Still sleepy, we again had to take the road and tramp the weary miles. A
+large number of French ambulances passed us going back to Abbeville, and
+we heard that there had been some very hard fighting on the French left
+wing.
+
+The 13th British Infantry Brigade caught up with us, and we pulled aside
+to let them pass. The officers told us that they were in a hurry—that the
+French had moved up a lot of troops to the south of Lille and that the
+whole British Army was to form up on the left of the French, and that
+terrific fighting was going on round Lille and Arras, and French and
+German cavalry screens had met farther west.
+
+[Illustration: COMPIÈGNE, SHOWING THE BROKEN BRIDGE.]
+
+[Illustration: AMBULANCE CROSSING THE OISE ON A PONTOON BRIDGE.]
+
+At 5 p.m. we found the headquarters of our ambulance located in a
+pig-sty of a farmhouse and were told that it was to move off shortly
+and march through the night. All the romance of night marching had gone
+for us, and we wanted to sleep. We were tired of walking, tired of
+everything, tired of the war, and vaguely wondered why we had been so
+foolish as to leave England.
+
+So at nine o’clock on the same evening off we marched again into the
+outer darkness of a depressing, gloomy night, and we were on our feet
+through the whole of it. Most of the time we were standing by the
+roadside waiting for the congestion of the long columns in front to ease
+off. Sometimes we would sit in a ditch by the roadside and go off to
+sleep, only to be wakened a minute after by the cry, “Forward!”
+
+About 6 a.m. we reached Croisette. The name sounds attractive, but it
+really was a mean-looking farmhouse at a cross-road; however, we got a
+very good breakfast of coffee, bread and fresh butter, and eggs. The
+farmer’s wife was anxious to know how the war was going on. She rarely
+got news, but heard lots of rumours. Everybody appeared to be hearing
+rumours as well as the British Army. We told her that we had killed
+thousands of Germans and were on the way to slaughter those that were
+still left; and as this appealed to the patriotic instincts of the farm
+lady, she was very satisfied with our latest war bulletin.
+
+In three nights and three days I had had only three hours’ sleep, and
+had got to a stage when I marched, rode, and ate my food in a sort
+of subconscious state of reflex animation. In the late afternoon we
+rumbled into Thielyce, and tried fruitlessly to find some billets for our
+officers and men. The place was full of small cottages, and the cottagers
+eagerly offered each to take in one or two men; but we could not allow
+this, as in the event of sudden orders through the night we might not
+be able to get all our men together. We always lived in one large party
+or habitation like gipsies. One old woman of the village was extremely
+anxious to have some khaki soldiers stop at her house. She was curious to
+observe the English at close quarters, as she had never seen one before
+and had heard that they were such terrible fighting men. Our looks belied
+our reputation; we looked harmless, very dirty and dusty, but very tame.
+
+The ambulance was parked in a field off the village street and inside a
+delightful clump of trees. Too tired to eat, I lay down as I was, armed
+cap-à-pie, at the foot of a tall umbrageous tree and slept a dreamless
+sleep.
+
+At five o’clock next morning the sharp call of our O.C., “Field
+Ambulance, turn out!” aroused me again to a world of marching men and
+war; but I was my own man again and optimistic, and no longer wondered
+why I had left England.
+
+We had a picnic breakfast sitting on the grass in the field, and at seven
+o’clock received orders to move off: we were to follow the 13th and
+14th Brigades into Bethune and on to La Bassée, and be prepared for big
+casualties, as a stern battle was expected and the two brigades would
+probably be in action before midday. There was a feeling of expectancy
+in the air that morning. All the rumours about a big battle and all our
+quick movements and marchings by night seemed to presage a clash at arms.
+We hoped for old England’s sake that we would do well; our pulses were
+stirred and we were all very much alive.
+
+We moved off smartly down a fine old tree-lined road towards the sound of
+heavy guns which had been in action from daybreak. On our way we passed
+thousands of hurrying refugees going towards St. Pol. Without stopping,
+our ambulances growled their way through the ancient cobble-stoned town
+on to the big high road leading to Bethune. Here again we met thousands
+of refugees, nearly all young men of military age. We were curious to
+know why these men were not in the French Army, and a French officer told
+us that they belonged to Lille and the surrounding districts, and had
+been ordered out by the French authorities to report at military dépôts
+farther south for training and active service. These “mobilisables” would
+have been good captures for the Germans and a considerable loss to the
+French Army. Amongst them I counted twenty-seven priests in black caps
+and cassocks; they, too, were on their way to shoulder a French rifle.
+One young man I noticed carrying a white rabbit in a bird-cage in one
+hand and a bundle of clothes and boots in the other; he was saving his
+rabbit from a German pie. Another fellow was walking along the road in
+carpet slippers and with a pair of heavy boots suspended round his neck.
+
+The poor refugees looked tired, disappointed, and depressed, and no
+wonder. It is hard suddenly to have to leave your home, your friends,
+your wife and children, and to go away with a gnawing fear that they will
+be in the power of an arrogant and brutal enemy who knows no mercy. We
+pitied them all.
+
+After all, there was no battle that day. We halted on the way some time,
+and then were rapidly marched forward towards Bethune. We were now
+passing through coal-mining towns and villages, and they recalled very
+much the villages and houses round coal areas of Scotland like Falkirk.
+The type of coal-miner and the coal-miner’s cottage are very much the
+same all over the world. These people did not seem very curious or
+interested in our passage through their villages or towns—simply gave us
+a glance at passing.
+
+That night we bivouacked in a château near Bethune and on the main road.
+We could not get any farther forward, for the road in front was blocked
+up by big guns and little guns, ammunition columns, engineer battalions,
+and infantry. We saw a number of waggons loaded up with big pontoon
+boats, and speculated that we must be near water. So we were. We were
+near the famous canal, but the boats were intended for farther west.
+
+After tea in the kitchen of the big château, some of us got on our horses
+and rode into the city of Bethune, now full of troops, and the bustle
+of warlike preparations. There were all nationalities in the streets of
+Bethune that night. Arabs in flowing robes were on horseback in the
+square, looking strangely out of place in this old western city. Spahis,
+French Grenadiers, French gunners, Alpine Chasseurs in round cloth caps,
+Belgian, French, and British officers, and, of course, Mr. Thomas Atkins,
+quite at home, smoking a Woodbine cigarette and being petted and openly
+admired by the women and the girls. We heard here that Antwerp had
+fallen, and thought the news very serious. It was quite unexpected, as we
+had not known that it had been strongly besieged.
+
+At five o’clock next morning we were on the road in a dense fog, and
+after going forward about half a mile were told to bivouac in a field
+near the road till some ammunition columns and guns got past us. This we
+did, but Monsignor wandered off alone farther down the road. We missed
+him for a long time, and when he did turn up he told us that he had been
+arrested as a spy by the French. Two or three French sentries with fixed
+bayonets surrounded him, and I don’t know what arguments Monsignor used
+to convince them that he was an Englishman. But he came back smiling, and
+was evidently much tickled over the whole affair. He was the only officer
+in the British Army, and in fact the only member of the Expeditionary
+Force, who was not in khaki uniform, and it is no wonder that the French
+thought it odd that he should be strolling about “on his own,” looking
+at British guns and equipment. We were all delighted, of course, at
+Monsignor’s arrest, and regretted that we had not been there with our
+cameras. We were quite determined, if he were again arrested, to disown
+all knowledge of him, just to see what the French would do next.
+
+After some hours’ wait in the field we pushed on again through Bethune
+towards the canal. This canal was to us then simply a canal and nothing
+more, but along this belt of slowly flowing water was to be waged very
+soon one of the most terrific and sanguinary struggles recorded in
+history.
+
+As we approached the canal the Norfolk Regiment came up, and we drew to
+the side of the road to give them the right of way. I sat on a heap of
+stones by the roadside and watched this fine regiment marching smartly
+past, and I remember thinking curiously that probably that same day,
+perhaps within a few hours, many of these fine fellows would have fallen
+and many would be maimed.
+
+It is an impressive thing to see a regiment going into action. The
+Norfolks knew that they would very soon be in the thick of things, as
+they were marching on the sound of the heavy guns, but they looked
+perfectly cheerful and unconcerned. That night several of them passed
+under my hands on the operating table, and many more were lying very
+still on the wet earth not far away.
+
+The King’s Own Scottish Borderers passed us earlier in the morning, and
+with them was Dr. D—— as regimental surgeon. D—— was one of the first
+medical officers over the Aisne, and he put through some splendid service
+for the wounded under a heavy fire, and was mentioned in dispatches. Four
+days afterwards poor D—— and his stretcher-bearers were captured and
+sent as prisoners to Germany.
+
+At 11 a.m. we crossed the narrow bridge spanning the now famous canal
+leading up towards La Bassée, and installed our ambulance headquarters in
+the Château Gorre on the road to Festubert. The château had up till that
+day been the headquarters of a French cavalry general, and it was a most
+palatially fitted-up place.
+
+Our long journey was over. We had left the Aisne and taken up a new
+position near La Bassée in the north of France. We were now in a
+countryside destined soon to become the theatre of an intense and
+sanguinary struggle. It was here that our men withstood the shock of the
+most determined and relentless head-on attacks of the enemy. This was one
+of the roads to Calais, and we held the gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE LA BASSÉE ROAD AT CHÂTEAU GORRE.
+
+
+As the fighting is still going on round this district any description of
+military positions or dispositions would be quite out of place.
+
+Our headquarters at Château Gorre was a beautiful two-storied stone
+building, quite modern, and well arranged in every way with spacious
+lofty halls, dining-rooms, lounges, bedrooms, and bathrooms.
+
+When we took up our quarters here we knew that we would soon be busy with
+wounded, and the central hall of the château was at once prepared for
+their reception. Two larger rooms opening to the right and to the left
+off the hall were covered with mattresses and blankets, hot water was
+prepared, operation table opened out, and towels and instruments made
+ready. Just when we had about finished preparations our first arrivals,
+four men of the Dragoon Guards, turned up. They had been wounded slightly
+in the arms and face while advancing along the road towards Festubert.
+Twenty minutes later fifty-four wounded arrived, Bedfords and Cheshires,
+most of whom had slight wounds of the arms and hands and scalp, and were
+able to walk.
+
+Urgent orders came in to send six ambulance waggons down the Festubert
+road. These were sent forward with stretcher parties and six medical
+officers. This was the beginning of a very “bloody” night. All that
+evening and all night wounded were continually coming in. I was on duty
+in the château as surgeon till 4 a.m., when another medical officer
+relieved me. Red Cross ambulances were driven up frequently and took
+away all our lightly wounded and those fit to travel. These were sent to
+Bethune, and thus the château was kept from becoming too congested. These
+Red Cross ambulances had been provided and equipped by British residents
+in Paris; they were splendidly handled, and proved a godsend to us.
+Many of them were converted “Ford cars,” and could carry six lying-down
+patients and one sitting up beside the driver. The stretchers were swung
+on trestles and chains, and fitted easily. Our ambulance waggons and
+stretcher-bearers were out all night and had a very dangerous time at the
+front. At 10.30 next morning the heavy artillery firing eased off, and at
+eleven o’clock occurred one of those extraordinary lulls when all the big
+guns and little guns cease firing and everything seems strangely silent.
+
+A chaplain arrived at the château in the morning and read the service
+over one of our wounded who had died during the night from a broken
+spine. The grave was dug near the flower garden at the foot of the lawn,
+and many graves were dug there in the three succeeding terrible weeks of
+fierce, bitter fighting. On this day the Dorsets, who were in reserve
+and quartered near the gate of our château, went into action and were
+badly handled by the Germans, suffering severe losses, chiefly from a
+concealed German machine-gun opening on to them from near the canal. The
+Devons had to move up later to support the Dorsets, and did it in a most
+gallant style. About two o’clock in the afternoon we had a great number
+of casualties; our waggons were constantly arriving, unloading their
+wounded, and setting off again for the front.
+
+The Red Cross ambulances were evacuating the light cases as speedily as
+possible to Bethune, but we very soon had all our rooms full of wounded
+men and were working at high pressure at the operation table. At three
+o’clock the artillery firing was tremendously heavy, and every gun was in
+action. The château shook with the explosions; every window rattled and
+some were broken. The concussion of the air outside and the terrible din
+were distinctly unpleasant. Then the cracking of the rifle-firing became
+audible, and reports came in that our men were retiring. Shortly after an
+imperative order was sent to our O.C. telling him to evacuate the château
+at once with his wounded and move off the Field Ambulance to the other
+side of the canal. The horses were at once put in the various supply
+waggons. We had only two ambulance waggons at the time, as the rest were
+at the front collecting wounded. Some Red Cross ambulances, however,
+turned up and took away twelve of our most serious cases. All the lightly
+wounded were sent under charge of R.A.M.C. orderlies to walk back across
+the canal to Bethune. Some men with shrapnel wounds of thigh and leg
+also had to walk and get along somehow, and miserable and pitiable these
+poor fellows looked, limping and struggling along the muddy road in their
+bloody bandages. Things looked pretty serious at this moment, and I was
+ordered to mount and gallop ahead to direct the waggons on to the right
+road and to “round up” our poor wounded fellows who were trudging along
+the roads. To make matters worse, heavy rain came on. Big artillery
+practice always brought down the rain. I soon reached the head of our
+column and gave the sergeant the necessary instructions.
+
+On the side of the road there was an old inn or _estaminet_. I pulled my
+horse up here and put two men on duty to stop all our walking wounded and
+collect them into the front room of the inn. I went inside and arranged
+with the woman in charge to light a big fire, make some tea, and have
+bread and butter and anything else she could get ready for our men, and
+to do it quickly. She set to work at once. I had then to gallop back to
+the Château Gorre to help get away the serious cases and to collect any
+empty lorry or waggon I could get. When I reached the château the O.C.
+told me that we had moved up some reserves, and the Germans in their turn
+were now retiring. He said that he would now keep his serious cases at
+the château till motor ambulances arrived. I was ordered to gallop again
+to the head of our column and turn back all the supply waggons, equipment
+carts, and water carts, but to send the ambulance waggons with their
+wounded on to Bethune. It was now dark, and after incredible trouble
+my mission was accomplished and our drivers were already driving the
+carts back. I now looked in at “mine inn.” All our wounded fellows were
+sitting round the fire having tea, bread and butter, and slices of cold
+boiled ham, and looked very happy. I asked the woman of the inn what the
+cost was, and she only charged me ten francs. I never parted with money
+so willingly. The privilege of being able to do something for these
+good lads, and their appreciation of the hot fire and the hot tea, was
+something I would not willingly forget.
+
+The Château Gorre was once more re-established as an advanced ambulance
+dressing station, and continued so for over three weeks. It was situated
+right inside the shell zone, and had many “alarms and excursions” during
+this period, but none quite so dramatic and sensational as that recorded
+above. The work done by this ambulance at the château was extraordinarily
+good and useful, and owing to its very advanced position so close to the
+fighting line it was able to receive and treat the wounded very soon
+after they had been hit.
+
+When the order came to evacuate at the time of the incident related
+above, the instructions given to our Commanding Officer were to get out
+all the lightly wounded cases and to leave the serious cases in the
+château. Our O.C. was a soldier, and he said that if he had to go he
+would get all the wounded out, and that he would be “damned if he would
+leave any seriously wounded man in the hands of the b—— Germans.” Strong
+language at times is sweet music, and our O.C. was a man of his word. The
+wounded men heard this story, and I heard some of them talking about it
+later to each other. The O.C. took a high place in their estimation.
+
+[Illustration: LOW FLAT GROUND NEAR THE CANAL—WITH A TRENCH.]
+
+[Illustration: TOWARDS LA BASSÉE.
+
+Many British dead lie here.]
+
+At the château I was talking to a young lieutenant who had just received
+a commission in the D—— Regiment. He had served as a private at the
+beginning of the war and won his sergeant’s stripes for general good
+conduct and gallantry under fire, and was then given a commission in
+another regiment. He was hard put for a smoke, and could not get any
+cigarettes, but fortunately I was able to give him some.
+
+Ten days later, at Bethune, he was brought in to me with a crushed arm,
+hanging by only a thread of muscle to the shoulder, and I had to amputate
+it under chloroform. He recognised me as the man who had given him the
+cigarettes, and said, “Hullo, doctor, you’re always doing me kind things,
+so now take my arm off.” I was very sorry that I had to do it, but such
+is war and the aftermath of victory.
+
+Next day after our big alarm I was sent back by the Assistant Director
+of the Medical Service of this Division to take up duty at Bethune,
+four miles back from where we were, at the Château Gorre, and to help
+in the organisation for handling and treating our many wounded there.
+Bethune was on the other side of the canal to the château, and during the
+succeeding three or four weeks became a very big hospital centre for the
+British engaged in the direction of La Bassée.
+
+The Field Ambulance headquarters, with the waggons, still remained at
+the château closer to the firing line, and evacuated their many wounded
+as speedily as possible in to us at Bethune. These were strenuous days
+of hard and obstinate fighting, and the casualties were heavy. The life
+of the medical officer was at this place arduous and sleepless, but the
+motto of the Royal Army Medical Corps is “In arduis fidelis,” which may
+be freely rendered “Always do your job.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+BETHUNE.
+
+
+Bethune held a position of great importance behind our lines, for our
+wounded were evacuated thither from the front, and those fit to take the
+journey were then sent on by hospital trains to Boulogne and Rouen and
+then to England. This old city will be visited by many English after the
+war, for many English officers and men are sleeping their long sleep in
+the old cemetery and in various parts of the surrounding country. One
+day, I am sure, a monument to the memory of the brave dead will be raised
+in Bethune, and the mural inscription will commemorate the names of the
+fallen, and place on record for all time the kindness, the sympathy, and
+the generous hearts of the people of Bethune who helped us all so much
+during the hard days of the war.
+
+Owing to its many recent bombardments from guns and aeroplanes, and its
+proximity to the famous canal and La Bassée, Bethune has become a city
+of world-wide interest. Its population was at this time a cosmopolitan
+one. The warriors of the East were in friendly touch with the warriors
+of the West. The slanting, almond-eye Gurkha, the stately bearded Sikh,
+the swarthy fighting men from the frontiers and central plains of India,
+the Turcos with their flowing robes, the dapper Spahi, the black-eyed
+Senegalese, the French Alpine Chasseur, and the splendid Cuirassier, were
+all to be seen in its streets; and there also was Mr. Thomas Atkins,
+making himself, as usual, quite at home with them all, and also with the
+pleasant-faced smiling young women in the tobacconists and fruit shops.
+
+Bethune, with its 14,000 inhabitants, is said to be the home of many
+millionaires—those manufacturing and industrial magnates who control
+the big industries of this thriving and populous part of France. The
+situation of the city is not very attractive. It is surrounded by muddy,
+swampy country, in some places nothing better than marshes or bogs in
+winter, but it is supposed to be attractive in spring and summer, when it
+is “a green prairie land.”
+
+The old square in the centre of the city has a very Flemish complexion,
+but is undoubtedly, owing to the irregularities in design and
+architecture of the surrounding houses and shops, a very attractive and
+fascinating spot. On one side are two fine old fourteenth-century Spanish
+houses built for some Spanish grandees in the days when Spain was supreme
+in the Netherlands. In the centre of the square is an old church and a
+mass of hoary buildings forming an island, and out of this island group
+of buildings the wonderful old Belfry of Bethune erects itself proudly
+skyward. The belfry was built in 1346, and behind it is the venerable
+church of St. Vaast, a product of the sixteenth century, with a very
+ornate Gothic tower.
+
+Naturally the belfry and the tower of St. Vaast proved to be irresistibly
+attractive to the German gunners, and the batteries beyond La Bassée were
+constantly having long bowls practice at them. From the top of the belfry
+one could obtain a splendid view of the surrounding countryside and see
+the shrapnel and big shells burst miles away. Taubes were constantly
+flying over Bethune at this time, but later on they became very chary
+about visiting it.
+
+The life of the old city during the past eight months has been rather
+unhappy, and it has gone through some stormy periods in the past. In 1188
+a devastating plague swept the countryside, causing thousands of deaths
+and plunging the population into an abyss of fear and misery.
+
+When the plague was at its height Saint Eloi appeared to two blacksmiths
+and recommended them to form an association of “charitables,” charged
+to perform the last offices for the dead gratuitously and to help those
+in distress. This curious association exists to-day in Bethune under
+the name of Confrères des Charitables. During our stay in Bethune the
+charitables lived up to their old tradition and took the deepest interest
+in the welfare of our soldiers, made coffins for a very large number
+of our dead, and in their curious three-cornered “Napoleonic” hats and
+quaint badge and bands, solemnly followed the many dead to their last
+resting-place.
+
+Bethune has passed through many sieges in its day. In 1487 it was in
+possession of the Germans under Philippe of Cleves, and was captured by
+the French under Marshal d’Erquerdes at the victory called “Journée des
+Fromages,” and at a later period of its history it was fortified by the
+great French engineer, Vauban.
+
+The people of Bethune opened wide their arms and welcomed our wounded.
+From the Mayor of the city to the humblest little shop girl these good
+people did all they could for our men, dead, wounded, or active. The
+women of the town made delicacies, soups, and special dishes, provided
+wines and more solid comforts, such as beds, mattresses, blankets, and
+sheets. Had I but lifted my little finger and asked for volunteer nurses,
+I could, I am sure, have obtained them in hundreds. Every day while I
+was there I received letters from all sorts of people offering me help
+and all manner of things for our men. On an afternoon at Bethune at this
+time it was “the thing” for ladies to visit L’Hôpital Civil et Militaire
+and see the British soldiers. Our lightly wounded men would generally
+be sitting about on seats outside in the courtyard of the hospital
+surrounded by convalescent Frenchmen and crowds of admiring ladies, who
+had brought cigarettes, chocolate, and cakes for the soldiers of both
+nations.
+
+Although Tommy did not know a word of French and they knew no English,
+they seemed to thoroughly understand each other, judging by the amused
+faces of the elder French ladies and the screams of laughter of the
+younger ones. We could never quite understand how Tommy has won such an
+enduring place in French hearts. The French people certainly like Tommy.
+I was glad to see this everywhere in France, for I, too, like Tommy,
+although he is full of tricks.
+
+A section of the Field Ambulance consisting of two medical officers,
+Royal Army Medical Corps orderlies, waggons, cooks, and equipment had
+already taken possession of the school called L’École Jules Ferry, and
+was getting it into some order so as to act as a Clearing Hospital, or
+temporary Dressing Station or temporary Clearing Hospital.
+
+We were to hold the fort till a properly equipped Clearing Hospital with
+its increased _personnel_ and supplies should arrive. This did not appear
+for some days, and our Field Ambulance section had the herculean task of
+handling all the wounded from the fighting front, where a bloody struggle
+was in progress round the swamps and marshy country towards La Bassée.
+L’École Jules Ferry was situated down a side street of the old city, and
+near the railway station. It was a very large school, with several big
+lofty rooms, many small side-rooms, porches and alcoves of many sorts.
+There was a large courtyard with latrines, and the buildings formed a
+hollow square with part of the courtyard in the centre. The face of the
+buildings looking on to the courtyard had a long sweep of verandahs. The
+orderlies soon got to work, cleaned and swept the rooms, and covered
+the floor thickly with clean straw. No beds were then available. In a
+small side-room off a passage-way an operating table was fixed, and the
+surgical instruments and dressings were laid ready. Boiling water had
+to be carried to the operating room in buckets from the kitchen at the
+end of the building. The hospital was all very crude, but it was the best
+that could be done under the circumstances.
+
+We did not have to await events; the events were there at once in the
+guise of crowds of recently wounded men. Motor ambulance after motor
+ambulance dashed up with its load of wounded. These were rapidly lifted
+out and carried into the building; then away went the ambulance to bring
+in more wounded. Many and large as were the schoolrooms they were quickly
+filled to overflowing. The corridors and porches were then covered
+with straw, and this straw was soon covered with rows of wounded men.
+The paved courtyard under the verandahs was covered with thick straw,
+and again covered with wounded. Every foot, every inch of floor space
+in the buildings and under the verandahs was utilised. In one room we
+had closely packed rows four deep, with a narrow footway of straw down
+the centre of the room for the doctors and orderlies to pass along. So
+narrow was this track, that it required the agility of a mountain goat
+to negotiate it without bumping some poor devil’s feet, and we walked
+along it just as a man walks across a ploughed field, stepping high and
+watching each step. Those densely packed rooms during that long night
+were a lurid and impressive picture of the devastation of war. As more
+and more wounded continued to arrive we had to pack our men closer and
+closer together—gently push one this way, lift another one there, edge a
+third one closer still. So it went on. We had in our rooms a number of
+French wounded picked up and brought in by our ambulances, and also a
+fair number of German wounded. There is no nationality amongst the men in
+a hospital, and English, French, and German all had a little bit of floor
+space and a bit of straw in our schoolhouse that night. All were glad to
+get in out of the pouring rain, and be placed on the warm dry straw, and
+covered with a blanket.
+
+[Illustration: SLIGHTLY WOUNDED AND SICK AT BETHUNE.]
+
+[Illustration: ÉCOLE JULES FERRY AT BETHUNE.]
+
+All these men arrived with the first field-dressings on. Some had been
+put on by the surgeon with the regiment, some by bearers and orderlies,
+some by Field Ambulance officers, and some by the man’s comrades on the
+field.
+
+At first we were so busy “packing” our wounded that we could not
+investigate the nature of the wounds, but we were very soon under way
+with the professional side of our work. Every wound was examined; the
+slight ones were left alone, but the serious ones were re-dressed and
+a rough differentiation of serious and slight cases was made. Those
+requiring immediate surgery were brought into our operation room and
+anæsthetics were administered. All men in pain were given hypodermics of
+morphia, and our orderlies made hot drinks and soups for all those able
+to take nourishment. There were, of course, many men lying unconscious
+with severe brain wounds, and most of these men died next day. The brain
+injuries were amongst our most hopeless cases, but fortunately these poor
+fellows suffered no pain whatever, and slept stertorously till death.
+There was one particularly fine, strapping, young giant lieutenant of a
+Scotch regiment who was comfortably placed on straw and covered with a
+blanket, and who lay quietly sleeping, with gentle and easy respirations,
+all the night till the next forenoon, when he suddenly became quite
+still. The top of his head had been blown completely away.
+
+The crowds of wounded behaved like brave men and took their gruelling
+like good sportsmen. Next day the pressure was relieved by the opportune
+arrival of a hospital train, and we were enabled to evacuate 250 of the
+cases fit for transport. More doctors and Red Cross dressers were sent
+to help, and the vacant places of the 250 sent away were occupied by the
+arrival of another 300.
+
+As the pressure for beds showed no signs of easing off, and as the
+reports from the front were that the fighting was still violent and
+obstinate, a search was made for another building to hold more wounded.
+This was found at L’Hôpital Civil et Militaire, a permanent hospital of
+the city of Bethune. It was a hospital of three stories, built of brick
+round three sides of a big hollow square. The fourth side was occupied by
+the porter’s lodge, the two gateways, and the residential quarters of the
+Reverend Mother and Sisters of the Order of St. Francis, who formed the
+nursing staff. The basement wards of one wing were for French military
+patients, and the other wings were for civilian patients; but as a matter
+of fact military wounded were put in all the wards except the midwifery
+ward, which was full of young babies and mothers. One of these young
+mothers, by the way, had just become the proud possessor of triplets. I
+had a look at them, and they seemed very fit. Their father had been away
+for the past three months in the trenches of the Argonne, but permission
+had been asked to enable him to come down and see how well his wife had
+done.
+
+The top story of the hospital had two large empty wards, each capable
+of holding seventy patients placed fairly closely together. I asked
+permission of the Reverend Mother and the hospital secretary to use these
+wards for the reception of our wounded.
+
+“But yes,” I was eagerly told; “you are welcome, and we shall do all
+we can for your English wounded.” I was also offered the use of three
+side-rooms and part of another small ward for any wounded officers,
+and—greatest boon of all—the use of the two operating theatres of the
+hospital. These operating theatres were modern and splendidly equipped
+with good surgical iron operating tables, suitable for adjusting in any
+position, sterilisers for instruments, dressings, aprons, and operating
+towels, glass cases full of the latest type of instruments, and hot and
+cold water taps controlled by foot-pedals on the floor.
+
+The lighting was all that one could desire. My joy knew no bounds now,
+for I felt that at last I would be able to do good surgery and clean
+surgery. Up till now the surgery I had done on the field was crude and
+not very clean. It was absolutely impossible to be otherwise, for we
+were the victims of stern military circumstances. But now things would
+be different, and our wounded men and officers would get the benefit of
+surgical cleanliness.
+
+I asked the Reverend Mother if she would prepare one hundred straw
+mattresses for me, and get in some blankets. “But yes” I would get
+them; and also Monsieur le Docteur would have tables put in the centre
+of the wards for the dressings, and would have basins and towels. An
+electrician would fix up electric lights, and a kitchen stove would be
+put in a side-room for cooking soup, boiling water, etc. I reported all
+this to Surgeon-General P——, and that able officer quickly grasped the
+possibilities of this hospital, installed me there as operating surgeon,
+and directed that all serious cases requiring surgical operation should
+be sent to me. A real Clearing Hospital arrived in the town next morning,
+and next day took in patients. It established itself in the “College for
+Young Ladies,” and very soon the spacious quarters of this big building
+were filled with wounded and sick men. For besides our wounded at this
+time we had also a large number of sick. This hospital also sent me any
+case requiring surgical operation.
+
+Work at my wards proceeded apace. The women of the city rushed eagerly
+to assist, and in a _clin d’œil_ had made 180 straw mattresses, provided
+blankets, hot-water bottles, and other sick-room adjuncts. The position
+in Bethune was now as follows. One Clearing Hospital at the College for
+Young Ladies, one at the school “Jules Ferry,” and my surgical wards,
+only for serious cases, at L’Hôpital Civil et Militaire. All three
+buildings were soon full, and over seven thousand wounded men passed
+through these buildings in less than three weeks.
+
+Sir Anthony Bowlby, consulting surgeon to the Army, constantly visited
+this hospital, and was always a welcome visitor; and his surgical opinion
+was as welcome as his encouragement and cheeriness of manner.
+
+The operating theatre was presided over by Sister Ferdinande, a trained
+and capable nurse, with rigid antiseptic and aseptic principles. All I
+had to do was to tell her that I was going to amputate a limb or do a
+trephining operation, and ask her when she would be ready. At the agreed
+time everything was certain to be prepared, and I just had to scrub up,
+put on my sterilised apron, cap, and rubber gloves, and be ready for
+my part of the _séance_. The Reverend Mother Superior was a trained
+anæsthetist and administered chloroform to many of my cases during
+the three weeks I was there. Some days I have had her administering
+anæsthetics for seven hours. Seven hours’ continuous administration,
+broken only by the taking out of one patient and the bringing in of
+another, is a big test of endurance for a young man; yet this old lady
+did it smilingly and well, and said it was “indeed nothing.”
+
+There were two Irish nuns at this hospital; one spoke French well, one
+was just learning, but both spoke “Irish,” which is good English. These
+two nuns were put on nursing duty in my wards, and they were hugely
+delighted to get amongst the British wounded and to hear their countrymen
+talk. Tommy Atkins was delighted with the two Irish nuns, and told them
+some wonderful stories about the fighting and about the Germans. One of
+them asked me if I really thought that Private S—— of the Warwicks had
+shot two hundred Germans one afternoon. I told the sister that I did not
+know, but hoped he had. These two sisters were at work in the wards night
+and day. They told me one day that they had never heard a soldier swear.
+I was very glad to hear this, for it showed that Tommy was behaving
+himself, and I did not tell the sister that Tommy on occasion was a very
+past master in strange oaths. The sisters were very concerned about the
+lice on our soldiers’ shirts and flannels; and really this was a terrible
+source of anxiety to all medical officers at this time, for these cursed
+parasites would make the lot of our wounded men unbearable at times. One
+man with a fractured leg put up firmly in splints begged me to take the
+splints off so that he could “scratch the leg.” I had really in the end
+to take off the splint, bathe the skin in petrol, and dust sulphur on
+the cotton wool, for lice had worked their way down into the warm wool
+next the skin, and by their “promenading” about had set up the irritation
+which the soldier begged to scratch. The sister once said to me that she
+used to think that the British soldiers were the most cleanly of men,
+but she found really that they were all covered with lice. I told the
+wondering-eyed sister that it was a regrettable fact, but nevertheless
+true, that the whole British Army at the front was lousy.
+
+When our wounded arrived at the hospital they were speedily placed on
+the straw mattresses, quickly undressed by the sisters and other helping
+nuns, and covered with warm sheets and blankets and surrounded with hot
+bottles. Basins of hot water and soap were brought round and then the men
+were washed and cleaned. Their lice-infected shirts and underclothing
+were sterilised by dry heat.
+
+It was the finest example of _l’entente cordiale_ to see the French
+nuns taking off the muddy boots and puttees, cutting off blood-stained
+clothing, washing and cleaning the wounded, slipping on warm dry shirts,
+and tucking the blankets and pillows comfortably. Others appeared
+with hot soup, hot coffee, red wine, and hot gruel. These nuns were
+magnificent.
+
+I wrote to Lord Grey, late Governor-General of Canada, asking him to
+bring to the notice of Her Majesty Queen Alexandra the splendid work
+performed by these ladies. Lord Grey very kindly did so, and also sent
+a copy of my letter to His Majesty the King, who replied through Lord
+Stamfordham that he had read it with much interest. Queen Alexandra sent
+the following letter to the Reverend Mother Superior of the Franciscan
+Sisters at Bethune:
+
+    “I have learned from Dr. Martin of your noble and heroic
+    devotion for our brave and unfortunate wounded soldiers, and it
+    is with a heart full of gratitude that I ask you to accept my
+    most ardent and warmest thanks.
+
+    “I pray God that He will reward you for the angelic care that
+    you have bestowed on our unfortunate soldiers, and I will never
+    forget that it is to you, madame, and your sisters, that they
+    assuredly owe their life and their recovered health.
+
+                                                        “ALEXANDRA.”
+
+This letter was published in all the leading French and British papers,
+including the _London Times_, _Tablet_, _Daily Mail_, _Figaro_, _Le
+Journal_, _Le Temps_, in February 1915, and excited very considerable
+interest and attention in France. The Abbé Bouchon d’Homme, the Aumonier
+to the hospital, wrote me later to say that the Reverend Mother and the
+Sisters were delighted beyond measure at Queen Alexandra’s gracious
+message.
+
+It may not be out of place now to describe briefly the nature of some of
+the wounds met with during the fighting at La Bassée. The non-medical
+mind is as interested in the wounds and sufferings of our men as are
+the doctors, and it is to the intelligent interest of the layman we owe
+so much of what has been done for our wounded and sick men. Compound
+fractures and splintered bone, septic wounds, tetanus, brain injuries,
+inoculations, etc., are words freely bandied about and understood by
+any group of ladies met together round an afternoon tea-table. Mrs.
+Smith-Jones will tell Mrs. Jones-Smith that her son is in hospital with
+a septic compound fracture and that the wound is being fully drained,
+and Mrs. J.-S. will reply that her sister’s husband, Captain X—— of the
+R.F.A., is recovering from a penetrating wound of the lung, but has
+still some pleural effusion. So no apology is further necessary when
+referring to such a thing as gas gangrene.
+
+Gas gangrene was one of the terrors of the doctors at this time. It was
+a new and totally unexpected complication of the wounds, and at first
+we did not know what to do in the face of this pressing danger. A man
+would get, say, a flesh wound of the arm or leg, or perhaps a fractured
+bone, and very soon the whole limb would become gangrenous and die.
+Gangrene means death of the part. It may be death of a small part or of
+a large part, and the worst feature of the form of gangrene met with at
+Bethune was its tendency to rapid spread, resulting in the speedy death
+of the limb and of the patient. We had many deaths from this terrible
+gas gangrene, and performed many amputations to save lives. A good
+surgeon hates to amputate a limb, and will gladly exert all his skill and
+knowledge to save even a toe. It was heartrending to have to perform so
+many amputations at Bethune, and yet these serious mutilating operations
+had to be performed in order to save lives.
+
+The gangrene was caused by a group of bacilli called anærobes, amongst
+which may be many organisms. About ten different organisms have been
+obtained from cases of gas gangrene, and these all belong to the same
+family of anærobic bacilli. They are all spore-bearing, and grow in
+the absence of air. These bacilli are found in the soil in France and
+Belgium, and are always to be found in the soil of those countries which
+have been closely cultivated for centuries past.
+
+If a guinea-pig is inoculated with a sample of this earth shaken up in a
+little water it will develop this gas gangrene and die. Imagine, then,
+this picture. The soil of the trenches is full of these organisms, which,
+if introduced into an open wound, grow and spread and cause the limb to
+become gangrenous. As the organism spreads up the limb it produces a gas
+of its own, and by pressing on the skin one can feel this gas cracking,
+like tissue paper, under the fingers. The treatment is to inject the
+parts with oxygen or peroxide of hydrogen, to make free incisions round
+the wound, thoroughly cleanse the wound and keep it clean. The general
+condition of the patients required great care, for they were all very,
+very ill. When a man got wounded in the trenches some dirt was bound to
+get into the wound, for the men’s hands and clothes were usually caked
+with mud.
+
+It is a natural movement to clap a hand on the wounded spot. If a man
+is struck on the face or limbs, he will lay down his rifle or perhaps
+drop it, and at once put his hand on the injured part to ascertain the
+extent. It is a movement which is almost involuntary. I have seen hit men
+do this often, and when they withdraw their hand they always look at it
+to see if there is any blood, and the bravest man does not like to see
+his own blood. The hands of the men in the trenches were infected with
+the bacilli of this gas gangrene and of tetanus, and when these infected
+fingers touched a recent wound, the wound itself became infected with
+these highly dangerous organisms.
+
+Pieces of khaki cloth, caked in mud, were often driven into the wounds
+with the bullets and shrapnel, and on this cloth there were of course
+millions of the deadly little beasts.
+
+If the case reached us soon after the onset of gangrene a cure could
+almost certainly be promised. If the case arrived late, when the limbs
+were dead, amputation was the only “conservative treatment” that one
+could adopt. Many of the cases sent to me were beyond any hope of
+recovery and soon died. On one day I saw in one Clearing Hospital in the
+town four cases dying from gas gangrene; in the other Clearing Hospital,
+two cases _in articulo mortis_ from the same trouble; and in my own,
+one other case. Seven cases dying on one day from gas gangrene! None of
+these had been operated upon. This will give some idea of the formidable
+character of this complication.
+
+None but the very serious cases were sent to me. Many cases of gas
+gangrene were evacuated early and sent to the Base Hospitals. Most of
+my cases came from one or other of the Clearing Hospitals in this town.
+Some arrived direct from the Field Ambulances. In every amputation for
+gas gangrene performed at this hospital the limb was absolutely dead and
+beyond the possibility of any treatment short of amputation. All the
+patients were in an extremely grave state, and their general condition
+was in every case very bad. I cannot picture any worse surgical subject
+than these men with gas gangrene. Numbers of them were in too low a
+state to admit of a general anæsthetic, and here the necessary operations
+were performed under conduction anæsthesia.
+
+Dr. F——, an eminent French surgeon in charge of the French wounded in
+this town, saw many of my cases before, during, and after operation. I
+had the privilege also of seeing his gangrene cases at this time. He
+had amongst the French wounded the same experience as mine. Both of us
+had German wounded to treat, and here also we met dead limbs from gas
+gangrene. We were both of the opinion that the Germans at this place were
+also up against a very virulent “culture” here, that of the anærobe. Some
+wounded French refugees were brought into this hospital at this period,
+and some of these had gas gangrene. The serious character of gas gangrene
+at this time could only be recognised at the front. The serious cases
+were retained here for operation. I am of the opinion that all cases of
+gangrene should be treated at the front at the nearest Clearing Hospital,
+and that no case should be sent to the Base till the gangrene had
+disappeared, subject, of course, as always, to the military situation.
+All the wounded admitted to this town—French, British, and German—came
+from the same area of the battle front.
+
+In many of the cases of gas gangrene bones were badly shattered and
+pulverised, splinters of bone were lying in surrounding muscles, or had
+been driven out through the skin. Important nerves were injured, torn,
+or compressed in many of them. Important blood-vessels were frequently,
+but not invariably, injured. In some, big vessels had been torn through;
+in others, arteries and nerves were compressed by displaced fragments
+of bone. The wounds were dirty in most cases. The skin was black and
+lacerated, and muscles were extruded and covered with coagulated blood
+clots.—Wound full of blood clots, and containing at times pieces of khaki
+cloth, shrapnel fragments, nickel casing of bullets, gravel, and, in two
+cases, bits of rock.—So runs the record in my notes. There were, however,
+cases in which the bullet had drilled an apparently clean hole through
+a joint, like the wrist or ankle, without much apparent destruction to
+bone. In such cases one would not expect gas gangrene; yet it sometimes
+occurred.
+
+Gas gangrene is encouraged by tight bandaging, and many of the cases
+had a bandage applied all too firmly. When a man is wounded in a trench
+his mate frequently applies the first-aid dressing, and fixes it like a
+tourniquet. This could perhaps be obviated by making the bandage of the
+first field-dressing a little wider than at present. A narrow bandage
+tends to become cord-like.
+
+All the cases of gas gangrene had a very penetrating putrefactive
+smell, which is quite characteristic. The area of advancing gangrene
+is preceded by an œdematous zone, which fades in one direction to the
+area of healthy skin and in the direction towards the wound to a dullish
+injected area which crackles on palpation. Nearer the wound the skin
+is purplish and dark. Around the edges of the usually jagged wound the
+tissues were black or greenish-black. Extravasated blood undermined the
+skin all round the wound. The wound itself was full of blood clots. The
+limb distal to the wound was swollen, greenish-black, covered with green
+blebs, cold, insensitive, and pulseless in the “dead” limbs. Frequently
+toes and fingers were quite black. In other serious cases there might be
+a little warmth or a slight pulse. If any case showed either of these
+two favourable signs, an attempt was made to save the limb, and was in
+many cases successful. The gangrene did not spread up a limb in an even
+circle. For example, it might reach anteriorly to the lower third of the
+thigh, and posteriorly be at or well above the fold of the buttock. This
+was due to the extravasated blood lying more towards the dependent parts
+and to gravity. In the upper arm the gangrene travelled rapidly up the
+inner side along the course of the big blood-vessels. The invasion spread
+upwards; very little crackling was felt below the site of the wound.
+The circulation below seemed to be rapidly cut off, and that portion of
+the limb underwent the changes associated with a complete circulatory
+block. Wounds of the thigh with shattering of the femur, wounds of
+the elbow-joint and of the metatarsus were very prone to develop this
+gangrene. Some of the cases were admitted within thirty-six hours after
+receipt of the wound, with well-marked gangrene.
+
+In every case of amputation performed there was nothing else to be
+done in order to save life. The limbs were dead. In many of these cases
+important blood-vessels were torn, crushed, or compressed, and when the
+vessels were injured the gangrene developed more quickly and spread more
+rapidly. It is regrettable that one had to perform so many amputations
+at this time, but it is a matter for congratulation that so many
+lives were saved. One of the cases died suddenly twelve hours after a
+disarticulation at the shoulder-joint. Another one died three days after
+amputation at the hip-joint, from gangrene which progressed steadily on
+to the lower abdomen. There were, in addition, five deaths from gangrene
+following wounds of the extremities. These five were admitted in a dying
+condition, and passed away two to four hours after admission. One could
+do nothing for them surgically. Other cases died at the other Clearing
+Hospitals in the town. It was a sad and mournful experience seeing these
+fine young men die.
+
+These cases of gas gangrene were all bad surgical subjects, for in
+addition to the gangrene, loss of blood, privation, and exposure
+subsequent to being wounded, their wounds were dangerous and mutilating,
+and the transportation to the hospital was, sometimes, necessarily an
+agonising ordeal. This will show that our Clearing Hospitals at the front
+should be well and thoroughly equipped with all modern appliances for the
+treatment of shock, and a staff fully alive to this clamant necessity. A
+Clearing Hospital cannot to-day remain as an administrative unit only.
+
+Another complication of our wounds at this time was tetanus (or the
+so-called lock-jaw). When it was recognised that the bacillus of tetanus
+was also found in the soil of France and Flanders, efficient measures
+were at once adopted to combat its terrible effects. Accordingly
+anti-tetanic serum was provided at all the Base Hospitals, Clearing
+Hospitals, and Ambulances, and every man wounded in France or Flanders
+to-day gets an injection of this serum within twenty-four hours of the
+receipt of the wound. No deaths from tetanus have occurred since these
+measures have been adopted.
+
+Tetanus caused many deaths at the beginning of the war, not only amongst
+our own soldiers, but also amongst the Belgians, French, and Germans.
+When tetanus manifests itself, when the convulsions and muscular spasms
+come on, it is a terrible malady to treat, and most of the cases die. At
+this time the injection of anti-tetanic serum does not ensure a recovery,
+but if this serum is given to every wounded man, then none will develop
+tetanus, and that is why none of the wounded men are asked if they
+will have the “lock-jaw injection.” At the front there is no time for
+conscientious objectors.
+
+Shrapnel wounds were always bad; the round bullets of lead always ripped
+and tore the tissues about so terribly. The Mauser bullet did not cause
+nearly so much damage, but it sometimes produced very lacerating wounds.
+The Mauser bullet “turns over” when travelling through a limb, and this
+turning means tearing of tissues on the path of the bullet, and often a
+huge jagged wound like that produced by an explosive bullet.
+
+It has been said that we are treating wounds of an eighteenth-century
+character with twentieth-century technique. The eighteenth-century battle
+wounds were inflicted at close range, and so are many of the wounds
+inflicted to-day.
+
+At Crecy and Agincourt both sides used arrows. The aviators of the Allies
+and the enemy carry steel darts which they spin down on the foe below.
+Bows have been used in the trenches to send inflammable arrows into
+the opposing lines. The Roman soldier advanced to close combat behind
+a shield held on his left arm, and shields have been used at certain
+observation spots by the Germans and in the Russian trenches; our Allies
+have at times used spades for a similar purpose.
+
+Bombards were employed at Crecy, and bombards have come to their own
+again in the trenches from Switzerland to the sea. Hand grenades were
+employed in the Peninsular War, and are employed to-day in this War
+of the Nations. Our men attack the enemy and the enemy attack us with
+bayonets as in the days of the Crimea and the Peninsula, and our riflemen
+pick off the enemy by long-distance fire, and also fire at close range
+into solid masses of them. Even the armour of old days is represented
+on modern fields of battle, for the French Cuirassier goes into action
+with a brass cuirass and helmet; and a French infantry officer of my
+acquaintance has worn a light shirt of chain-mail extending from his
+neck to beyond his hips, all through this campaign, and he said that
+it had saved his life on more than one occasion. In one _magasin_ in
+Rouen shirts of beautifully made chain-mail can be purchased, and the
+shopkeeper told me that he had sold hundreds to French soldiers.
+
+The hardships of the Crimean trenches—cold, rheumatism, and
+frostbite—have been repeated on the Yser. Gangrene was rampant amongst
+the wounded of Wagram, Austerlitz, and Borodino, and amongst the French
+and British wounded at Vittoria, Salamanca, Badajos, and other great
+battles of the Peninsula, and it has startlingly reappeared on the Aisne
+and in Flanders.
+
+Historians of that day refer to it as hospital gangrene, or the gangrene
+so common after any surgical operation or wound of that time. It may,
+on the other hand, have been the same gas gangrene that has ominously
+complicated so many of our wounds in France and Flanders. The bacillus
+which produces this gangrene may belong, for all we know to the contrary,
+to a very old family of bacilli, who would look upon pedigrees dating
+to William the Conqueror with an aristocratic contempt when his own
+stretched back to the beginning of time.
+
+There is one feature of war as carried on to-day which is quite new,
+and that is by poison gases and by poisoning wells and water supplies.
+In West Africa the Germans have been proved indisputably and by their
+own admissions to have poisoned wells and water supplies, and the whole
+world stands amazed and aghast at the devilish and inhuman Germans who
+set free poison gases to overwhelm and suffocate British, French, and
+Belgian soldiers in the trenches. This diabolical and ghastly method
+of murder is without parallel in history, and the bloodily-minded men
+who conceived and carried out this sinister, ferocious thing will live
+accursed all their days and be a name of scorn and loathing for ever.
+
+Although the civil hospital at Bethune was such a grim place of crowded
+wounded, it was yet the scene of much humour. We had wounded men
+belonging to many different countries, and the nuns were very interested
+in all the odd types. Off one of the large French wards there was a
+small room holding eight beds, and a nun brought me in one day to see
+the curious occupants ranged in beds alongside each other. There were a
+Senegalese, an Algerian, a Zouave, an Alpine Chasseur, a Turco, a native
+of Madagascar, a man of the Foreign legion, and a Frenchman. I think that
+the nuns always kept this ward “International.” It was their little joke,
+and visitors were always shown this ward. The patients themselves enjoyed
+the _mélange_. The courtyard of the hospital was a great meeting-place
+for our convalescent soldiers with the French convalescents, and they
+used to sit about on benches surrounded by an admiring lot of French
+women from the town. We also had a fair number of German wounded on our
+hands, and one of them at this time was terribly ill, suffering from the
+after-effects of gas gangrene of the foot following on a bullet wound of
+the ankle joint. His foot was amputated, and he had a struggle for some
+days to keep going, but eventually pulled through. The wounded German
+soldiers were very tractable and easy to manage. They were obedient,
+gave no trouble, and seemed grateful. I cannot say the same of the two
+wounded German officers I had. Both were slight wounds, and ought not
+really to have been sent to this hospital at all. They were truculent
+and overbearing to the nuns and orderlies, and behaved like cads. The
+German has no sense of humour. He takes himself very seriously, and that
+amuses us. He thinks and says that we are fools, and that also amuses
+us. A German once said that the English would always be fools, and that
+the Germans would never be gentlemen. This is most obviously correct. We
+asked a German sergeant-major who had been captured if the Hymn of Hate
+was really popular in Germany. The sergeant-major in civil life was a
+school teacher. He wore big spectacles and had a rough beard, and was
+altogether a very serious-minded man. He assured us that the German hate
+was a very real one, and he took the hymn very seriously. Lissauer, its
+author, is said to be a serious man also, and has he not been awarded the
+Cross of the Red Eagle by the All Highest himself? We laugh at the hymn,
+and this makes the German mad. Certainly we must be fools to laugh at the
+Hymn of Hate. The words inspire and enthral the Teuton, and the music
+uplifts his sentimental soul to the Empyrean.
+
+    “We love as one, we hate as one.
+    We have one foe, and one alone—England.”
+
+The German considers this to be a purely German hymn, breathing the
+spirit of the Fatherland—unending hate. It is his song, and to sing it
+does him good. You can then understand the expression of blank amazement
+on the face of our captured schoolmaster—the sergeant-major with the
+spectacles and beard—when he was told that the Hymn of Hate was sung with
+gusto in the music halls of London and Paris, and was received by the
+audience with shrieking sounds of applause.
+
+The Hymn of Hate sung by an Englishman in an English music hall!
+Donnerwetter! He could not understand. He had no sense of humour.
+
+A Prussian officer was captured in November with about fifteen men, and
+I saw him marched in shortly after the capture. He looked arrogant, and
+one instinctively took a dislike to him, he was so obviously stamped
+“bounder.”
+
+His revolver was in its pouch on his belt. We had forgotten to take it,
+and he had forgotten that it was there. Our prisoner spoke English very
+well, and said that “he wished he had been shot. He was for ever and
+ever disgraced at being made a prisoner. His regiment would not have him
+again as an officer.” The impression we formed, who were standing round
+listening, was that this whining bounder seemed to feel it a particular
+disgrace to be a prisoner of the hated English. An English officer in
+charge at this particular place here went up to our snarling Prussian
+who wished “that he had been killed” and said: “I see we have omitted
+to take over your revolver. It is still in your pouch and probably
+loaded—sure to be. You say you are sorry you were not killed. Well, go
+off five paces over there and blow your damned head off with your own
+gun. I won’t interfere with you, and none of us will mourn for you.” The
+Prussian shut up like an oyster. We all laughed, and the soldiers round
+enjoyed it hugely. The eyes of the man blazed with fury, but he made no
+movement towards that five paces off, and handed over his revolver to our
+English officer, who refused to touch it, and called on a soldier to take
+it.
+
+The Prussian did not see the humour of the situation, and “there’s the
+humour on’t” old Falstaff would have said.
+
+[Illustration: TRENCHES IN FLANDERS.]
+
+A few days after the sinking of the _Emden_ the news reached the British
+and French in the trenches. The French were as delighted as we were. In
+the Argonne an advanced French trench was separated by only the width
+of a road from an advanced German trench. The officer in command of the
+French trench wrote out the news of the _Emden_ fight on a piece of
+paper and tied this paper round a stone, which he flung into the German
+trench. It was received with guttural cries of annoyance. Shortly after
+this time from the German trench came another stone with a piece of paper
+inscribed, “Monsieur, go to Hell.” The French officer, ever polite and
+determined to have the last word, sent back this note:
+
+    “DEAR BOSCHES,—I have been to many places. I have been invited
+    to visit many places in my time, but this is the first time
+    that I have been invited to visit the German headquarters.”
+
+There is a society in London called the “Society for Lonely Soldiers.”
+Its object is to be of some assistance to soldiers who have no relations
+or friends and are quite alone in the world. A young lady of this society
+sent a parcel of comforts to the British prison camp in Germany, and
+addressed the parcel to “The loneliest British soldier in Germany.”
+
+Some weeks afterwards a reply was received from the German officer in
+command of the camp. “Madam, your gifts have been impartially distributed
+amongst all the prisoners. We were unable to decide which was the
+_loveliest_ British soldier in camp.” Imagine a spectacled old German
+officer methodically scrutinising all the British prisoners to ascertain
+which was the “loveliest” one!
+
+Apropos of humour, read this incident reported by “Eye-witness” from the
+front. “One wounded Prussian officer of a particularly offensive and
+truculent type, which is not uncommon, expressed the greatest contempt
+for our methods: ‘You do not fight. You murder!’ he said. ‘If it had
+been straightforward, honest fighting we should have beaten you, but my
+regiment never had a chance from the first. There was a shell every ten
+yards. Nothing could live in such a fire.’”
+
+This from one of the apostles of frightfulness!
+
+Now read this concluding sentence in a letter from a German lady of high
+social position to a Russian lady:
+
+“We wish to carry in our hearts an undying hatred, and we utterly reject
+all useless verbiage on ‘humanity.’
+
+“To mothers and to German women this hate gives a sort of satisfaction
+without which our hearts would not be able to support,” etc. etc.
+
+Read this order of the day, dated 26th August 1914, from General Stenger,
+Brigadier of the 88th Brigade, 14th Baden Army Corps. (This document
+is quite authentic, and is at present in the hands of the French War
+Office.) This is the translation: “The Brigade on setting out to-day will
+make no prisoners; all prisoners will be killed. The wounded, with or
+without arms, will be put to death. Prisoners, even in large organised
+units, will be put to death. No living man must remain in our rear.”
+
+More will be heard of this document at the end of the war. It is a prized
+possession of the French just now.
+
+Yet our wounded Prussian officer, as related above, objected to our
+murderous artillery fire, and said that “we do not fight, we murder.” In
+spite of the tragic side the incident has some humour.
+
+Dr. Ludwig Ganghofer, a Bavarian Court journalist, recently described a
+visit which he had paid to a German hospital in Lille. He there saw some
+wounded British prisoners. Two caught his eye, and thus he writes:
+
+“As I regarded these two sulky pups of the British lion, I had a feeling
+as if every hair on my head stood on end. This unpleasant irritation only
+ceased when I had turned my German back on the sons of civilised Albion,
+and looked again at suffering human beings.”
+
+“Suffering human beings” is good; our two unfortunate countrymen were
+not human beings. They were pups of the British lion—young lions, in
+fact. The German appellation for us is improving. Some weeks ago we were
+“Swine dogs,” now we are “Young lions.” Ganghofer is the Bavarian Court
+journalist. One wonders if that feudal power keeps a court jester.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS.
+
+
+FUNCTIONAL BLINDNESS.
+
+At Bethune some of us met for the first time in this war cases of
+functional temporary blindness, and many other cases were met with at
+various points of the front.
+
+The following example will give an idea of the condition. A young
+officer, nineteen years of age, was standing by a haystack in the north
+of France when a large Black Maria burst near him, rolled him over, and
+plastered him with clay, but did not kill him. The _concussion_ had
+thrown him down. He remained unconscious for half an hour, and when he
+woke to consciousness he discovered he was “blind.” His mental state
+then was terrible. He cried out, “Oh, why wasn’t I killed?” “Won’t some
+one carry me out and put me on the parapet of a trench so that I may
+be killed?” His grief was pathetic, and one can easily understand it.
+A careful examination was made of the interior of the eyes with the
+ophthalmoscope and nothing was found wrong. He was assured by the medical
+officers that he would certainly recover after perhaps a week or two of
+blindness. He was quiet and composed after this, but was a little bit
+suspicious that we were only trying to cheer him up. One medical officer
+then explained to him what sort of blindness it was: that it was due to
+concussion of the nerve of sight, and the delicate structures at the
+ball of the eye; that nothing was destroyed, and that a complete rest
+would bring back his vision. Next day he was transferred by hospital
+train to the Base _en route_ for England. This note, unknown to him, was
+pinned on his coat: “Functional blindness. Any medical officer handling
+this officer on Hospital Train, Base Hospital, or Hospital Ship, please
+tell him that he will fully recover his sight.” Knowing the kind-hearted
+nature of the medical profession, one can be sure that he was cheered up
+all the way to England. I received a letter from this officer’s mother
+some weeks after, saying that her son had completely recovered his
+vision, and was as well as ever.
+
+
+NERVE CONCUSSION
+
+Nerve concussion is a pathological condition that has received more
+attention in this war than at any previous time. A young Fusilier at
+La Bassée was hit by a bullet through the fleshy part of the forearm.
+The wound was a purely flesh one and no important nerve could have been
+struck. He had paralysis of the wrist and hand, due to concussion of the
+important nerves of the forearm. The bullet in its course did not strike
+these nerves. He got completely better in eight weeks.
+
+A Gordon Highlander was struck by a bullet in the right buttock. No
+important nerve was struck, yet he had paralysis of the limb owing to
+concussion of the sciatic nerve. He got better by rest in bed and massage
+of the muscles. A soldier of the Wiltshire Regiment was rolled over
+by the concussion of a bursting shell. He retained consciousness, but
+could not get up or move his right arm. The right side of his body was
+paralysed. He got better by rest. A Bedfordshire sergeant got a bullet
+wound through the upper arm, and paralysis of certain muscles supplied by
+nerves in the vicinity of the track of the bullet. It was thought that
+the nerves were divided, and after the wound had healed the nerves were
+exposed at an operation intending to join the severed ends. The nerves
+were found to be uninjured, and the incision in the skin was closed up.
+He made a complete recovery.
+
+There is also the story of the soldier who suddenly recovered his voice
+in the presence of King George. The story is going the rounds of the
+hospitals, and it is said that His Majesty was extraordinarily interested
+in the phenomenon. This soldier was taken prisoner by the Germans
+during our retreat from Belgium. He was picked off the field in a dazed
+condition and unable to speak. He was interned later in a prison camp in
+Germany and was all this time quite unable to speak. When the exchange of
+permanently disabled prisoners of war was recently made between England
+and Germany, this man was sent back as permanently incapacitated on
+account of being dumb. He was admitted to a hospital near London. One day
+the King visited the hospital, and this man on getting up from his chair
+as the King entered the ward, inadvertently touched a heating pipe which
+was then very hot. He at once exclaimed “Damn,” and was able to speak
+perfectly afterwards. The King was very much interested. Was this an
+hysterical loss of voice or a concussion? It was a mental shock of some
+kind, and the recovery was due to the other shock of touching a hot pipe.
+
+I attended one young officer and three men who had been buried in the
+earth when their trench was blown up. The officer and one man were
+unconscious, and when the man recovered consciousness he was nervy and
+excitable. He had a startled, terrified expression, and when in bed he
+would peer round in a wild, anxious way, and then suddenly pull the
+blankets well over his head and curl up underneath as if anxious to shut
+out his surroundings, or what he thought were his surroundings. He seemed
+really to be living through some terrifying experiences of the past few
+days antecedent and up to the time when his trench was blown up and he
+was engulfed in the mud and _débris_.
+
+The officer recovered consciousness more slowly, and spoke in a curious
+staccato speech; his nerves were completely gone, and he had fine tremors
+of the lips and tongue and fingers. He told me that his memory had gone,
+that he had only a hazy recollection of recent things, which seemed far
+away and dim.
+
+
+DEAF MUTISM.
+
+Several cases of deaf mutism have occurred during the hard fighting
+near Ypres and La Bassée, and these are certainly very curious. The men
+so afflicted have written down that shells burst near them, that they
+were thrown down, and remembered nothing more for a time. On coming to
+again, they were deaf and dumb. These men also show other signs of nerve
+shock; they are restless, troubled with sleeplessness, and have anxious
+expressions. Generally all get completely well in a few weeks, but some
+of the cases remain mute for a much longer time.
+
+
+LICE.
+
+The medical officer at the front to-day has other duties besides those of
+attending to the sick and wounded. He is concerned with the prevention
+of disease, with water supplies, sanitation of billeting areas and
+camps, means to prevent frostbite, and so on. He has also to advise on
+methods of treating and avoiding vermin. Lice are, without a doubt,
+one of the terrors of war. These little beasts are not harmless. They
+take a high place in the sphere of destructive agents. I would group
+them in the class with shrapnel bombs and high explosives. Wherever
+many men are gathered closely together, and hygienic laws, owing to
+military needs, are in temporary abeyance, there will lice be found,
+constituting themselves one of the terrors of war. Officers and men get
+them, and once these pests gain entry to one’s wardrobe they entrench
+themselves in their battalions and divisions, and require very drastic
+efforts to dislodge. In the early fighting in Flanders and in Northern
+France, on the Marne and Aisne, these beasts gave us great trouble. They
+are most active at night when one gets warm in bed. It is not the bite
+that counts, but, as the old French Countess once expressed it to a
+Minister of State, it is “toujours le promenade.” The promenading causes
+irritation and insomnia. Scratching produces excoriations of the skin,
+and then a whole lot of sequent complications. Lice are factors in the
+spread of typhus fever, and when typhus visits an army in the field it
+carries death and desolation to thousands. To illustrate the point read
+this extract from a letter written from an English hospital in Serbia:
+“The great scourge of this country is typhus fever. It was introduced
+by the Austrian prisoners at Christmas. Out of 2500 Austrian prisoners
+at Uskub, 1000 had died of fever and 1200 were down with it. It is a
+terrible disease, and is carried not by infection but by lice. One has to
+take tremendous precautions to avoid these creatures.”
+
+The majority of our wounded taken from the fighting line at La Bassée
+to the hospital at Bethune were infested with lice. Lice invaded the
+clothing of all who handled these poor fellows, and very drastic measures
+had to be taken to combat the scourge.
+
+The following story will illustrate the vitality of these nasty little
+beasts. Our Field Ambulance once stopped at a small town in Northern
+France and was billeted in a French convent. The good sisters allowed
+us the use of the schoolrooms, the kitchen, and some of the bedrooms.
+All the officers were anxious to get their shirts and linen washed. The
+laundrywoman duly appeared and boiled all these articles, and the sisters
+ironed them for us. On the afternoon of the ironing the Mother Superior
+and two sisters came to us in a state of excitement, talking rapidly, and
+evidently overcome with amazement. They explained that our shirts had
+been boiled and then dried in the open air. When they began to iron the
+necks of our shirts the lice sprang to life and were exceedingly active.
+They assured us solemnly that scores sprang to active life under the
+comfortable warmth of the hot iron. I do not doubt the story. The heat
+had matured the chitinous envelope in which the young lice lay, and out
+they came, joyous, active, and sportive on the nice warm surface. Hence
+the amazement, the uplifted hands, and the consternation of the good
+sisters. The riddle of their extermination has not yet been completely
+solved, but measures are in active progress. It is an unsavoury subject,
+but it is a very important one for troops in camp and in the field.
+
+
+SHELL FUMES.
+
+    “Thou shalt not kill,
+    But do not strive
+    Officiously to keep alive.”
+
+A great deal has been written on the effect of shell fumes in this war.
+So much is hearsay and so little really authentic, that one cannot
+dogmatise.
+
+One naval surgeon said that men exposed to fumes of bursting shells
+develop acute pneumonia, which proves fatal as a rule. This is supposed
+to be due to the nitric peroxide produced by the explosion.
+
+Artillery officers have told me that stories were going the round of the
+batteries that the Germans fired certain shells at our aeroplanes which,
+on bursting, set free certain gases which intoxicated the aviators.
+
+A French gunner-major circumstantially related that a German trench
+which had been heavily shelled with turpinite shells was found full of
+dead Germans, standing or sitting in life-like attitudes and with faces
+_quite black_. He said that the look-out man was lying in his natural
+attitude holding field-glasses to his eyes. He was apparently alive, but
+was really dead, stiff, and with black face and hands. These statements
+have not been confirmed, but the stories of similar incidents are many.
+There is no doubt that lyddite and melinite fumes can, when inhaled,
+produce sudden poisonous changes. I have myself seen British soldiers and
+German prisoners, after having been exposed to these fumes, come in with
+deeply yellow jaundiced skin. One man, in fact, looked exactly like a man
+suffering from acute jaundice.
+
+It is also said that the fumes induce drowsiness. Turpinite shells were
+employed at one stage of the war and are to be employed again. M. Turpin
+has recently been at the front with a French battery. Certainly turpinite
+does emit dangerous fumes. Many believe that it is some form of cyanogen
+gas—allied to prussic acid.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The force of these high explosives is well illustrated by an occurrence
+of 25th January. Previous to making an assault the Germans fired a mine
+under our front trench near the railway east of Cuinchy. The explosion
+hurled a piece of rail weighing 25 lbs. a distance of over a mile, into a
+field close to where some of our men were working.
+
+It is reported that on 1st February the detonation of one of our lyddite
+shells in the enemy trenches on the embankment south of the canal, threw
+a German soldier right across the railway and the canal amongst our men
+on the north side of the latter.
+
+At Fort Condé, on the Aisne, the air concussion of a bursting shell from
+a French 75 mm. lifted a large four-wheeled country waggon bodily out of
+a yard and planted it on the roof of a barn. The waggon was not injured.
+A bursting shell is the very incarnation of violence. Lord Fisher said
+that “The Essence of War is Violence. Moderation in War is Imbecility.
+Hit first. Hit hard. Hit everywhere.” The big shells to-day do all this.
+
+The fumes emitted by bursting charges of lyddite, melinite, or turpinite
+must not be confused with the poison gases sent out over our men by the
+Germans. The lyddite and melinite are put in the shells for a definite
+object which is permitted by the Hague Convention, and by the opinion of
+mankind generally. Their object is to burst the shell at the desired
+time and distance, and plaster the enemy with the iron or shrapnel. They
+are not intended to kill, and do not kill by poisonous fumes. The German
+poison gas is intended to kill, and does produce intolerable agony and
+lingering deaths, and for this the German stands accused before High
+Heaven.
+
+
+NEURASTHENIA OR “NERVES.”
+
+Many officers and some men have been sent back from the front in France
+and Flanders suffering from Nerves. These men are not “nervous” as the
+public generally understand that term. They are brave and courageous men
+who are anxious to do their duty. They are, moreover, men who have done
+their duty in the face of a determined foe, have endured great hardships
+and discomforts in the trenches and batteries, and have faced death in
+all the many hellish shapes that it assumes to-day. I said “many officers
+and some men” have been so afflicted, and it is true that the officer
+is much more prone to get “nerves” than is the simple soldier. The life
+of the officer is one of responsibility and worry, but the soldier’s
+mental lot is simpler—he just does what he is told and has “not to reason
+why.” The education and upbringing of the officer are different, as a
+rule, from that of the soldier, and heredity has an influence on a man’s
+nervous organisation. In civil life anyone can call to mind certain boys
+and girls who are more “nervous” than others. I do not mean more afraid
+of danger or more effeminate, but more likely to be exalted or depressed
+by certain circumstances than their more stolid neighbours. What is true
+of homes and of schools is equally true of nations. Unreal though it
+sounds, there is no doubt that the Germans are more emotional than the
+French, and German leaders know full well the emotional side of their
+people. The German is easily exalted and can be easily depressed. The
+Frenchman can be made furiously angry when he is affronted or insulted,
+but he is not easily depressed, and he is too cautious to be easily
+exalted. The German soldier and people must be strengthened and mentally
+sustained by stories of German victories and prowess, but the Frenchman,
+like the Englishman, is most formidable when he knows the worst there is
+to know and is “up against things.”
+
+It may be that our officers who develop neurasthenia at the front are
+more emotional and imaginative than those who do not, but they are no
+less courageous. An officer was sent to England for neurasthenia, and
+felt ashamed to tell his friends that he was sent back as his “nerve
+was gone.” He was not in the list of wounded, yet his brain and nervous
+system had received a wound as much as the man with a bullet-hole through
+his shoulder, and the treatment for these “mental wounds” is like that
+for most other wounds, “time and rest,” but the mental wound also
+requires quietness. The officer with the mental wound, the nerve shock,
+the neurasthenia, cannot be treated successfully in the general wards
+of a noisy hospital. He must be put in quiet and peaceful surroundings
+and live in an atmosphere free from noise, bustle, and commotion. His
+treatment must also be directed by physicians who are authorities on this
+subject. A successful general practitioner or a renowned obstetrician are
+not likely to achieve brilliant results in treating neurasthenia.
+
+Fortunately the medical profession has already arranged special provision
+for these nerve cases, and the results, I am sure, will be eminently good.
+
+At Bethune one able artillery officer was brought into the Clearing
+Hospital suffering from neurasthenia. He had been through the retreat,
+the fighting on the Marne and Aisne, and at La Bassée, and had done
+splendid service with his battery, and had been promoted. When I saw
+him he was walking up and down a room like a caged animal. I wished him
+good morning, and he pulled up suddenly in his stride, gazed at me with
+widely open eyes, and replied in a hesitating staccato voice, “G-g-good
+m-m-morning, doctor.” He had never stuttered before. Then away he went
+up and down again. I got him to sit down on a box and told him to light
+his pipe and talk about himself. He filled his pipe with difficulty,
+stuffing the tobacco into the bowl with trembling and agitated fingers.
+He broke several wooden matches in trying to light them. He had lost the
+fine, practised discrimination necessary to rub a match on the side of
+the box, and he “jabbed” his match hard on it. I lit a match and gave it
+to him, as I was interested to see how he would light the pipe. He let
+that match fall. I lit another, and with this he burned his finger. I
+then held a lighted match over his pipe, and in a jerky way he managed
+to light the tobacco; but he could not smoke properly, and the pipe soon
+went out. In the same jerky way he told me that he was forty-four years
+of age and had never been ill before. He was a good rifle shot, and had
+killed big game in India. He was a fair billiard player, and had been
+a temperate man all his life in all things. Talking in his spasmodic
+fashion, he had to stop for a word, and he then waved his hand about and
+frowned, as if angry with himself for having forgotten it. Up till a week
+ago he had been in perfect health, although the “strain” of the war had
+been tremendous; then one of his brother officers and a sergeant had been
+killed close beside him, and his guns had to be moved to another position
+under a heavy fire. He could not sleep that night, and the firing of the
+guns, which previously had not troubled him in the least, now worried
+him. Next day he could not eat. In a few days he was a physical and
+mental wreck. He was sent to England, and I heard that he had made a
+complete recovery.
+
+One officer developed neurasthenia on the Aisne. His regiment had done
+brilliantly, but had suffered severe losses. The officer said that he was
+going to blow his brains out, so he was invalided into the hands of the
+doctors and later made a good recovery. He was suffering from the effects
+of strain and mental shock.
+
+Another officer on the staff was standing close by his chief when a
+shell fell near, killing his chief outright. The staff officer had to be
+sent home for neurasthenia.
+
+Our wounded often show signs of neurasthenia. I well remember at the
+hospital at Bethune one man who had had to have his arm off at the
+shoulder joint for a bad shrapnel wound. He was dangerously ill and
+semi-conscious for several days. When he had fully roused to his
+surroundings and the knowledge of his weakness he was like a little
+child, crying and begging me to get him away from the sound of the
+firing. He said that he would be happy if only he could get away to
+some place where he would not hear the sound of the guns. On the day
+the German aeroplane dropped a bomb near the hospital the windows of
+the building shook and rattled with the concussion, and this poor
+devil screamed aloud with terror and tried to get out of bed and crawl
+away—anywhere from the sound of the firing.
+
+The French nursing sisters told me that the wounded Frenchmen work
+themselves into a terrible state of excitement in hospital when the
+firing is very brisk. They beg and beg to be taken away to the south of
+France, as far away as possible from the sound of conflict.
+
+These were all brave men with injured nervous systems.
+
+
+SMALL ARM AMMUNITION.
+
+The Germans have charged the British, French, Russians, and Belgians with
+using Dum-Dum bullets. The Austrians have made the same charge against
+the Serbians and Montenegrins. The Triple Entente and its Allies have
+accused the Germans and Austrians of firing Dum-Dum bullets—so there you
+are.
+
+The Dum-Dum bullet was first made at Dum-Dum, near Calcutta. It was
+a Lee-Enfield bullet with an imperfect nickel sheath. This nickel or
+cupro-nickel sheath in the Dum-Dum stops at the “shoulder” of the
+bullet, and the point is therefore bare lead, a continuation of the
+core of the bullet. Some modifications of the Dum-Dum exist. By rubbing
+the point of a nickel-coated Lee-Enfield bullet on a rough stone the
+cover is rubbed off, exposing the core of lead. A saw or file can make
+incisions in the long axis of the bullet exposing the lead this way,
+but leaving the tip covered with nickel. The destiny of a Dum-Dum is to
+break up when it strikes a bone. If it strikes a bone at a high rate of
+velocity it fragments and rips and tears the bone and surrounding soft
+structures. It is supposed to have greater “stopping power” against an
+infantry charge than an undeformed bullet. This supposition is incorrect.
+Certainly a Dum-Dum in traversing a limb or the chest can cause terrible
+and widespread destruction. In wounds inflicted by a Dum-Dum bits of
+the lead core and casing are scattered in various directions. But,—and
+this is important,—the same thing can be found in a wound inflicted by
+an undeformed Lee-Metford, Lebel, or Mauser bullet. The only certain
+proof of the employment of the Dum-Dums is to find them in the trenches
+captured from the enemy, or in the cartridge belts of wounded or
+prisoners. Again, a man may have a bullet wound with a small entrance
+hole and a large, gaping, jagged exit. One unaccustomed to bullet wounds
+would immediately say that such a wound was caused by an explosive
+bullet. But it can be caused by the ordinary Lee-Metford, Lebel, and
+Mauser bullets. I have seen these wounds frequently amongst Germans,
+French, and British. The explanation is that the bullet on striking a
+bone often carries along with it a fragment, large or small, and it
+is this fragment of bone that tears out a passage to the exit wound.
+The German bullet is easily extracted from the cartridge. It is almost
+impossible to extract the Lee-Metford bullet without strong instruments.
+The Germans have made use of this fact to extract the bullet from the
+cartridge and put it back “upside down,” that is, with the nickel point
+inside the metal cartridge case, and the base with its exposed lead
+core outwards. Such a bullet on striking a bone expands and fragments,
+and causes great damage. I am not repeating a rumour when I make this
+statement. I have seen these cartridges with the inverted bullets in the
+belts of German prisoners captured in the trenches. Other surgeons have
+seen them also. The French say that it is a common practice amongst the
+Germans, and so did our men at Ypres. One German prisoner on the Yser
+when confronted with these bullets taken from his own belt, admitted
+having used them. He said that his company officer told him that they
+were useful to break down barbed-wire entanglements!
+
+There is one interesting point about the German bullet, and that is its
+property of spinning on its short axis when it strikes an object. The
+centre of gravity of the German bullet is low down on its base, owing
+to its long and tapering shoulder. It therefore turns over on reaching
+its object. I had on the Aisne one man of the Norfolk Regiment admitted
+with a tiny entrance wound between the great and second toes of the foot.
+The bullet was found lodged in the large heel bone, and its base was
+facing towards the entrance wound. It could not have entered the foot
+in that position, because the entrance wound was too small. A bullet
+spinning round when traversing a limb can cause considerably more damage
+than one that pursues a direct course, and this fact is important in
+brain injuries. The bullet penetrates the skull by a small punctured
+opening, and then whirls round and round inside the brain. It may then
+again strike the bone on the other side with its long axis and cause
+considerable shattering and bleeding. This spinning action of the Mauser
+was a thing that every surgeon had to remember when treating his wounded.
+
+The Hague Convention of 1907 prohibits “the use of projectiles calculated
+to cause unnecessary suffering.” The Hague Declarations of 1899 decide
+to “abstain from the use of bullets which expand or flatten easily in
+the human body,” such as bullets with a hard envelope which does not
+entirely cover the core or is pierced with incisions. The St. Petersburg
+Declaration of 1868 agrees to abolish the use of “any projectile of
+a weight below 400 grams which is either explosive or charged with
+fulminating or inflammable substances.”
+
+The _British Medical Journal_ of 21st November 1914 reports as follows on
+the subject of small arm ammunition:
+
+The British service ammunition is known technically as Mark VII. ·303
+S.A. Ammunition. The length of the bullet is 1·28 inches; weight, 174
+grains; muzzle velocity, 2440 feet per second. The bullet is a pointed
+one with an envelope of cupro-nickel which completely covers the core
+except at the base. The ordinary German service ammunition is very
+similar. Length of bullet, 1·105 inches; weight, 154 grains; muzzle
+velocity, 2970 feet per second. This bullet is pointed, with a steel
+envelope coated with cupro-nickel covering the cone except at the base.
+Both bullets carry out the provisions of the Hague Convention.
+
+There is clear evidence that Germany has not confined herself solely to
+this unobjectionable ammunition. Her troops, both in Togoland and in
+France, have been proved to have used bullets with a soft core and hard,
+thin envelope not entirely covering the core, which type of bullet is
+expanding and therefore expressly prohibited by the Hague Convention.
+
+Such bullets, of no less than three types, were found on the bodies
+of dead native soldiers serving with the German armed forces against
+British troops in Togoland in August, and on the persons of German,
+European, and native armed troops captured by us in that colony. All the
+British wounded treated in the British hospitals during the operations
+in Togoland were wounded by soft-nosed bullets of large calibre, and the
+injuries which these projectiles inflicted, in marked contrast to those
+treated by the British medical staff amongst the German wounded, were
+extremely severe, bones being shattered and the tissue so extensively
+damaged that amputation had to be performed. The use of these bullets was
+the subject of a written protest by the general officer commanding the
+British troops in Nigeria to the German acting governor of Togoland.
+
+Again at Gundelu, in France, on 19th September 1914, soft-nosed bullets
+were found on the dead bodies of German soldiers of the Landwehr, and
+on the persons of soldiers of the Landwehr made prisoners of war by the
+British troops. One of these bullets has reached the War Office. It is
+undoubtedly expanding and directly prohibited by the Hague Convention.
+I am sure that Germany will be terribly upset at this, for Germany, we
+know, pays great respect to the articles of the Hague Convention!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+WE LEAVE BETHUNE.
+
+
+One afternoon a German aeroplane dropped a bomb at the hospital gate, and
+a second one on a house near the gate. They burst with a terrific crash,
+shook the building and rattled the glass and startled us all. The same
+voyaging Taube dropped another bomb in the square of the city, and an
+old woman, a man, and a baby were struck. The old lady had to have her
+leg amputated and died on the succeeding day; the man received a shell
+wound in the back of the head and he died a few days afterwards; the
+baby was injured in the stomach and also died next day. One of our Army
+Service Corps men was struck by a piece of shell on the leg and received
+a serious wound. A corporal of the Army Service ran upstairs to me in
+the ward where I was busy dressing some cases and excitedly told me that
+his back was broken and that he thought he would soon be paralysed. We
+undressed him and found that a small piece of shell had made a slight
+wound on the muscles of the back, but that he was otherwise all right.
+He was reassured about the paralysis and the broken back. Two days
+afterwards another German aeroplane—or it may have been the same beast
+that had visited us before—flew over the city and dropped some more
+bombs, killing some unfortunate people and injuring others.
+
+On the following morning at three o’clock I was in one of the wards
+admitting some wounded men just in from the trenches, when the
+unmistakable burst of a Black Maria was heard close at hand. The shell
+had burst not far from the hospital, and was followed by two more, one
+near the railway station, and one near the college not far away. The
+Germans had the range perfectly, and we expected a big bombardment. The
+authorities decided that Bethune was no longer a safe place for our
+Clearing Hospitals, and we were ordered to prepare for the evacuation
+of our wounded as soon as possible. This was soon done, and all were
+conveyed by ambulance motors to the hospital trains, with the exception
+of seven men. These men were all dying from severe injuries to the brain,
+and no good would be served by sending them down to the Base. So the
+seven poor fellows were put in beds alongside each other in one ward, and
+in three days they were dead, and buried in the now well-filled cemetery
+at Bethune.
+
+The two Clearing Hospitals in the city—British and Indian—were sent to
+Chocques, near Lillers.
+
+It was with a little heartache that I left Bethune and its good sisters.
+We had passed through days and nights of racking work and worry, and we
+had the satisfaction of feeling that we had all done our best. It is
+mournful to leave a place associated with many stirring episodes and
+with many warm friendships, for in times like those at Bethune firm
+friendships were quickly made. In saying good-bye one seems to leave them
+behind for ever—and that is always sad.
+
+The nuns at this hospital were simply splendid all through, and I can
+quite understand how the religious sisters have come to their own again
+in France.
+
+From the earliest times and up till about eight years ago all the nursing
+in the French hospitals was done by sisters belonging to the various
+religious orders. Then came one of the big political upheavals for which
+France has been so noted in the past, and the nursing sisters gradually
+disappeared from the hospitals owing to the hostility of the State to the
+Church and all connected with it. The nursing sisters of these orders
+were at the time of this change well-trained medical and surgical nurses.
+As they were no longer able to exercise their professional skill, and no
+more of the younger nuns were trained in nursing, it followed that on the
+outbreak of war only the older nuns were capable of undertaking skilled
+nursing in the many hospitals. The demand for nurses was a clamant one,
+for from the very beginning of the war there were large casualties. It
+was said that the nursing by the lay sisters who succeeded the religious
+sisters was not of such a high order as in the old days owing to the
+absence of the strict and rigid discipline, the very fibre of the life
+of a sister in religion. I have heard this both from French surgeons and
+from visiting British surgeons.
+
+When the war broke out France was as ill prepared in her military
+medical branch as we were, and she was suddenly confronted with the
+problem of handling and treating many thousands of wounded.
+
+M. Clemenceau, an ex-Premier of France and a Doctor of Medicine, is also
+the editor of _L’Homme Enchaîné_. At the outbreak of war this journal
+was known as _L’Homme Libre_, and Clemenceau so violently attacked the
+medical disorganisation and lack of preparation that the paper was
+promptly suppressed. It, however, emerged next day under its new title,
+_The Man in Chains_, and under this title appears daily in Paris.
+
+Clemenceau’s efforts, however, were continued, and France soon had
+everything in good going order. It was at this critical phase that the
+Franciscan sisters, and the sisters of other religious orders, quietly
+took their places beside the wounded French soldiers. Just as quietly
+they opened up their convents, churches, and buildings, warehouses,
+châteaux, cottages, railway waiting-rooms, and turned them into hospitals
+for the wounded and sick men. Working tirelessly night and day, knowing
+no fatigue and shrinking from no task or danger, and glorying in their
+mission, they performed marvels. The younger sisters were put to
+subordinate nursing duties, and so rigorously trained by the elder ones
+in the principles of nursing.
+
+These juniors are now very competent nurses, for they learn quickly
+amongst the ample material that war provides. The wounded French soldier
+loves and idolises the nursing sister. He demands her presence, and
+makes her his confidante. The nun is supremely happy to be back in her
+old place, and pets and humours the wounded soldier, soothes his ardent
+soul, and, by her skill, heals his wounds.
+
+I do not think that any future government of France will ever dare to
+oust the religious sisters from the hospitals. These quiet-voiced,
+simple-robed women, carrying help and compassionate pity in the welter of
+blood and slaughter, have come “to their own” again.
+
+When writing of the religious orders one naturally thinks of the priests
+of France, and one of the many interesting and instructive evolutions
+taking place during this war is that of the changing relation of the
+people and State towards the Catholic Church.
+
+One has only to be a little time with the French troops in the field
+to recognise and be impressed by their deep attachment to the Catholic
+Church. I visited many churches in France and Belgium during the earlier
+stages of the war, and at all hours, and have always found, sometimes
+few, sometimes many, Belgian and French soldiers on their knees and
+devoutly at prayer in the sacred buildings. Women, of course, were always
+to be seen there, but that was not surprising. It was surprising to see
+so many soldiers.
+
+The French soldier takes his religion seriously in these days, and is
+not ashamed, whenever the opportunity occurs, to enter a church and
+pray. It was rare to see a khaki soldier praying in church; one often
+saw them there on visits of curiosity gazing at the old windows and old
+scroll-work of the churches. The British soldier will always attend a
+church parade, and he will be most reverent during a service, and will
+sing lustily and amen loudly; but a church parade is to him very often a
+drill, and Tommy cheerfully attends a drill parade because it is his duty
+to. In reading letters from British soldiers at the front and comparing
+them with those of French soldiers one cannot help being struck by the
+religious serious note pervading those of the latter, and its absence
+in the former. It may be that we are less emotional than the French,
+and as a nation are shy of writing of our inner selves. It was my duty
+once to censor the letters written by wounded men in a Clearing Hospital
+at the front. The letters were distinctly humorous at times; only two
+discussed matters of faith. In one a soldier was writing to his mother,
+and he said, “I pray every day as I promised you to. I pray standing up,
+and always time my prayer for three o’clock in the afternoon, for that
+is the time when the fellows over the way let off most of their big guns
+and rifles at us.” This man was either a wag and teasing his mother,
+or he really believed in the efficacy of surrounding himself with an
+atmosphere of prayer when the enemy fire was hottest. The other fervent
+letter was from a soldier who had received a slight shell wound of the
+scalp. His was a letter written to a clergyman near London. This warrior
+informed the clergyman that he prayed silently amongst his comrades, and
+daily read a passage out of his Testament. The letter ended up by asking
+the clergyman to send him some Woodbine cigarettes, as he, the writer,
+hadn’t had a smoke for a fortnight and saw no chance of getting one. I
+showed this letter to our field chaplain, who visited this Christian
+soldier in the ward. The chaplain told me afterwards that the man was
+absolutely destitute of any religious beliefs, and had never read a
+Testament in his life; and furthermore—that he had three packets of
+Woodbine cigarettes, and had also smoked a considerable number during the
+past fortnight.
+
+French officers have told me that before the war it was considered bad
+form for a military officer to attend Mass, and that an officer who
+attended Mass regularly need not expect promotion in the Army. Attending
+Mass is not considered bad form to-day, and soldiers of all grades from
+general to grenadier attend the services in the field. Was the religious
+trait there all the time, and only held back by the conventional
+strictness, or has the seriousness of the war compelled a little
+self-analysis and a return to the faith of their fathers? My impression
+is that the priests and the nursing sisters of the religious orders
+have helped to stir up this present state amongst a people who have
+always been, deep down, much attached to their Church and its religious
+observances. Even the Reign of Terror could not stamp out the influence
+of the Church in France, although it turned churches into meat marts and
+blacksmiths’ forges, and plastered their walls with “Liberté, Egalité,
+Fraternité.” The French priest has no official status in the State. He is
+simply a citizen, and is liable, like all other citizens, to be mobilised
+for military duty. Over 20,000 French priests and brothers of various
+orders are serving with the French colours in this war. I have spoken to
+French priests about this law that compels them to serve as soldiers.
+They do not cavil at it, and, in fact, prefer to act the patriot’s part,
+for the priest is every bit a good Frenchman. Be the priest a simple
+soldier in the trenches, with battery, commissariat, ammunition, or
+brancardiers, he is nevertheless still a priest, and is at all times
+ready and eager to exercise his priestly duties. He has proved himself
+time and time again to be a cool, intrepid, and reliable soldier, and he
+has also proved himself in the hour of trial a comfort and spiritual help
+to those about to die. One has heard of hundreds of instances in this
+war when the priest, serving as soldier in the ranks, has conducted Mass
+in some broken-down cottage or barn in the firing zone, buried his dead
+comrades with the rites of the Church, and carried out the last offices
+to the dying. One of the ablest of the French artillery officers, now in
+charge of a battery, is a priest, and in times of peace is a well-known
+Abbé and writer on theology. Another learned Abbé and a great preacher
+was mobilised in July, and was badly wounded at Charleroi. When lying
+stricken on the ground he heard a mortally wounded soldier calling him.
+The Abbé painfully crawled to the dying soldier and administered the last
+office, and while doing so was again wounded. He was later on conveyed by
+hospital train to Paris. President Poincaré had heard the story, and met
+the train on its arrival in Paris. He went into the carriage where lay
+the badly wounded and apparently dying Abbé, and decorated him with the
+Legion d’Honneur. I am glad to say that the Abbé, although now a cripple,
+recovered from his wounds.
+
+The Aumonier to the French Hospital at Bethune was a very fine priest. He
+was not mobilised as a soldier owing to defective vision, but he acted as
+priest and as a stretcher-bearer to the hospital. His lifelong friend,
+another priest and lecturer on Natural History at the College at Bethune,
+was fighting as a private in the Argonne. One day the Abbé told me that
+he had received a letter from his friend describing his life in the
+trenches, saying, “I live the life of a rabbit. I live in a hole in the
+ground. At night I come out to feed.”
+
+A few days after this the Abbé heard that his friend was killed—shot dead
+through the head. When the Abbé told me of this I murmured the usual,
+“Hard luck.”
+
+“No,” said the Abbé, becoming very serious. “It is not what you call the
+Hard Luck. It is the good luck. It is how a good priest would wish to
+die.”
+
+It has been asked many times during this war, “What is Christianity
+doing after the past 1900 years?” and many have answered, “Crucified men
+and women. Mutilated prisoners of war. Outraged women and slaughtered
+children. Cities and towns in ashes. Misery, tears, and the moaning of
+millions.” If this is the indictment, it is not against Christianity, but
+against one people only, that of Lutheran Germany. But these hellish
+deeds of “Christian” Germany have but served to bring more clearly and
+brightly into view the Christian spirit of other peoples’ brotherliness,
+help for the distressed, and that
+
+    “Kindness in another’s trouble,
+    Courage in your own.”
+
+The Belgian and French soldiers fighting at first to defend their homes,
+their women, and their children and old men, and fighting now for
+vengeance to punish the bloody invaders, are examples of a good, healthy
+Christianity.
+
+The open, warm welcome of France and England to the Belgian refugees,
+the colossal funds for the alleviation of distress, and helping of the
+wounded and the sick, show that the “greatest of these,” Charity, is not
+yet dead on the earth.
+
+Our definition of “Christianity” depends upon the point of view. To me
+the Turco and the Gurkha are very good Christians and the German nation
+is infidel. Every General Order issued by the Kaiser ends not with an
+appeal to the Almighty, but with an affirmation that God is fighting for
+the German cause.
+
+The Saxons and Bavarians will sack a town and inflict nameless horrors
+on helpless civilians, shoot old men for sport, kill children, torture
+women, commit sacrilege in the churches, smash altars and relics, destroy
+historic and beautiful windows and treasures of art, bayonet priests,
+violate shrieking nuns, and with hands smeared in blood they will at the
+word of command praise their German God.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER.
+
+
+Our Clearing Hospital remained at Chocques for four or five days, and
+while here had a fair, but not a large, number of wounded. These were
+quickly sent off by hospital trains, which pulled on to a siding not far
+from us. The Indian Clearing Hospital was now also establishing itself
+in the small town, and the Indian hospital assistants were a source of
+great and wondering curiosity to the small boys and girls. Our Clearing
+Hospital was now ordered to a place farther north, and as I had only
+been temporarily attached to it during a time of great rush at Bethune,
+my place was now with my own Field Ambulance at the front, and somewhere
+near the Belgian frontier.
+
+A motor-car going to Hazebrouck gave me a lift as far as there, and
+another driver brought me to Bailleul. Here, after I had reported my
+arrival, Surgeon-General Porter informed me of the exact location of my
+ambulance.
+
+Bailleul is a town of considerable importance in the north of France, and
+has been the object of many visits from Taubes, a sure indication that
+there must be a church or a hospital in Bailleul. The church and the
+hospital were very close together, and the Taubes made many a gallant
+attempt to get them both. One evening one of them got the hospital—a bomb
+fell fair on the roof and into a ward full of wounded men, killing two
+and wounding again a man already grievously wounded. The old church has
+so far escaped. The square at Bailleul near the church was a busy place
+in those days, as the town was a Divisional Headquarters and a corps
+“poste commandement,” and where there are headquarters and “brass hats”
+there also are many rank and file. It was here that, some weeks later, I
+saw that fine battalion, the Liverpool Scottish, parade in the street and
+march out to the trenches. They were standing on parade in the street for
+about twenty minutes before moving off and the day was bitterly cold. The
+bare knees of the men looked blue and the kilt did not impress us as a
+good winter dress. Why Highlanders choose to expose their knees is quite
+beyond me. The knee joint is a big and complex anatomical structure, and
+is easily affected by sudden changes of temperature, so why cover up
+every other joint in the body and leave this bare?
+
+Greatly daring though the ladies are to-day in their draping
+arrangements, they do not dare to walk about with bare knees. What
+prevents them must certainly be their appreciation of the delicacy of
+this joint—the delicate mechanism of an important articulation.
+
+Twenty years hence, veterans of the Liverpool Scottish will tell their
+children how they got rheumatism in their knee joints from the cold mud
+of the Flanders trenches in the year of our Lord 1914.
+
+I left Bailleul on a Red-Cross Wolseley car driven by a queer character
+who used to be with us on the Aisne doing transport work. He was thought
+to have been killed and duly buried, and I was therefore agreeably
+surprised to see my odd friend again. He was a wonderfully cheery
+pessimist. He usually had a long budget of most depressing news, of
+disasters by flood and field, and great disappointments, but he envisaged
+them all with a rosy hue and predicted a great to-morrow. He did not
+like the war, for although it had not changed his occupation—that of a
+chauffeur—it had seriously affected his emoluments. In the piping times
+of peace he would take small parties on touring journeys in France,
+Germany, and Switzerland—sometimes a honeymoon couple, sometimes an
+American millionaire, and he did exceedingly well in tips.
+
+We had a rough passage up from Bailleul and were twice bogged in the mud
+beside the road, and had twice to be hauled out. The roads here, and
+right over the frontier into southern Belgium, were very bad in these
+days. Our men, when on the Aisne, said many hard words about the mud
+there, but the Aisne was an asphalt path compared with Belgium.
+
+However, we slowly squelched and skidded our way over the Belgian
+frontier and reached Ouderdom, not very far from Ypres. For the last few
+miles we had been following Napoleon’s maxim to his Marshals: “Marching
+on the sound of the guns.” The heavy artillery, French, British, and
+German, was making a deafening roar.
+
+This really completed the journey from the Aisne to Flanders. We were at
+our “farthest north,” and this journey impressed one with the length of
+the huge battle-line, although it only embraced, after all, a part of
+the great whole. From Switzerland to the Channel stretched a wavy line
+of trenches, across plains, spanning canals, through and around swamps,
+in front of great cities and small villages, traversing great forests
+and over mountain passes and peaks. At one end submerged country flooded
+by Alpine snow, sand dunes at the other; and in these trenches lined
+with soldiers, and swept by artillery, stern fighting was going on over
+practically every mile.
+
+Our ambulance headquarters was about the most God-forsaken place that one
+could possibly imagine. The first impression one received was a dirty
+pond, full of fetid water and surrounded by heaped-up straw manure. The
+Belgian, like the Frenchman, loves to have a manure heap at his front
+door. Closely abutting on this putrefactive manure was the cottage
+itself, with one front room, a small side-room or box off this front
+room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and another box at the back. From the kitchen
+a rickety stair led up to a windy loft full of corn and hops and bags of
+potatoes.
+
+Next the living quarters and part of the house came stalls for cattle,
+and the _tout ensemble_ was unlovely and smelly. Twelve medical officers,
+two chaplains, and a quartermaster lived in the tiny little front room,
+or crowded round a table in it. When the table was in the room there
+was barely space to pass between it and the wall. Six or seven officers
+slept on the floor of this den at night, and in the morning had to rise
+early, roll up their valises and pack them round the wall. The O.C. and a
+chaplain slept in the box off our only room, and the rest of us slept in
+the loft amidst the wheat and hops and the bitter cold draughts.
+
+Our cooks lived, smoked, worked, and slept in the kitchen, and this
+apartment Madame invaded during the day to do her domestic cooking.
+Madame “with the terrible voice” gave our cooks a bad time, and
+frequently chased them out and took their pots and pans off the fire,
+utterly disorganising our meals.
+
+Madame was not popular, and in my dreams I sometimes still hear her
+raucous voice.
+
+The Flemish farmer, the proud owner of this very dirty and uninviting
+farm, had a family of three little children, and was besides the humble
+husband of the lady whose voice was more terrifying than the screech of
+bursting shrapnel.
+
+Poor Madame, she did not look kindly on us, and we never even saw her
+smile—except once, and that story comes later.
+
+At 4 a.m. her strident, penetrating tones would fill the cottage and wake
+us all to a world of cold and discomfort, of greasy bacon, muddy tea, and
+sodden mousy bread.
+
+She was watchful and suspicious of our men, who slept with the poultry
+in the surrounding stables and out-houses, and openly accused them of
+stealing her straw.
+
+What they could do with the straw after having stolen it Madame did not
+choose to say—perhaps she thought that they ate it!
+
+We met many Flemish besides Madame and her family at this time, and
+although we sympathised greatly with them, we could not bring ourselves
+to like them. It was all so different with the French, whom we liked and
+who liked us. The Flemings did not seem to care for us; they certainly
+never made us any demonstrations of affection. Perhaps it was the
+difference in tongue. They spoke French with an Irish-Dutch brogue, and
+our accent was, of course, a pure Anglo-Parisian.
+
+French officers told us here that they did not like the Flemings, and
+that the Flemings were not cordial with them. Belgian officers, it is
+well known, do not see eye to eye with the French officers, but pull
+amazingly well with the British, to whom they are warm and communicative.
+
+Tommy Atkins as a rule likes every one, but he neither understood nor
+cared for the Flemings. This was quite noticeable. We found those round
+Ouderdom, Ypres, and Dickebusch sullen, dour, and suspicious. We were not
+welcomed, and their surly, heavy manner towards us was very apparent.
+There was no responsiveness, no _gaieté de cœur_, no cheerfulness.
+
+Historical traditions and the likes and hates of centuries die hard. The
+Flemings and the English had often been friends in the past, but the
+French and Flemings had always been on opposite sides of the fence, and
+whenever the French came into the Flemish garden it was to fight, and not
+to play.
+
+We wondered if Madame of our cottage knew her Belgian history. We were
+quite sure that she would have been more amiable and sweet had she known
+that Flanders had been England’s ally in the Hundred Years’ War, and that
+the bowmen of Mons were more than once ranged on England’s side; that
+Baldwin II., Count of Flanders, a former ruler of the land where stood
+Madame’s farm, was a son-in-law of Alfred the Great of England, and that
+Baldwin V., also a Count of Flanders, was father-in-law to William the
+Conqueror, and fitted out Flemish ships to convey Flemish men to Pevensey
+to kill Harold’s Anglo-Saxons.
+
+The Flemings have long memories about the French, and never forget the
+“Battle of the Spurs” or the “Battle of Roosebeke,” for in these two
+epoch-making battles the French were the enemy.
+
+The manifesto issued by the King of the Belgians to his people at the
+beginning of the war in August cited the Battle of the Spurs fought
+at Courtrai. At this famous encounter, a band of Flemish artisans
+and citizens, armed with billhooks, axes, and scythes, attacked with
+the maddest fury a disciplined French army of steel-clad knights and
+men-at-arms and utterly defeated it. This battle reference was hardly
+quite happy when Joffre was hurrying his Army Corps over the frontier to
+Namur.
+
+At Roosebeke, in 1382, the French met another citizen army under
+Philip van Artevelde, and slew him and twenty-five thousand men. It is
+said that Flemish fathers and mothers handed down this bitter tale to
+their children for three centuries, and in later years told of Cassel,
+Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Jemappes, and Waterloo—all glaring
+instances of French turbulence on peaceful Flanders land. So the Flemings
+were distrustful always of the Gallic cock, and had apparently forgotten
+about their connection with our Alfred the Great and our William of
+Normandy.
+
+During our occupation of this mean farmhouse, situated behind its Flemish
+manure heap, the weather was bitingly cold. The rain of the first week
+was succeeded by a heavy snow and frost, and as we had no fire of any
+sort and were not able to take much physical exercise, we were all day
+and night chilled to our very marrow.
+
+November 1914 in Flanders will be remembered by many thousands of
+Englishmen as a month of intense and bitter cold, when to the dangers and
+ever-present death of the trenches were added the miseries and tortures
+of frostbitten feet and legs, and a merciless cutting wind. This was the
+period when men, stiffened and paralysed with cold, had to be pulled
+out of the trenches and dragged or carried to the rear to bring back
+a slowing circulation to the affected limbs. This was also the period
+when men could not be spared from the firing line, when the Germans were
+making those formidable rushes in strong columns, and leaving thousands
+of dead to mark the place where the rush had been stayed and the column
+crumpled up.
+
+The little town of Dickebusch was on the road to our left, and through
+it ran a highway to Ypres. Where the road turned to the right into Ypres
+was an advanced station of a Field Ambulance, and, as one of the medical
+officers of it was known to me, I walked along this highway one morning
+in order to hear the latest news. He was always a very safe man to call
+upon for news, for what he did not know authentically, he would invent.
+The road to this advanced station lay behind several batteries of French
+“seventy-fives,” the pride and glory of the French gunner. The road
+was quite close to these guns, but they were so wonderfully concealed
+with straw and branches of trees that an ordinary traveller would have
+passed them by until their presence was indicated by their mighty roar.
+The gunners were hard at it this morning, pouring an unending string of
+bursting shells on the German positions, and the din was terrible.
+
+Suddenly the Germans got the range of the road. One shell burst far in
+front of me on the road, and one far behind about the same moment, and a
+bolt for cover was the immediate sequence. I got into a dug-out behind
+some French guns and then witnessed a wonderful display of artillery
+practice. Shell after shell fell with marvellous precision up and down
+the road, and one followed the other with a lightning speed. The road
+was excavated with volcanic craters, of flying stones and earth clouds,
+and mighty showers of _débris_ were sprayed tumultuously on every
+side. A French officer pointed out where the next shell would land; and
+he was always right—he knew the “general idea” possessing the mind of
+the German gunner, and correctly surmised that after the road had been
+systematically covered, the firing would cease. It was a big waste of
+ammunition, for nothing was damaged except the road, and the French
+gunners, as soon as the firing was over, ran to their pet “seventy-fives”
+and opened furiously back in order to show that their bark was as good as
+ever. The French batteries at this particular place did enormous damage
+to the Germans in their attacks south of Ypres, and as they are no longer
+at this roadside but somewhere farther on, no valuable information is
+being given away in relating the fact.
+
+The French gunners, both at this critical phase of the war and on the
+Aisne, were wonderful fellows. Night and day, in rain, hail, sleet,
+or snow, their great guns never stopped. In the blackest night and in
+howling gales of sleety wind they could be heard near by and in the far
+distance, for ever pounding into the enemy. This policy of continuous
+fire is wonderfully heartening to the French troops in the trenches,
+and the moral effect is tremendous. On the Aisne the French guns were
+always busy, but the British, alas, were generally silent. I have heard
+men on the Aisne pathetically say, “Why don’t our guns fire?” “Why don’t
+they reply to the German fire?” and the questioning was not confined to
+soldiers, for it was a common topic of conversation amongst officers.
+On the Aisne we did not have enough artillery, and we had not enough
+ammunition for the artillery we did have. It was the same at this period
+at Ypres. England, the greatest engineering country of the world, the
+richest and most prosperous Empire of this or any other time, made a very
+poor showing on the Continent. Small as our army was, it was not equipped
+perfectly. Our army in France may have been the “best shooting army,” but
+if so it was with the rifle. In artillery we were entirely outclassed
+by the Germans and put to eternal shame by the French. On the Aisne the
+Germans had big 8-inch howitzers and we had nothing to meet them. Against
+the guns that had battered the forts of Maubeuge and crumpled up Namur
+what had we to offer? Nothing. The Germans had an unlimited supply of
+machine-guns on the Aisne and the Yser, and we had a paltry few. We were
+short of ammunition, but the Germans and the French had plenty.
+
+When we required high explosive shells to beat down entrenchments and
+trenches we had nothing but shrapnel, which was absolutely useless for
+this purpose. Because shrapnel was effective in the South African War and
+high explosives unnecessary there, it was concluded that the same set of
+circumstances would be repeated in France and Belgium.
+
+In September 1914 I saw the four 6-inch howitzer batteries arrive on the
+Aisne from England, and the news of their arrival spread like wildfire
+amongst our men, who thought that at last “mighty England was sending
+mighty guns.” They were mighty guns right enough, but there was not
+enough ammunition sent with them. As a nation we always muddle through,
+but it is rather pitiful to think that muddles mean the death of many
+brave men, and that our woeful lack of big guns and ammunition has meant
+many British graves in France and Flanders.
+
+A ride through Ypres at this time was an interesting and exciting
+affair—interesting from the historic associations of the old Flemish
+capital, and exciting from the German “Black Marias” falling about. The
+old Cloth Hall was then still standing—only one corner and a door had
+been battered about, but Ypres itself was very mournful and desolate.
+A bombarded town, empty of all its people and with ruins all round
+where once was industry, wealth, and moving crowds, presents a very sad
+spectacle. I suppose Ypres, stormy as her history has been in the past,
+had never been so empty before. At one time 200,000 people were said
+to have lived in Ypres. That was in the days of her splendour as the
+ancient capital of Flanders, when the wonderful Cloth Hall was built by
+the cloth-workers of the thirteenth century, in that turbulent epoch when
+citizens and workpeople were fighting down and curbing the old feudal
+tyranny—for it was in Belgium that the common people established the
+first free city north of the Alps.
+
+On the ride through this famous old city to our positions beyond, the
+terrible evidences of the German bombardment surrounded one in monumental
+impressiveness. Dead horses were lying in coagulated pools of blood in
+every street. Whole rows of old, closely-built Spanish and Flemish houses
+and shops were crumbled and shattered. The _pavé_ was ripped, torn, and
+covered with window glass shattered into millions of fine fragments;
+roofs had disappeared from some houses, and walls blown out of others.
+Tumbled masonry, smoking ashes, and excavated, torn-up roadways—all bore
+witness to the terrible character of the first German bombardment.
+
+In one tobacconist’s shop in the square, just opposite the Cloth Hall,
+the large plate-glass window had been completely destroyed, but the shop
+stood otherwise uninjured and intact. One could easily have taken boxes
+of cigars and pipes by simply putting a hand through the window-frame in
+passing, but although the temptation was there, not one cigar was touched
+by a British soldier. Imagine the genial Saxon or the crucifying Bavarian
+letting such a chance slip!
+
+I got off my horse and led it through the street, as it clearly did not
+like passing the dead horses on the roadway. After having tied it to a
+street-post in front of a fair-sized hotel or _estaminet_, I walked into
+the front bar-parlour, which was open to the street. The evidences of a
+hasty exit were ludicrously patent. A half-emptied glass of beer and a
+full one stood close together on the bar counter, and near them lay a
+good pipe full of tobacco which had not been lighted. On a small table
+in a corner of the café was a tray with two large empty clean glasses;
+on the same table stood a bottle of red wine, and close beside it a
+corkscrew, holding the impaled extracted cork. One light chair near this
+table lay overturned on the floor; the other had been hastily drawn back,
+as was shown by the tracks on the sawdust floor. I thought of Pompeii
+when old Vesuvius belched ashes and molten lava and buried the gay Roman
+pleasure-city as it stood. The Pompeian wine-bibbers and “mine host”
+could not escape from that engulfing darkness and the fiery cinders, and
+perforce died nobly standing by their bottles. But in that drinking-room
+at Ypres there was no dying the death beside the beer and the good red
+wine. No Sherlock Holmes was necessary to reconstruct the picture—the two
+cronies drinking their morning ale at the bar, and the two comfortable
+Yprian burghers waiting for the filling of their glasses from the bottle
+just uncorked, the burly “mine host” in white apron and with bottle in
+hand—all suddenly electrified by a sinister whistling overhead, and
+then the mighty explosion, the roar of falling masonry, the smashing of
+hundreds of window-panes, the concussion of air; then another earthquake
+smash, and then another, till the house and street were rocking with the
+shocks. This was no time to light a pipe, to drink amber beer and ruddy
+wine. It was time to get out of Ypres. So down went the forgotten pipe
+and bottle, back went the chairs, and out streamed our terrified quintet
+to the tormented street, leaving the room and its contents as I saw it.
+
+On approaching the bridge on the far side of the town I saw the only
+remaining inhabitant. This was a middle-aged woman with a grey shawl over
+her head and shoulders, and she was looking out of a window of a partly
+shattered house. I felt sorry for her, she looked so very lonely in that
+broken house.
+
+That afternoon she was arrested by the Belgians as a spy. My compassion
+had been utterly thrown away.
+
+Near this same bridge on another occasion my arrival was providential. An
+Army Service Corps driver was speeding his motor towards the city when
+he was struck by enemy shrapnel. He had just sufficient strength to stop
+his lorry before fainting from the shock and the rush of blood from a
+grievous wound of the right thigh. Blood was pumping out of the wound,
+and it appeared as if the femoral artery had been torn. Fortunately it
+was not, and we were soon able to control the hæmorrhage, put the wounded
+man on his lorry, and drive him back to one of the ambulance stations in
+a cottage near the roadside.
+
+The road from Ypres to our trenches was a busy but pathetic highway—busy
+with marching men, waggons, gallopers, generals, and staff officers, and
+pathetic from the many graves and small graveyards near the roadside
+and the many full ambulance waggons rumbling along on the uneven, jolty
+_pavé_.
+
+The road was frequently visited with enemy shells, and no one travelled
+along it unless on business. “Trespassers will be prosecuted” was an
+unnecessary injunction on the Ypres roads.
+
+The headquarter staff of the 15th Brigade beyond Ypres had a narrow
+escape one morning. A big shell burst in the grounds of the château
+occupied by the Brigadier and his staff. The staff, who were in the
+building at the time, went out to look at the hole it had made. Whilst
+looking at the pit, another shell landed on the château itself and burst
+into the room just vacated by them. A soldier servant was killed and one
+staff officer was wounded.
+
+An advanced ambulance station, with wounded men and medical officers in
+it, was struck fairly by another shell and badly holed, causing loss of
+life. No place was safe from these long bowls of the enemy, and though
+artillery practice of this sort may not be of much military importance,
+it yet produces an air of uncertainty and caution and jumpiness.
+
+The country surrounding Ypres and Ypres itself were very dismal. The old
+elm trees on the roads, and the silent, deserted streets were shrouded in
+a ghostly veil of melancholy.
+
+On a subsequent visit to the site of the old Cloth Hall one saw little
+more than ruins, for the famous building had in the interval been
+correctly ranged by the enemy guns and duly shattered. Later on more
+destruction took place, and visitors of the year 2015 will be shown some
+stones and broken pillars, all that was left of a famous hall which had
+stood for seven centuries and had been destroyed “one hundred years ago.”
+
+When peace comes again to Belgium, Ypres and its roads, its Hill 60 and
+its graves will be a place of holy pilgrimage to thousands of English,
+French, and Germans, for here fell and are buried their bravest dead.
+
+But the curious tripper and the Cook’s tourist had better keep away from
+Ypres. Let the friends of the dead and the quiet country folk have the
+land in their possession for a season.
+
+The railway station at Vlamertinge, near Ypres, frequently had a very
+fine armoured train in its sidings. The train was manned by Jack Tars
+with naval guns, and the engine and car looked very attractive in a
+wonderful coat of futurist colours—splashes of green and khaki and brown.
+This _H.M.S Chameleon_ was a very good cruiser and very nippy in moving
+across country. The sailors were very cheerful and seemed to like their
+ship amazingly.
+
+On the roads near our headquarters running from Renninghelst to
+Vlamertinge, and hence along the main highway to Ypres, a large number
+of Belgian soldiers were at work repairing the _pavé_ and widening the
+road surface by laying prepared trunks of trees laid closely together
+in the mud at the sides. They were fine sturdy men and full of life and
+cheerfulness, a different type altogether from the countryfolk we met in
+the farms. These were the men who had fought from Liége to the Yser, and
+were still on Belgian soil. They were very bitter about the Germans. They
+said that they asked for no quarter and would give none in the fighting.
+
+These Belgians on the roads were men who had been temporarily sent back
+to “recuperate,” and while at this work they enjoyed good food, warm
+quarters, and sleep. At eleven o’clock every morning a very fine motor
+kitchen would pass along the road. Each man had his canteen ready, the
+cook ladled out to him a good helping of mashed potatoes, boiled mutton,
+and thick gravy, and another cook handed him a big chunk of white bread.
+It was all done very expeditiously and in good order. After getting his
+share each man would sit on his rolled-up overcoat on the roadside and
+spoon the mutton and potatoes into his mouth with the bread. Knives and
+forks and spoons, after all, are really only luxuries.
+
+The roads were in a frightful state during these November weeks. The
+narrow _pavé_ was full of ruts, deep and dangerous, and skirted on either
+side by a slope of boggy quagmire churned up by the wheels of hundreds of
+heavy motor transports, and beyond this again on either side was a deep
+ditch.
+
+Any skidding motor would land in the ditch, and the righting of these
+embedded cars was at times a titanic task, productive of much loss of
+temper and bad language.
+
+The narrow _pavé_ would not permit of two vehicles crossing abreast, and
+when two met, neither wished to surrender the “crown of the causeway.”
+It was a point of honour not to budge and to wear down the other side by
+abusive epithets. Uncle Toby used to say that our army swore horribly
+in Flanders, but the swearing in Toby’s day was not a patch on the rich
+vocabulary and full-blooded oaths of our London taxi-drivers in Flanders
+in 1914.
+
+The London taxi-driver, always eloquent, reached his highest flights when
+addressing the quivering blancmange-like mud of a Belgian road.
+
+I have seen old French non-commissioned officers who probably did not
+know a single word of what was said on these occasions, but who envisaged
+the situation perfectly, stand by with approving and admiring faces while
+the driver was embracing in his comprehensive abuse all things living
+and dead, the heavens above, the earth beneath, and the waters under the
+earth.
+
+At Ouderdom we met Alphonse, soldier of France. Two medical officers were
+one morning sipping some red wine in an _estaminet_ in the village when
+in swaggered a very small French soldier.
+
+He had a boy’s face and figure and voice, but bore the assured manner of
+a man of the world. He was small even for a French boy. A carbine was
+swung across his back, and his belt carried a bayonet and cartridges. He
+wore the French blue overcoat with the ends tucked up in the approved
+style and with the buttons polished and bright. His little legs were
+encased in the familiar red trousers tucked into heavy boots several
+sizes too large for him, and his _képi_ was placed on his small, closely
+cropped head at a jaunty angle. Such was Alphonse, the complete soldier
+of France, full private in a famous Parisian rifle battalion.
+
+Alphonse swaggered into the café, ordered his glass of red wine with the
+_sang-froid_ and assurance of a veteran grenadier, and tossed it off as
+easily as a Falstaff.
+
+“How old are you, Alphonse?” “But fourteen years, mon officier.” “Have
+you killed many Germans?” “But yes, perhaps thirteen, perhaps fifteen;
+who can tell when one is fighting every day? But certainly I kill
+many Bosches.” “And with what did you kill them, Alphonse?” “Avec mon
+carabine”—this with a smack of his hand on the barrel of the gun. A smart
+soldierly salute, and our gallant killer of thirteen, perhaps fifteen,
+peaceful, amiable German soldiers strode out of the café.
+
+A corporal of Alphonse’s regiment told us that at the beginning of the
+war Alphonse was a young devil of a gamin in Paris. In his leisure
+moments he sold newspapers in the streets, and in his working hours he
+was up to some devilry.
+
+When this regiment marched out of Paris towards the frontier Alphonse
+marched alongside it, a bright-eyed, hopeful, cheerful youth clad in
+ragged clothes and down-at-heel boots. He was told to go home, but said
+that he had no home and was going instead to kill Germans. So in the good
+French way the regiment adopted Alphonse, gave him a uniform and a gun,
+and a new pair of boots, and took him on the strength.
+
+The little gamin turned out a very cunning soldier. He was a dead shot,
+and the corporal assured us that he had accounted for a good many of the
+enemy. At night Alphonse would crawl out of the trenches and scout well
+into the enemy lines. Frequently he brought back valuable information of
+preparations for a German surprise attack. He was so small and so cute
+that he escaped observation.
+
+In December Alphonse was presented to President Poincaré on one of
+his many visits to the French front, and the President promised him
+a commission and the Legion d’Honneur when he should reach the age
+of twenty-one years. I have grave fears for the gallant, snub-nosed,
+blue-eyed Alphonse, young in years but old in sin. He is already too
+fond of the rich red wine of France, and scouting at night inside the
+enemy lines is a duty full of peril. But Alphonse can teach a lesson
+in patriotism that many a flower-socked, straw-hatted knut on a London
+promenade would do well to learn.
+
+The Flemings are very devout Catholics, perhaps the most Catholic
+of all peoples to-day; so our ambulance was given the hall-mark of
+respectability because we had with it a Monsignor. The presence of a
+Catholic prelate with our ambulance, distinguished it in a notable degree
+from all other ambulances, and we tried to live up to our presumed
+reputation.
+
+Whenever Monsignor appeared on the roads near Ouderdom the Belgian
+soldiers would immediately stop work and, carrying their pickaxes and
+shovels, crowd round him for a talk and the latest news. Monsignor was
+a good linguist and a cheerful optimist, and never handed on any bad
+news to the soldiers. One morning he was asked for news, and appealed
+to me what to say. We told them that the Russians had another victory,
+and that the German dead could be counted by thousands. This was very
+palatable and thoroughly appreciated. We were not asked to give any
+details of the victory, which was perhaps fortunate.
+
+Monsignor would sometimes walk along this road with his hands behind
+his back and with two or three cigarettes sticking out prominently from
+between his fingers. The Belgian soldiers would then stalk after him,
+with broad grins on their faces, and pull away a cigarette. Monsignor
+never looked behind. That would not be playing the game at all, but his
+eyes would twinkle, and I have no doubt whatever that he hugely enjoyed
+the fun.
+
+There were days when Monsignor had a wardrobe consisting of but one
+shirt and one pair of trousers—the other articles of apparel had all
+been given away. Then he would begin again to collect mufflers and socks
+when supplies came in, and hand them out almost immediately to some poor
+devils who had nothing. If our chaplain appeared any day to be more
+cheerful than usual, one could make quite sure that he had just given
+away his boots or his shirt or his towel to some poor French, Belgian, or
+British Tommy. The only thing he kept a tight hold on was his toothbrush.
+
+One day Monsignor appeared with a cardboard box in his hand and told us
+that he was going to Renninghelst, a small town about two miles from
+our headquarters. Lieutenant X—— and myself asked leave to accompany
+him. We had to ask permission, for Monsignor was a senior chaplain and
+a lieutenant-colonel in rank, although he never said anything about
+that. We discovered it accidentally. Being a colonel interested him only
+in a vague impersonal sort of way. He told us once that a soldier is
+diffident and shy before a colonel, but is natural and communicative to
+his minister or priest who is not flagged and starred.
+
+[Illustration: MONSIGNOR DISTRIBUTING MEDALS TO BELGIAN SOLDIERS AT THE
+ROADSIDE.]
+
+On this lovely winter morning, when the whole countryside was white with
+frozen snow, we had a sharp bracing walk to the curious old town, then
+the headquarters of General B—— and his staff of a French Division.
+The village streets were packed full of French and Belgian soldiery,
+from Spahis to Alpine Chasseurs. We worked our way round the carts and
+through the jostling men to a little shop opposite the church. Monsignor
+was hailed joyfully by many of his old friends, who on this particular
+morning were not working on the roads.
+
+The mystery of the cardboard box was then unravelled, for after cutting
+the string and throwing away the cover we saw that it was full of
+small religious medals and scapularies. There was a big rush for the
+medals, and we were all squeezed up together by the pressing soldiers,
+hundreds of whom were holding their grimy paws out for the metal discs.
+As Monsignor was hard at work I took a hand also and helped in the
+distribution. At last all were gone. Hundreds more men had come up with
+hands out, but had to leave unsatisfied. I asked Monsignor if the medals
+lost any virtue by having been handed out by me, a Protestant. He assured
+me that it was all right, as the Belgians and French must have thought I
+was a good Catholic.
+
+Every Field Ambulance has two chaplains attached to it. Ours had a Church
+of England one and a Roman Catholic. Another ambulance would have perhaps
+a Wesleyan and a Catholic, or a Presbyterian and an Anglican. These
+chaplains were not designed for the spiritual needs of the ambulance
+men, but as each ambulance kept in touch with a brigade consisting of
+four battalions, the chaplain could also, by being with the ambulance
+headquarters, keep in touch with the brigade, and could also meet the
+wounded brought in from that brigade, administer the rites of the Church
+to those requiring it, and bury the dead. The chaplains did not restrict
+themselves to the men of their own faith, but helped and worked all
+they knew for all. After all, an ambulance station full of wounded men
+is not the place for religious exercises, and a wise chaplain helped in
+making the men as comfortable as possible, bringing round soup, taking
+off boots, distributing cigarettes and tobacco, writing letters and
+“gossiping”—the wounded like some one to talk to them and to talk to,
+and the chaplains could make a “cheery atmosphere” even in such a gloomy
+place as a barn full of recently wounded men. Most of the chaplains had a
+good sense of proportion. Some had not. One bleak, miserable day, I saw
+a well-meaning but mournful chaplain go up to a lorry full of wounded
+men packed close together on the straw, uncomfortable and shivering and
+miserable. He handed to each of them a small religious tract exhorting
+him to read it. The men took them with a polite “Thank you, sir,” but
+their faces displayed no enthusiasm. This was not the time for tracts.
+Shortly afterwards another chaplain, a man of the world, came up to
+the lorry with a “Cheer up, boys. You’ll soon be in warm comfortable
+quarters. Have you any smokes?” The men had none, and out came a dozen
+packets of Woodbine cigarettes from the chaplain’s pockets and two boxes
+of matches. The expression on the men’s faces altered at once. The
+atmosphere had altered, the sense of proportion had been restored.
+
+Men in hospital like to hear good news. I knew one chaplain who managed
+never to go into a room full of wounded and sick men without bringing
+some cheery report for everybody. He never actually fabricated news, but
+he had a wonderful gift of exaggeration. If we were in the same position,
+we had “held the line against incredible odds.” If the French had taken
+an enemy trench, “they had driven a wedge into the German position and
+produced consternation.” If Russian cavalry had made a reconnaissance
+in the Masurian Lakes, “they were sweeping like locusts all over East
+Prussia, and had set fire to the Kaiser’s favourite hunting-lodge.”
+
+The men never inquired about details, general statements were quite good
+enough.
+
+This was better than telling men that the “war would be a terribly long
+one; that we would have to make great sacrifices; but, please God, we
+would win in the end.” I have heard a chaplain talk like this to wounded
+men, and I knew that he “wasn’t delivering the right goods.”
+
+Renninghelst is a large village, or rather a very small town. It is
+situated close to the Franco-Belgian frontier, and at this period was
+of importance as an ambulance centre for wounded French and Belgians
+who were occupying the line of trenches in the front. The country all
+round is real Flanders land—flat, low-lying, damp, and uninviting. The
+renowned Mont de Cats can be seen from it, and round this _mont_ some
+hard fighting was taking place. The old village has a queer Dutch-looking
+church with a closely packed graveyard around it, planted thickly with
+stone and iron crosses to the memory of ancient departed burghers, whose
+Flemish-Dutch names are inscribed there to commemorate their ages and
+their virtues. Eighty, eighty-five, and ninety seemed to be the usual age
+of these old burghers for slipping off this mortal coil in this quiet
+sleepy old place in Southern Belgium. There are many new graves now round
+the Renninghelst countryside, and they are for men who have died young,
+suddenly, and in the springtime of their days. The interior of this old
+Flemish church is lofty, and has little in the way of adornment, for
+there are no millionaires in its congregation to give great stained-glass
+windows or carved pulpits.
+
+On my first visit to the church it was full of French soldiers, some
+sleeping and others lolling round on the straw that thickly covered the
+stone floor. A big group were crowded round a charcoal brazier warming
+themselves and watching the progress of a savoury stew. The French
+soldiers are wonderful cooks, and the stew this day was to be a good one,
+for the _pièce de résistance_ was a fine fat hare which had been caught
+that morning near the front. The two cooks were exercising great care
+to make the stew a success, and the air of the place was a cheerful,
+expectant one.
+
+Some days after this visit I was again at Renninghelst, and the church
+was now a temporary hospital. The floor was still covered with straw,
+but wounded men were lying close together on it. The charcoal brazier
+was still there and giving out a welcome heat on this cold wintry day.
+Ambulance waggons were in the street next the church full of wounded
+soldiers, and more were coming up the road.
+
+French army surgeons were busy amongst the red-breeched men in the
+church, and three of them were engaged round an improvised operating
+table near the altar, where a man deeply under chloroform was having his
+jaw wired with silver wire for a bad fracture from a piece of shell.
+
+The old white-haired, weary-looking priest of the parish was leaning over
+a dying man and bending his head low to catch the last faint whispers.
+Some women of the village were carrying round cups of hot broth to the
+men propped along the wall, and others were hurrying in with blankets and
+pillows.
+
+One soldier I observed to be very blanched and tossing restlessly on his
+straw. Restlessness is always an important sign in wounded men, and on
+going up to this poor devil and turning down his rough blanket the cause
+of the trouble was apparent. He was bleeding freely through a bandaged
+wound of the leg. The dressings were soaked with blood, and as the French
+surgeons were occupied I broke a professional rule and treated this
+patient without asking his doctor’s permission. The bleeding was soon
+controlled, and the threatened death from hæmorrhage averted.
+
+As I was completing the last turns of the bandage a voice murmured
+over my shoulder, “Vive l’entente cordiale.” The speaker was the chief
+surgeon, just released from his work on the operating table. He thanked
+me for helping, and said that he and his two assistants had been up
+all night, and had been very busy. Most of the men had been wounded by
+shrapnel. Shrapnel makes very bad wounds; it rips, tears, and lacerates
+the tissues, and repair is often impossible in face of the anatomical
+devastation. The French were having a great deal of trouble with their
+wounds, as we were also. All the wounds became septic. There is very
+little clean surgery in this war. The wounds rarely heal by first
+intention, and a fractured, splintered bone meant months of rest and
+painful dressings in hospital and a tardy convalescence.
+
+The fighting all along this front had been extraordinarily severe. The
+French hospitals and the French medical staff were taxed to the utmost.
+Every available fighting man was in the trenches or waiting as supports.
+The German hammer was making mighty swings on the Allied anvil, and
+nowhere were the blows so heavy and so long sustained as on that famous
+Ypres salient. It was bent and dented, but not broken. The character
+of the fighting can be grasped from two incidents. One famous infantry
+regiment left England at full strength. All of its original officers were
+killed, wounded, or missing. Of the second lot of officers, all were
+killed, wounded, or missing. Its third supply of officers were now grimly
+up against the same chain of events.
+
+One of the first British Divisions left England with 12,000 men and 400
+officers. When it was withdrawn from the front to rest and refit, it
+could only muster 2336 men and 44 officers!
+
+A famous French regiment with a long roll of battle honours went into
+action one frosty morning near Reims. It went forward a gleaming column
+of more than a thousand bayonets. Two days afterwards forty-nine men,
+led by an old bearded sergeant, marched back. These were all that were
+left. The sergeant had a bloody bandage across his forehead—he had lost
+an eye—but the French Brigadier-General embraced and kissed him on the
+cheek. The French officers standing near stood rigidly at the salute, and
+tears were running down their cheeks.
+
+The losses on our side were heavy indeed, but on the German side I
+am glad to know that they were colossal. The annihilation of German
+battalions and brigades is an argument that the Germans fully understand,
+and the only thing that will convince the German that the game is up is
+heavy and continuous loss of fighting men and difficulty in filling their
+ranks. This sounds very brutal, but we are living in a hard age.
+
+I was much struck by the splendid way the women of this small Belgian
+town rallied round to help the wounded. We found the same thing in
+France; no trouble was too great, and all was done so cheerfully and
+sympathetically. This is the “women’s day” in France. One cannot help
+admiring their courage and ability in France’s hour of trial. Husbands,
+sons, brothers, fathers—all are on the frontier, and the women carry on
+the business of France. They make the most stupendous sacrifices and
+exhibit a sublime patience. None are so joyful as the women when a French
+victory is announced, and none so pitiful as they when the wounded, the
+corollary to every victory, arrive at the towns and villages.
+
+This war, which the German has carried on with an animal ferocity and
+a degenerate lust unequalled in history, has demonstrated to the world
+the unfaltering nobility of character of the French woman, and that her
+fervent soul can rise serene and cool in the midst of the most appalling
+troubles.
+
+When our troops landed at Le Havre in August, it was noticed at once what
+a big part the women were taking in the business life of the place. There
+were women conductors on the trams, women in the tobacconist shops, women
+in the cafés as attendants, in the streets selling newspapers, and in all
+the big _magasins_.
+
+In Rouen, women conducted coal and timber yards, vegetable and
+produce businesses, bakeries, butcheries, fishmongeries, grocers’ and
+ironmongers’ stores. Women drove carts and waggons, acted as tally clerks
+on wharves, did everything, in fact—and did it all soberly, quietly, and
+well. They were always tidy, smart, and cheerful, and did not stop work
+at eleven o’clock for a glass of beer, or spend many quarters of hours
+filling and lighting pipes of tobacco.
+
+One woman I know—a rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed Norman dame—did the catering
+for a large officers’ mess in one of the camps at Rouen. At 5 a.m. she
+was at the mess tent with her pony-cart laden with wine, vegetables,
+preserves, and fruit. I have passed her shop at nine o’clock at night and
+have seen her then busily selling dried fish, pickles, and vinegar to her
+customers. She told me that she was too busy to sleep. This was in 1915,
+and she had been running the business with no other help than that of two
+small daughters since July 1914.
+
+Her husband was on the Argonne front, and she was keeping the flag flying
+till his return. Incidentally, she was making money. Catering for an
+officers’ mess is fairly lucrative.
+
+On the march from the Marne to the Aisne, and on the Aisne itself, women
+were to be seen doing ordinary farm work—building stacks, carting in the
+wheat, driving waggon-loads of hay and peas, milking the cows, making
+cider and butter, tilling the soil,—and tending the children into the
+bargain.
+
+The most amazing thing of all was to see women working in the fields
+behind our batteries only a mile away.
+
+At Venizel, on the Aisne bank, our Engineers were throwing a pontoon
+bridge across the river under a heavy shrapnel fire. Shells were bursting
+up and down the river’s bank and on the waters of the river, yet about a
+quarter of a mile behind three women were busily engaged cutting turnips
+for the cows.
+
+On the march from the Aisne to La Bassée, our Field Ambulance bivouacked
+at the Château of Longpont. The Comte and Comtesse de M—— were in
+residence at the château, and we were told by the Comtesse that General
+von Kluck, commanding the right wing of the invading army, had in August
+stopped for a day and a night at the château with his _état-major_.
+We asked how Von Kluck had behaved, and the Comtesse said that he had
+been _très agréable_. When he arrived, she interviewed him and begged
+him to respect the old château and its old abbey, the pictures and the
+tapestries. The General promised that he would do so, and that he would
+give orders that the villagers in the hamlet near the château gates were
+not to be molested. It was the apple season, and the apple trees of
+Longpont were laden with delicious fruit. Von Kluck “asked permission”
+of the Comtesse for his soldiers to take some apples off the trees. This
+the Comtesse graciously permitted, and the dusty German soldiery helped
+themselves to the apples and did not break a branch off a single tree.
+
+The Comtesse provided new eggs and butter and bread for the General’s
+breakfast, and he invited her to honour the meal with her presence.
+But the Comtesse sent a note that she would not break bread with her
+country’s enemy. This was one of the few châteaux and one of the few
+villages that the German Saligoth did not destroy or outrage before
+leaving.
+
+Some German Generals approved of outrages and atrocities, to wit,
+Rupprecht of Bavaria. Some disapproved, and Von Kluck, it is said, was
+one of these—but I “hae ma doots.”
+
+This leads to one of the blackest pictures of this war—a picture grim
+and loathsome. It is a subject which the women of France will discuss
+freely and openly and with a concentrated bitterness that one can readily
+understand. I have spoken to many educated French women on this subject,
+and have heard many curious and amazing tales and incidents. The subject
+is that of the women who have been ravished and outraged by the German
+soldiery.
+
+Many of these victims, married women and young girls, are to-day pregnant
+to German fathers, and the burning question with the women of France is
+how best to help their unfortunate sisters, and what is to be done for
+the offspring.
+
+In the French Chamber of Deputies the subject has been debated with
+equal freedom and openness. Leading French newspapers too, such as the
+_Figaro_, _Le Temps_, _Echo de Paris_, and others, have envisaged the
+position in powerful and appealing articles.
+
+One journal advocated that in the exceptional circumstances it was
+perfectly justifiable to carry out abortion and interrupt the period of
+gestation. Opinions were sought from leading French physicians and from
+the Academy of Medicine. These unhesitatingly condemned such a course,
+pointing out that the mission of the medical profession was to save
+life; and also that the induction of premature labour was at all times a
+dangerous and risky operation to the mother, and in certain circumstances
+would be fatal.
+
+The Catholic Church in France spoke strongly and certainly in the same
+direction, and condemned as utterly wrong and sinful any measure that had
+for its object the death of the unborn child.
+
+The women of France, however, do not share these latter views.
+
+Arrangements have now been completed for the reception of these pitiful
+expectant mothers into certain maternity homes, where they will be
+attended by skilled doctors and nurses at the State expense. After birth
+the child is to be brought up by the State at some place undeclared. The
+mother will not see the child at any time, and will know nothing of its
+future.
+
+The clergy all over Northern France are attending to this matter,
+and everything will be done as secretly as possible in the unusual
+circumstances.
+
+No wonder that the French woman speaks of the German soldier as a loathly
+thing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+WE LEAVE BELGIUM.
+
+
+At the end of November our ambulance was ordered to St. Jans Capelle. We
+were not sorry to leave our house, with its evil pond and manure heap,
+and the voice of Madame.
+
+Madame, by the way, was very amiable when we told her that we were to
+leave. She did not say that she was sorry, but she no longer screeched
+at our cooks or railed at our men for eating her straw. Just as our
+ambulance was about to move off, and Madame stood at the door with the
+first approach to a frosty smile that we had ever seen on her face, a
+French sergeant and ten men of a balloon section arrived. The sergeant
+had a lump of chalk in his hand and scrawled on the door, “Ballon. 3 sous
+Officiers. Hommes x.” He brusquely informed Madame that the quarters
+just vacated by us were to be at once taken by his balloon section.
+Madame raged and raved, but the sergeant was imperturbable, and suddenly
+quietened Madame by saying that if she objected very much he would begin
+to think that she was a German spy. The sergeant told us that as a matter
+of fact they were not satisfied about Madame’s husband’s patriotism. We
+knew that Madame and her sulky husband would now have a much worse time
+than when we occupied the house, for at least we tried to give little
+trouble, and lavishly paid for any vegetables, milk, or food that we got
+from the farmer. The French insist on the “articles of war,” and when
+they occupy a house they really do occupy it and make themselves very
+much at home.
+
+This mention of Madame’s husband being of doubtful honesty, reminded us
+of a curious incident that occurred early in our stay at this place.
+There was another farm close to the one we occupied, and this farm was
+owned by a man who, we were told, was a cousin of “Monsieur our farmer.”
+At this house a man was stopping who said that he was a refugee from
+Ypres. He told us that he was a baker from Boston, United States of
+America, and that he and his wife, who were Belgians, had been visiting
+their native country when war broke out. He said that his wife and two
+children were in Brussels when the Germans occupied the city, and that
+he himself was stopping with a friend in Ypres when the Germans first
+bombarded it; he then left Ypres and came to stop at this farmer’s house.
+This man used to walk every day along a road which passed behind some
+French batteries of 75 mm., but one day he did not come back. We asked
+his farmer friend what had become of him, and he said that he had left
+to go to America. We thought the circumstance odd at the time, and when
+our sergeant told us about Madame’s husband being under suspicion we
+asked him if he knew anything about this other man, the Boston baker. He
+said that he did, for he had seen the fellow arrested and sent back to
+be tried for spying. That perhaps explained why Madame did not like us,
+and why her vituperation and objections were suddenly silenced when the
+French balloon sergeant talked about German spies.
+
+After leaving the inhospitable cottage-headquarters, our ambulance had a
+long day’s trek over the Belgian frontier to St. Jans Capelle. This place
+was close to Bailleul. We put our men into billets near at hand and got
+quarters for ourselves in the Convent, where the sisters gave us a big
+dormitory full of clean white beds with blankets and sheets. This was
+indeed luxury after all our roughing times from the Marne till now. We
+were always perfectly willing to undergo inconvenience and hardships, but
+none of us ever missed an opportunity of availing himself of the luxuries
+and amenities of civilisation whenever they presented themselves. We had
+the fine front room of the Convent for a dining- and sitting-room, and,
+greatest boon of all, a fire to sit round. The cold was intense at this
+time, and the whole country was frozen hard in snow and ice. This was the
+period when frostbite was so terrible to our men in the trenches, and
+the Clearing Hospitals and Ambulance Stations were so busy treating the
+frozen men.
+
+It was found necessary to relieve frequently the freezing soldiers in
+the advanced trenches, and every three days they were allowed out from
+the terrible mud ditches, with death on the parapet and frostbite at the
+bottom.
+
+Braziers of burning charcoal were put into the trenches, but were
+found to be ineffective and harmful to the feet. The people of England
+did magnificent work in sending out gum boots, skin overcoats, and
+protectives of all sort, but in spite of all that was done the frostbite
+incapacitated many men. The recoveries were always slow, and could not
+be effected at the front, so all these limping men were sent back to
+England for rest and change. Many methods of treatment were tried for
+the frostbite, but time alone seemed to be the chief curative factor. In
+some cases the feet were swollen, and small bloody exudates could be seen
+under the big toe and the outer side of the foot where the boot pressed.
+Sometimes the skin was broken and ulcers formed at the site. In other
+cases toes became completely gangrenous or dead. The feet were rubbed
+and massaged with various oils and swathed in cotton wool, but wrapping
+in wool aggravated the suffering, and the men felt much more relief when
+the feet were left exposed. The worst time for the cold-feet men was
+from one o’clock to three in the morning. They would often go off to
+sleep peacefully, but would wake up at these hours suffering excruciating
+pain in their feet and calves and up the spine. Nothing would relieve
+this pain but hypodermic injections of morphia. One officer described
+his state to me, and said that he had been standing in a trench in mud
+over his boot-tops. At first his feet felt very cold, and he tried to
+warm them by stamping, but this method of exercise was too sloppy. Then
+sensation seemed to go and he felt quite comfortable, because although
+his feet felt very heavy they did not feel cold, only dead. On the fifth
+day he could hardly walk and had to be helped out of the trenches. He
+was unable to walk to the ambulance, a short way back, and the feet were
+found to be so swollen in hospital that the boots had to be cut off. Then
+the worst time of all came on, for as the circulation gradually returned
+he suffered diabolical pain in his feet and calves, and this pain was
+always worst in the early mornings. Eight weeks after having been lifted
+out of the trench he was still limping about with two sticks, and was
+making a normal but very slow recovery.
+
+[Illustration: GOING TOWARDS THE TRENCHES AT YPRES.]
+
+[Illustration: FRENCH SOLDIERS GOING TO THE TRENCHES.]
+
+This officer told me that one night the men in his trenches were ordered
+out to make a bayonet attack, but half of them were in such a condition
+that they could not crawl out of the trench. Fortunately the Germans were
+pushed back by those who could, otherwise the poor devils left behind
+would have been captured or killed.
+
+The Indians round the Bethune district suffered very severely from the
+frostbite, and these poor men deserved our greatest sympathy during this
+period, trying and terrible enough to men reared in a fairly rigorous
+climate like that of England or Scotland. The misery of the life to men
+who had never lived out of tropical India was enough to wear down any but
+the stoutest hearts. History will give due credit and praise to these
+Indians, that they rose superior to their environment and soon proved
+what sterling good soldiers they are. I visited at an Indian Clearing
+Hospital the first lot of casualties from the M—— Division. This Clearing
+Hospital took over the École Jules Ferry at Bethune, and occupied it
+for a few weeks after our Clearing Hospital had vacated it. The doctors
+belonged to the Indian Medical Service, and the native Indian doctors
+belonging to the subordinate medical service acted under the white
+doctors. Some temporary lieutenants of the Royal Army Medical Corps were
+also on the staff.
+
+The dusky warriors were arriving in scores, brought in on motor
+ambulances, and very woeful they looked, covered with mud and bloody
+bandages. They had not been long at the front, and their first experience
+of modern war was a very desperate ordeal.
+
+The night was dark and gloomy and a heavy rain was soaking the
+countryside. The mud-splashed cars dashed into the dripping courtyard,
+fitfully lit up by the sombre gleams of smoky lanterns tied to posts.
+Round about were the dark-faced bearers ready to help out the wounded.
+Those who could walk got out of the ambulances themselves and the
+stretcher cases were taken out by the bearers. The scene on this night
+impressed one with the far-reaching character of this war, for here were
+men from the central plains of India, the far-off frontiers and the
+slopes of the Himalayas, gathered together in a muddy, marshy region of
+France, and wounded in trying to hold a line of ditches against the most
+determined and scientific fighting men of Europe.
+
+    “Rulers alike and subject, splendid the roll-call rings,
+    Rajahs and Maharajahs, Kings and the sons of Kings,
+    From the land where the skies are molten
+      And the suns strike down and parch.
+    Out of the East they are marching,
+      Into the West they march.”
+
+One swarthy Sikh with a fine beard was asked what he thought of the war.
+
+“Sahib, it is a very good war. It is a man’s war. The old men, the women,
+and the children are in the villages. The warriors are out fighting.
+It is very good.” This optimist had got through with a slight wound of
+the right hand, and perhaps that accounted for his cheery outlook. Most
+of the wounded on that night looked as if they would have been better
+pleased to be with “the old men, the women, and the children in the
+villages.”
+
+There is no doubt that the Indians are pleased to be fighting alongside
+us in this “good war,” but they have a respect for the German because he
+is a fierce fighter, and perhaps also because of his ruthlessness, an
+attitude which appeals to the Oriental mind.
+
+The Gurkha is a funny little man and a swashbuckler. His small sturdy
+frame, his slanting, watchful eyes with the glint of the devil in them,
+his bandolier, rifle, and deadly kukri, with its broad razor-edged blade,
+make up a picture of force and fighting cunning.
+
+Plaster this man with thick mud, put a bloody bandage round his head,
+and place him in a dimly lit corner of a dripping court on a dark, rainy
+night, then indeed he looks a breathing symbol of murder and imminent
+destruction. When the Gurkha is out “on the job” at night, prowling far
+from his trenches and within the enemy lines, with no weapon but his
+broad, sharp knife and with a mind intent on slaying, he is a formidable
+and fearsome adversary.
+
+At first our Indian troops found it difficult to accustom themselves to
+the novel form of war in wet, cold trenches, a bad climate, and with
+every surrounding strange and inhospitable. The loss of their British
+officers and native non-commissioned officers was at first very heavy,
+and this discouraged the men, who look so much to their officers who
+know their language and understand them. But these brave fellows soon
+“found themselves,” and have since those dark October days proved again
+and again that when the call comes they can be relied upon to fight with
+as much determination as ever they have done in the past. An experienced
+British officer of a native regiment told me that what the Indians missed
+very much in France was opium. He said that the Indian had always been
+accustomed to his opium in India, that he did not take much, but really
+was the better for a little. He took it in small quantity as a soporific
+stimulant, just as our grandfathers took snuff, and he assured me that
+when the Indians had to meet the hellish conditions of modern war at the
+front last winter a little opium to each man would have meant a great
+deal. In this I cordially agree with him, for the medicinal and stimulant
+effects of small doses of opium are undoubted.
+
+The question of feeding our Indian soldiers was a difficult one, and
+required very careful handling. An old Sikh was wounded near Bethune and
+was taken to the British Clearing Hospital. He refused to take anything
+but biscuits and water. Fortunately we were able to remove the old
+ritualist to the native Clearing Hospital, otherwise we would have been
+at an _impasse_.
+
+Amongst both Hindoos and Mohammedans the caste prejudices and ritualistic
+ceremonies must be remembered and observed in the providing and killing
+of animals for consumption. The French also have native troops with
+them and have the same difficulties to overcome, and this helps us
+considerably in arranging a joint commissariat scheme. A Sikh soldier
+will not eat a sheep killed in the Mohammedan method by cutting its
+throat, and the Mohammedan soldier will not eat a sheep killed in the
+Sikh method by a slashing stroke on the back of the neck. So there
+you are. These things do not seem to be very important, but they are
+important all the same. Ask the Jew who refuses the unclean pork, and the
+good Churchman who refuses meat on Fridays.
+
+The following story, which I heard at the front, illustrates the
+accommodating nature of the Gurkha. When his regiments were embarking on
+the transports at an Indian port, the point arose whether he would eat
+frozen mutton. The British officers agreed to let the matter be solved by
+the men. So they called up the Subadar, who, after a little wrinkling of
+the eyebrow, said, “I think, Sahib, the regiment will be willing to eat
+the iced sheep provided one of them is always present to see the animal
+frozen to death.”
+
+In Rouen there is an encampment for goats for the Indians, and we were
+told that these goats were good mountain fellows from the Pyrenees. Four
+Indians, under the charge of an old, venerable, long-bearded native, used
+to drive them from their encampment to the Indian convalescent dépôt
+about two miles outside the city.
+
+The goats, in spite of the shouting and rushing about of the drivers,
+would not keep their ranks and dress by the right in marching through
+Normandy’s capital city. The delight of the French people, who always
+turned up in crowds to see the goats march past, passed all bounds when
+one would make a wild dash up a side street, hotly pursued by an irate
+turbaned Indian. Another source of great joy was to see the goats march
+slowly along the train line and hold up the train traffic.
+
+The Indians were always of absorbing interest to the French, and crowds
+of men and women would walk on a fine afternoon from the city to the
+Indian dépôt camp for convalescents to see our brown-faced fighting men.
+
+On one winter day in Rouen, just after a heavy fall of snow, a company of
+French soldiers under a non-commissioned officer was marching past the
+Indian encampment. The Indians lined up the fence alongside the road and
+bombarded the French with a rapid fire of snowballs. The French looked
+surprised, and, forgetting discipline but still keeping their ranks,
+poured a heavy fusillade of snowballs on the men of India. The incident
+is illustrative of the good feeling that exists between the French and
+their Indian allies.
+
+The Abbé Bouchon d’Homme of our hospital at Bethune told me with great
+glee one morning that the Mayor of the town had had a “poser” put to
+him by the Indians. One of these had just died from wounds, and he had
+evidently been a fire-worshipper. The dead man’s comrades asked the
+Mayor of Bethune to provide them with timber, as they wished to burn the
+deceased in the cemetery of the city. The Mayor was staggered at the
+request, and although he had, so the Abbé said, some curiosity to see the
+ceremony of fire carried out, he had to “turn down” the proposition. So
+the man was buried in the usual way.
+
+
+GOOD-BYE TO THE FRONT.
+
+The Army Headquarters, now that our line had been firmly established
+and locked firmly on our right with the French and on our left with the
+Belgians and French, decided to allow a short leave, at intervals, and
+in rotation, to officers and as many men as possible. The leave was
+specially designed for those who had been through the retreat, the Marne,
+and the Aisne. New troops were arriving at the front and gradually taking
+the place of the veterans temporarily retired to recuperate.
+
+The 5th Division had been amongst the hard knocks from the beginning and
+we got off early.
+
+I left the front by a motor bus, which conveyed a group of seven officers
+from Bailleul to Boulogne, and from thence we reached England by the
+ferry steamer.
+
+It felt uncanny to be away from the sound of the guns. Ever since August
+our lives had been punctuated with incessant gun-fire; we had roused
+each morning to the sound of heavy artillery, we had gone to sleep with
+cannonades for a lullaby, and during the long day had listened to the
+Devil’s Orchestra of lyddite, melinite, shrapnel, and rifle fire; and now
+away from it all we seemed to live in a curiously still and silent world.
+
+London was a very inviting place to return to. The hot bath, the
+good bed, the morning newspaper at breakfast had never been so much
+appreciated before. The rough knocking about and the strain had left
+its effects on the health of many of us, and these four days’ rest and
+recuperation, mental and physical, were a godsend.
+
+At the end of the holiday I was appointed Surgical Specialist to a Base
+Hospital in Rouen, and for a time my lines were cast in quieter waters.
+But the allurement of the front—the call of the wild with its excitements
+and uncertainties—lasted for some time longer. It is a curious fact,
+but true, that the men at the front would like to get to the Base, and
+when they get there they want to return to the front. “Those behind say
+forward, and those in front say back.”
+
+The memories of days spent at the front can never be quite forgotten.
+Time may blunt the clearness of outline of some of the incidents in a
+hazy mist, but there are others that will stand out clear and undimmed to
+the last.
+
+The surgeon sees the very seamy side of war. He comes close to the men
+stricken down in the field, helpless and bleeding and in pain. He stands
+by them in their dark hours in hospital and by their bedsides when they
+die.
+
+While the world is hearing the earthquake voice of Victory, he is perhaps
+kneeling on the straw easing the path to death of a dying man, one of the
+victors in the fight, or perhaps operating in a mean cottage, surrounded
+by wounded men waiting their turn on the table.
+
+The gallant charge, the brave defence, the storming of the enemy’s
+position are heralded in dispatches and in song and story, but translated
+into the notebook of the “Surgeon in Khaki” they represent many dead,
+many wounded, much crippling and mutilation, tears, distress, and broken
+hearts.
+
+I have seen brave men die the death in battle—changed in a second of time
+from forceful, vital, volcanic energy to still, inanimate rest. I have
+seen mortally wounded men pass uncomplainingly and composedly to the
+valley of the shadow, and I have seen faces become anxious and troubled
+at the thought of those dear and loving ones left behind and of the
+aching hearts and tears.
+
+I have written letters of farewell from dying men and officers to wives
+and sweethearts and children, and have felt the horror and misery of it
+all. It is a sad and mournful sight to see brave young men die.
+
+Yet, though the life of the “Surgeon in Khaki” is amidst this aftermath
+of battle, he has the infinite satisfaction of knowing that he can, and
+does, hold out a hand of help to the hurt and maimed soldier crawling out
+of the welter of blood and destruction, and that he is doing the work of
+the Compassionate and Pitying One.
+
+    “Affliction’s sons are brothers in distress,
+    A brother to relieve! How exquisite the Bliss.”
+
+This war has brought out many faults in our national life, but it has
+also brought out many shining virtues, and to the Faith and Hope of the
+people in the prowess of the soldiers, we must add the Charity shown by
+the people of this Empire to our sick and wounded. By subscriptions to
+ambulance funds, Red Cross funds, and hospitals, and by doing all that
+was humanly possible to help those hurt in battle, the people of to-day
+have made a name that posterity will honour and strive in vain to equal.
+They have also helped the Belgian and Serbian Red Cross movements and
+have shown that
+
+    “Kindness in another’s trouble,
+    Courage in your own,”
+
+which is always so admirable a trait.
+
+Our fighting men are magnificent, and the hardihood and patient endurance
+of our wounded are beyond all praise. I have seen our men in actual
+fight, I have watched the French gunners at work and seen the French
+infantry charge with the bayonet and throw back a German rush, and I
+feel a complete confidence of the ultimate final success of the Allied
+arms—for to such men is given the Victory.
+
+THE END.
+
+                               _Printed by_
+                          MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED
+                                _Edinburgh_
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77265 ***
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77265 ***</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[i]</span></p>
+
+<p class="center larger">A SURGEON IN KHAKI</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[ii]</span></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp48" id="illus01" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus01.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">The Author outside ambulance headquarters at Ouderdom.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[iii]</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage larger"><span class="smaller">A</span><br>
+SURGEON IN KHAKI</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br>
+ARTHUR ANDERSON MARTIN<br>
+<span class="smcap">M.D., Ch.B., F.R.C.S.Ed.</span><br>
+<span class="smaller">SENIOR SURGEON, PALMERSTON NORTH HOSPITAL, NEW ZEALAND<br>
+LATE FIELD AMBULANCE, 5TH DIVISION, 2ND ARMY<br>
+LATE SURGICAL SPECIALIST, NO. 6 GENERAL HOSPITAL, ROUEN, FRANCE<br>
+BRITISH EXPEDITIONARY FORCE<br>
+LATE CIVIL SURGEON, SOUTH AFRICAN FIELD FORCE, 1901</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">NEW YORK:<br>
+LONGMANS, GREEN &amp; CO.<br>
+LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD<br>
+1915</p>
+
+<p class="center smaller">[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[iv]</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>Printed in Great Britain</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE.</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>In the following pages an attempt is made to record,
+however imperfectly, some of the scenes, and the impressions
+formed, during those great days of 1914
+when our army was fighting so stubbornly and against
+such odds in France and Flanders.</p>
+
+<p>The notes in many instances are disconnected, but
+the things seen presented themselves in a disconnected
+way, and if they are not all beautifully dovetailed one
+into another, they are at least given forth somewhat in
+the way in which I viewed and received them myself.</p>
+
+<p>During the actual progress of this war, and when
+the war is happily over, much literature bearing on
+the great struggle will be produced, but I venture to
+think that of the personal narrative and the personal
+impression one cannot have too much.</p>
+
+<p>The narrative includes my experiences at Le Havre,
+Harfleur, and the battle of the Marne, the march to the
+Aisne, the wait on the Aisne, the move across France
+to the new lines behind La Bassée, and the final move
+to Flanders not far from Ypres.</p>
+
+<p class="right">ARTHUR A. MARTIN.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[vi]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<table>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr smaller">CHAP.</td>
+    <td></td>
+    <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">I.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">From Peace to War</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">II.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Le Havre and Harfleur</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">15</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">III.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">From Le Havre to the Bay of Biscay</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">25</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">IV.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">From the Bay of Biscay to East of Paris</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">35</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">V.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Advance to the Marne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">44</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">VI.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">What I saw of the Battle of the Marne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">53</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">VII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Night of the Marne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">59</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">VIII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">From the Marne to the Aisne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">65</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">IX.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Aisne and the Tragedy of the Sunken Road</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">84</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">X.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Missy on the Aisne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">90</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XI.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">On the Aisne at Mont de Soissons</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">103</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Field Ambulances and Military Hospitals</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">124</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XIII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Good-bye to the Aisne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">141</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XIV.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The La Bassée Road at Château Gorre</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">164</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XV.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Bethune</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">171</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XVI.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Some Medical Odds and Ends</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">202</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XVII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">We leave Bethune</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">221</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XVIII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Over the Belgian Frontier</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">231</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XIX.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">We leave Belgium</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">265</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<table>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Author outside Ambulance Headquarters
+    at Ouderdom</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus01"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td class="tdpg smaller">FACING PAGE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">A Road Obstruction near Harfleur</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus02">18</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Harfleur—Our Sleeping Quarters</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus03">18</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Transport <i>Cestrian</i> in the Bay
+    of Biscay</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus04">32</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The <i>Cestrian</i> at St. Nazaire</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus05">32</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Ambulances at the Marne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus06">54</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Halt at Serches</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus07">84</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Gun Teams at the Marne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus08">88</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Way to the Sunken Road</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus09">88</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Mont de Soissons, showing the Old
+    Templars’ Hall and Church</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus10">104</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Loading Wounded at Soissons. The
+    First Motor Ambulance on the Aisne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus11">122</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Lean-to at Soissons. Unloading
+    Wounded</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus12">122</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Château of Longpont</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus13">142</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Village of Longpont</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus14">142</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">On the Road to Compiègne</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus15">148</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Compiègne, showing the Broken Bridge</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus16">156</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Ambulance crossing the Oise on a
+    Pontoon Bridge</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus17">156</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Low Flat Ground near the Canal, with
+    a Trench</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus18">168</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Towards La Bassée</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus19">168</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Slightly Wounded and Sick at Bethune</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus20">176</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">École Jules Ferry at Bethune</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus21">176</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Trenches in Flanders</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus22">198</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Monsignor distributing Medals to Belgian
+    Soldiers at the Roadside</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus23">252</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Going towards the Trenches at Ypres</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus24">268</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">French Soldiers going to the Trenches</span></td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus25">268</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p>
+
+<h1>A SURGEON IN KHAKI.</h1>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="line" style="max-width: 7.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/line.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br>
+<span class="smaller">FROM PEACE TO WAR.<br>
+<span class="smcap">Early 1914.</span></span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>In April 1914 I left my practice in New Zealand for a
+short tour through the American, British, and Continental
+surgical clinics.</p>
+
+<p>After having visited all the important clinics in
+the United States—the famous Mayos of Rochester,
+Murphy’s at Chicago, Cushing’s at Boston, and others
+at Cleveland, Baltimore, and Philadelphia, I finally
+arrived at New York.</p>
+
+<p>When visiting the clinic at the German hospital at
+Philadelphia, I, with other visiting surgeons, principally
+Americans or German-Americans, was invited to tea
+and cake, or cake and beer, in the reception-room of
+the hospital.</p>
+
+<p>As the day was very hot we all drank iced German
+lager beer, and, when leaving the room, were presented
+with a gilt “wish-bones” holding ribbons of the German
+national colours.</p>
+
+<p>All of the American and German-American doctors
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span>wore the ribbons on their coats, but I put mine in my
+pocket as a curio. I did not wish to be thought to
+have German sympathies, although I had drunk their
+lager beer. In New Zealand the Germans have never
+been appreciated as they have been in England. Perhaps
+the air of the Pacific gives one a truer perspective
+of some things as they are.</p>
+
+<p>At New York I delayed sailing two days, in order to
+avoid a German boat, and reached England by the
+Holland-American boat <i>Rotterdam</i> in July. We had on
+board the <i>Rotterdam</i> a very large number of Germans,
+and as usual they were chiefly noticeable for their great
+prowess at meals, and for their noisy method of eating.
+They drank much “good German beer” and filled the
+rooms with German smoke and German gutturals.
+They are not attractive fellow-travellers.</p>
+
+<p>On arriving in England I proceeded to Aberdeen,
+where the annual meeting of the British Medical
+Association was being held, and to which I was a
+delegate.</p>
+
+<p>At Aberdeen we had a very large number of foreign
+representative surgeons and physicians and men from
+nearly every part of the world. As usual there were
+many Germans and a few Austrians.</p>
+
+<p>We were struck by a very curious incident towards
+the end of the meeting—last day of July. The president
+of the Association, Sir Alexander Ogston, gave a
+reception to all the delegates from the British kindred
+and affiliated associations, and to the foreign representatives.
+Although the German and Austrian delegates
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span>had been about in the morning, not one was present
+at the evening reception. They had all departed
+silently, and had said good-bye to no one.</p>
+
+<p>Germany and Austria had sent out their messages,
+and the medicals returned with all speed.</p>
+
+<p>We were then on the eve of war, but none of us at
+Aberdeen thought that we would be in it, or that we
+were then rushing swiftly to great events.</p>
+
+<p>The Austrian note to Serbia was being discussed.
+Germany’s action was doubtful. Russia plainly said
+that she would not stand by and tamely see Serbian
+Slavs humiliated by their powerful neighbours. In
+spite of the cloudiness of the political atmosphere and
+the slight oppressiveness none really expected lightning
+and thunder, or that any spirit would</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">In these confines with a monarch’s voice</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Cry Havoc! and let slip the dogs of war.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>On the 3rd August Sir Edward Grey, in the
+House of Commons, in a serious speech, reviewed the
+European situation. With convincing eloquence he
+showed how anxiously he had striven to maintain
+peace, and exactly defined England’s attitude in certain
+possible contingencies.</p>
+
+<p>The excitement all over the country was tremendous.
+The air was electrical with coming events, a spark would
+set the firmament ablaze. One could almost see the
+peoples of Russia, Germany, Austria, France, Belgium
+and Serbia gaze questioningly, anxiously, across the
+Channel at the Island Kingdom, and wondering in that
+tense moment, What would England do?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span></p>
+
+<p>Then flaring headlines in the press told that Liége,
+the great eastern fortress and arsenal of Belgium, had
+been furiously bombarded by the German artillery,
+and that Bethmann-Hollweg, the German Chancellor,
+had declared that a solemn treaty guaranteeing the
+neutrality of Belgium was of no more value than a scrap
+of paper.</p>
+
+<p>Then England declared war against Germany, and
+on the 4th of August we knew that England was to take
+her place in the titanic world-war and step into the all-engulfing
+struggle.</p>
+
+<p>So here it was at last. War with Germany! The
+restrained hostility of years was now no longer concealed,
+the long-pent-up passions were now let loose. Men
+seemed to breathe easier, and an air of relief pervaded
+the country.</p>
+
+<p>England was like a sick man after a consultation
+with the surgeons. He looks eagerly and anxiously
+at the surgeons, hoping that no operation may be
+necessary, but dreading and expecting that it may.
+Once told by them that an operation is necessary
+in order that he may live, his doubts and hesitation
+disappear, and he agrees to submit and to undergo the
+drastic measures and emerge a strong and whole man.
+There is a relief that he has decided and the mind
+becomes tranquil.</p>
+
+<p>The gravity of the issue was realised in England
+in those early August days. Those entitled to speak
+with authority pronounced that the war would be a big
+war—the greatest since the beginning of time—and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>that the men and women of our day and generation
+would have to pass through sorrow and tribulation
+and wade through dark and troubled waters before the
+end would be finally achieved.</p>
+
+<p>The justness of England’s quarrel was everywhere
+acknowledged, except in the land of the enemy, and the
+exposure of the tortuous and insidious German diplomacy
+stirred up the English sense of straight dealing and
+fairplay.</p>
+
+<p>On 6th August I motored down from the Highlands
+to Edinburgh, through the Pass of Killiecrankie and some
+of the loveliest scenery in Scotland.</p>
+
+<p>Everywhere were signs of mobilisation. Khaki
+soldiers and “mufti” recruits at every dépôt and around
+recruiting sergeants. The price of petrol had suddenly
+risen—why, nobody quite knew, but somebody was
+making money out of it, we were sure. At one town
+I paid ten shillings for a two-gallon tin.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening I reached Queensferry, but was not
+allowed to cross at that hour. As the ferry would not
+be going again till next morning I motored back to
+Dunfermline, and having stopped the night there, returned
+early in the morning to the Ferry. This time I
+got across with my car. The Firth of Forth presented
+a very busy scene that morning. Torpedo boats and
+naval craft of all sorts and sizes were dashing about,
+and in the distance were the large dark outlines of big
+ships of war.</p>
+
+<p>From Queensferry a rapid run brought me to Edinburgh,
+where the whole talk in hotel smoking-rooms, at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>table, and on the street, was of war. The kilted soldier
+was looked at with more interest as he walked the streets,
+and appeals were placarded on every prominent place
+for new recruits.</p>
+
+<p>The morning papers announced that the House of
+Commons had passed a war vote of one hundred million
+pounds, and that Kitchener had asked for five hundred
+thousand men to join the army.</p>
+
+<p>The Cabinet, like a good physician, was giving the
+nation its medicine in small doses during these early days.
+Doctors will tell you that small doses frequently repeated
+are so much better than a big dose taken at one wry
+mouthful, for a big heroic dose taken at one gulp often
+causes nausea. The hundred million pounds and the
+five hundred thousand men made the first teaspoonful
+of the national physic which was to help get rid of
+the fatty degeneration and change our sleeping, sluggish
+strength into the crouch and spring and hit of the prize
+fighter.</p>
+
+<p>Next day I took train for London in order to offer
+my medical service to the War Office. There was an
+urgent demand for surgeons to volunteer for active
+service, and at this particular juncture good surgeons
+who were free to go were not very plentiful. As I
+was on a tour of surgical clinics at this time I decided to
+do my bit for the country and the men in the field.
+Having nothing to do when I reached London that
+evening, I strolled into a music hall and heard “God
+Save the King,” “Rule, Britannia,” the “Marseillaise,”
+the Russian, Belgian, and Serbian national hymns—all
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>blared out to cheering and shouting crowds, who seemed
+to thoroughly enjoy “being at war.” It was reminiscent
+of the days of the Boer War in 1899:</p>
+
+<p class="center">“‘<span class="smcap">Alea jacta est</span>’—<span class="smcap">The die is cast</span>.”</p>
+
+<p>Early next day I visited the Medical Department of
+the War Office at Whitehall, and volunteered as a
+surgeon with the Expeditionary Army to France. Two
+days afterwards the War Office sent me a note requesting
+me to call at the office and be examined to see if I was
+physically fit. So I did. The physical examination was
+carried out with amazing celerity, and I was handed on
+as “fit.” The genial old army doctor appointed for
+this duty of examining his younger colleagues made
+his diagnosis on sight almost, and toyed easily with his
+stethoscope while he inquired about the state of the
+teeth and the digestion.</p>
+
+<p>I was then ushered into another office and was duly
+appointed a Temporary Lieutenant in the Royal Army
+Medical Corps.</p>
+
+<p>All the civilian surgeons accepted for service with the
+army—with the exception of a few consulting surgeons—were
+given the rank of Temporary Lieutenant.
+Seniority or special skill or previous war experience
+mattered nothing. I had already served as a Civil
+Surgeon, attached to the Royal Army Medical Corps
+during the South African War, and had a medal and four
+clasps from that campaign, and since that period had
+been surgeon to an important hospital in New Zealand,
+and was a retired Captain in the New Zealand Medical
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>Corps. That, however, did not entitle me to hold any
+higher rank than the young medical man who had completed
+his medical training only a week ago. Many
+able medical men all over the country had voluntarily
+left lucrative practices and important surgical and
+medical staff appointments in big London and provincial
+hospitals and were enrolled as Lieutenants in the Royal
+Army Medical Corps, on the same footing as junior
+medical men who had perhaps been their pupils but a
+few weeks before. We all ranked below the regular
+officers of the Royal Army Medical Corps. Volunteers
+for combatant commissions who had had previous
+experience were given rank accordingly. Some discrimination
+was made in the combatant arm, and rightly
+so. No discrimination was made in the medical service,
+and undoubtedly that was a mistake. The same lack
+of organised control was exhibited at every turn in the
+medical service. Men with imperfect professional skill
+and experience were given duties which should have been
+entrusted only to men fully possessed of those qualifications.
+This criticism is not merely a destructive one.
+Criticism is absolutely necessary at certain times, and
+there are some mistakes in policy which should be freely
+ventilated. This same policy was pursued by the Army
+Medical Department during the South African War,
+and was very openly discussed. This led to drastic
+changes in the organisation of the Royal Army Medical
+Corps, following on the Commission of Inquiry set up
+by Mr. Brodrick (now Lord Midleton). In this war,
+I regret to say, the old leaven has again appeared,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>and its re-appearance has aroused considerable comment
+and been a cause of inefficiency.</p>
+
+<p>After having been given my commission I was told
+to procure a uniform—Sam Browne belt, a revolver,
+blankets, and other campaigning kit—and to be prepared
+to move in forty-eight hours. With great difficulty I
+managed to get some sort of equipment together. The
+military tailors were working at high pressure, and when
+asked to make a coat or breeches in a certain time
+simply said, “It can’t be done.” By skilful diplomacy
+I got a coat in one place, a pair of riding breeches in
+another, puttees at another, leggings elsewhere, and so
+on. One could not then obtain khaki shirts or ties in
+London. I did not get a revolver, although this was
+on the list of things necessary. Neither did I purchase
+a sword. Why a medical officer should be asked to
+carry a sword and a revolver, and at the same time
+wear a Red Cross brassard on the left arm, I am at a loss
+to understand. I have asked many senior medical
+officers of what use a revolver and sword were to a doctor
+on active service, and the only reply I could get was that
+they were useful to defend the wounded. It would have
+been much more sensible for the War Office to tell each
+medical officer to get several pairs of rubber gloves for
+dressings and operations. I sometimes wondered if the
+War Office expected the surgeons to perform amputations
+with a sword. However, I did not get a revolver,
+and I did not get a sword. Later on, in France, I have
+seen mild-looking young surgeons arrive at the front
+armed to the teeth, with swords, revolvers and ammunition,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>clanking spurs, map cases, field-glasses and compasses
+strung all round them, and on their left arm the
+brassard with the Red Cross. We called them “Christmas
+trees.”</p>
+
+<p>At last my equipment was complete, and I
+received orders to go to Aldershot and report to the
+Assistant Director of Medical Services for duty.</p>
+
+<p>I was now a “Surgeon in Khaki” and part of that
+great military hammer—the British Expeditionary
+Force.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">When I arrived at Aldershot the town seemed
+deserted. The majority of the big barracks were empty.
+We were told that the British Army had just left for the
+Continent, and that the Aldershot command, under
+General Haig, had gone to a man. Aldershot was rapidly
+preparing to receive and train recruits, mobilise reinforcements,
+and keep up a steady flow of men to replace
+casualties. This was great news. When we left London
+we did not know that the British Expeditionary Army
+had gone.</p>
+
+<p>The A.D.M.S. (Assistant Director of Medical Services)
+put me on duty at the Cambridge Military Hospital at
+Aldershot, while awaiting orders for the front. Several
+surgeons awaiting orders were already here, and we all
+billeted at the Victoria Hotel. We were soon at work
+examining and passing recruits, inoculating troops
+against typhoid, and vaccinating all who had no conscientious
+objections. Some had “conscientious”
+objections to inoculation. Soldiers should not be
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>allowed liberty of conscience in these matters. They
+should be made immune against typhoid and smallpox
+at “the word of command” in spite of the screechings
+of fanatics suffering from distorted cerebration.</p>
+
+<p>Our duty at the recruiting dépôts was a very amusing
+one. We here came in contact with the first
+hopefuls of Kitchener’s new army. The first call to
+arms generally brings in a very motley crowd. The
+best of the recruits do not turn up during the first few
+days, as these have generally some domestic or business
+matters to arrange. It was the “First Footers” we got
+in these days at Aldershot.</p>
+
+<p>Another medical officer and myself took over one
+dépôt. We arrived at 8.30 a.m. Standing in a straggling
+two-deep line before the dépôt door were about
+three hundred men of the most variegated texture—some
+lean, some fat, some smart, some unkempt, but
+all looking very cheerful and hopeful. A smart R.A.M.C.
+sergeant is waiting at the door with a list of their names.
+It is our duty to examine physically this first batch of
+three hundred, to see if they are fit enough to train to
+fight Germans. Ten men are marched into the dépôt.
+Each doctor takes five at a time. At the word of
+command they strip and the doctor begins. He casts
+a professional eye rapidly over the nude recruit. A
+general look like this to a trained eye conveys a lot.
+The chest is examined, tongue, mouth, and teeth looked
+at. The usual sites for rupture are examined. About
+three questions are asked: “Any previous illness?”
+“Age?” “Previous occupation?” A mark is placed
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>against the name, the nude Briton is told to clothe
+himself, and the examination is over. It is done at
+express speed, and although the examination is not
+very thorough it is sufficient to enable an experienced
+man to detect most physical defects. If a man passed,
+he was put down for foreign service. Some had slight
+defects and were put down for home defence. Some
+had glaring defects and were turned down altogether.
+We had all sorts of derelicts turn up. One weary-looking
+veteran, unwashed and with straw sticking in his hair,
+indicative of a bed in a haystack the previous night,
+was blind in one eye and very lame. A draper’s
+assistant from a London shop had a twisted spine, an
+old soldier had syphilitic ulcers on the legs, some had
+bad hearts from excessive smoking, some bad kidneys
+from excessive drinking, some young men were really
+sexagenarians from hard living, and so on. They were
+old men before their time. The occupations of our
+recruits were as diverse as their shapes and constitutions—a
+runaway sailor, a Cockney coster, a draper’s assistant,
+a sea cook, a medical student, a broken-down parson,
+an obvious gaolbird, and a Sunday-school teacher.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Cook’s son, duke’s son, son of a belted earl,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Son of a Lambeth publican, they’re all the same to-day.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Before the doctor the son of a prize fighter makes
+a better showing than the son of a consumptive bishop.
+We had orders not to be too strict with our physical
+examination. We were not to turn a man down if he
+could be usefully employed in any State service during
+the war. For instance, many of the “weeds” amongst
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>the young men, the cigarette victims, the pasty-faced,
+flat-chested youths, those who had lived down dark
+alleys and in unhygienic surroundings all their lives,
+were all capable of being made into better men. Regular
+meals, plain food, good quarters, baths, cleanliness
+and hard work, marching, drilling and gymnastics,
+made these slouching, dull-eyed youths into active,
+smart men. They then held their heads up, breathed
+the free air, lost their sullenness, and became cheerful.
+Some of the recruits were not fit to be made into soldiers,
+and work could always be found for them. There are
+so many openings for the willing man at this time, be it
+cook’s assistant, mess servant, officer’s servant, orderly,
+or bootmaker’s help.</p>
+
+<p>It was always an interesting sight to see the sergeant
+and corporal drill these clumsy recruits, and show
+them how to walk, and where to place their feet. The
+army drill sergeant has a very caustic wit and a
+wonderful fund of cutting comments. He knows his
+audience well, and with a few crisp epithets can galvanise
+a sluggish recruit or a slouching company into something
+instinct with alertness.</p>
+
+<p>On 21st August, six surgeons, including myself,
+were ordered to hold ourselves in readiness for service
+abroad. We were told to overhaul our kits thoroughly,
+think out all necessary things, and not to have any
+excessive baggage. None of us had. The Wolseley
+valise held our little all.</p>
+
+<p>The last good-byes were said, and at 4 p.m. we
+entrained at Aldershot for our journey to “somewhere
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>in France.” We were all very glad to be off. We
+were all very curious to see and take part in the romance
+and adventures of the great battles that we knew
+would be sure to take place.</p>
+
+<p>Romance! Adventure! Very soon we were up
+against cold facts, and there was no romance or pomp
+and circumstance then.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br>
+<span class="smaller">LE HAVRE AND HARFLEUR.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>At 12 p.m. we detrained at Southampton, hungry and
+thirsty. Owing to lack of foresight we had had nothing
+to eat since breakfast. The night was a beautiful one,
+and a voyage across channel sounded very inviting.
+We marched our 350 R.A.M.C. orderlies on to our transport,
+the <i>Braemar Castle</i>, and the officers tried to find a
+place to sleep. We managed to get some corners in
+the smoking-room, and curled up as best we could in the
+cramped places. The ship was packed full of troops,
+and we learned that we were the first reinforcements for
+the Expeditionary Army. We had two generals on
+board and the headquarter staff of a new division. Our
+destination was to be Le Havre. At 2 a.m. we steamed
+out, followed by several other transports crowded with
+soldiers. Torpedo-boat destroyers kept watchful eyes
+on us across channel, and twice a huge searchlight
+played all round us from far out at sea. The navy
+was watching on the deep waters. The soldiers on
+board slept on the deck, on hatches, anywhere, and
+they were all up and cheerfully carolling at dawn. When
+a soldier wakes his first thought is for food, and at
+5 a.m. they were all discussing bully beef and biscuits.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>The ship’s cook had prepared cauldrons of tea,—and
+Tommy loves tea. One wag after breakfast stood on
+a hatch reciting, “Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture
+moveth us in sundry places,” to a congregation of grimy-faced
+soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>At 12.30 midday we sighted Le Havre, and in two
+hours were tied alongside the wharf. The disembarkation
+rapidly followed, and at 4 p.m. we were on the
+march through Le Havre to our encampment. As we
+steamed into Le Havre there was a scene of the wildest
+enthusiasm, and the whole harbour front was a mass
+of cheering men and women and children. “Vive
+l’Angleterre!” “Vive Tommy!” “Vive l’entente
+cordiale!” Flags and handkerchiefs were waved from
+every window, and the picture of enthusiastic welcome
+was most inspiring. Our men seemed to thoroughly
+enjoy it, and cheered and yelled their throaty greetings
+as loudly and as heartily as the French. One would
+call in a bull voice, “Are we downhearted?” and the
+reply, “No!” from thousands of throats, echoed and
+reverberated over the sea front.</p>
+
+<p>Then would come a piping voice, “Do we like
+beer?” followed by a unanimous roar of “Yes.” The
+French welcome was a spontaneous and enthusiastic
+one, and Le Havre, gay with bunting and twined flags,
+shouted itself hoarse that day. I visited Le Havre some
+months later and saw a crowded British transport
+arrive. There was no cheering, no flags, no excitement.
+At the wharf was a big hospital ship, and wounded
+soldiers were being carried aboard by stretcher-bearers.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>The French had, since August, passed through some
+days of disappointment and despair, and the German
+was still in France. The frenzied ecstasy of that welcome
+of August, the gifts of flowers, of fruit, of wine were
+no longer there, but deep down there was still the same
+welcome, unspoken but warm and sincere.</p>
+
+<p>A dusty march of eight miles on a hot, blistering
+road brought us to our camp at Harfleur. We were
+indeed on historic ground. Close by were the remains
+of the old Castle of Harfleur that Henry V. and his men-at-arms
+stormed in the long ago.</p>
+
+<p>On this same field Henry is said to have addressed
+his soldiers:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“And you good yeomen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Whose limbs were made in England, show us here</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The mettle of your pasture; let us swear</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That you are worth your breeding.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">It was on this field and at that time that old Bardolph
+said:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Would I were in an alehouse in London.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>So here again, in the twentieth century, were some
+thousands of good yeomen whose limbs were made in
+England, and a pot of ale would have been relished by
+all, for the day had been a thirsty one.</p>
+
+<p>Our arrival at camp was not expected. The commandant
+seemed very surprised to see us, but told us
+to make ourselves at home. We had no kits, no
+blankets, no tents, no food—all had been left on the
+wharf—and no hot water was procurable. We made
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>a meal off our “iron rations,” which consist of a small
+waterproof cover holding a tin of bully beef, biscuits,
+pepper and salt and tea. Pipes were lit and we then
+lay down as we were, under the lee of a haystack, and
+slept till bugle-call, when we awoke, cold and damp
+with dew. The nights were very cold at this time
+and the days terribly hot.</p>
+
+<p>The camp at Harfleur had about five or six thousand
+men, composed of representatives of all arms of the
+service—Highlanders, Guardsmen, Engineers, and details
+from dozens of other regiments. We were reinforcements.
+Rumours were coming through at this time
+that all was not well with our army, and we were disquieted
+to hear that it was being steadily pushed back
+and fighting desperately. The retirement of our army
+occasioned anxiety at Le Havre, our principal base at
+that time, and the reinforcements at Harfleur could
+not be joined up till the position became clearer.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus02" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus02.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">A road obstruction near Harfleur.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp78" id="illus03" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus03.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Harfleur—our sleeping quarters.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>At Harfleur we got little authentic news. We
+lived on rumours, and some of these were of the most
+extraordinary kind. There was one rumour that came
+through, and the Tommies fully believed it. It was
+said that the Germans cut off the right hand of every
+captured stretcher-bearer, and killed every prisoner of
+the combatant rank. Our men were quite determined
+to die fighting, and the stretcher-bearers asked for
+guns. The day after our arrival in camp we were given
+tents, and these were pitched in the morning. Twelve
+men were put to each tent, but blankets were few and
+we could only give four blankets to each tent. Next
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>day the tents were struck and packed away for some
+unknown reason, and that night we all had to sleep
+in the open. The officers’ kits arrived on the second
+day, and on the fourth day we were told to take from
+them only what was absolutely necessary. It was said
+that our kits were to be either packed away or burned.
+It was said also that the whole camp equipment, tents,
+blankets, etc., were to be burned. Later in the day
+this order was countermanded and we again took
+possession of our kits. We guessed from all these
+various orders that the position at the front was uncertain,
+and, as history has since shown, such was the
+case. On our fourth day at Harfleur a flying man
+arrived in his aeroplane from England, and we all
+crowded round to know what the latest news was.
+He had none to give, but told us that he had flown
+over a part of the German army. I think that he
+brought some important information, for that afternoon
+the whole camp was set to work digging trenches
+right across the front of the camp. We had more
+rumours of “tremendous British losses,” “breakdown
+of French mobilisation,” “stubborn fighting,” but
+nothing authentic reached us.</p>
+
+<p>However, work proceeded feverishly in the camp.
+Harfleur was on the main road leading from the north
+to Le Havre. It was said that the Germans were advancing,
+and this was true. A raiding force of 20,000
+men—one German division—of cavalry, gunners, and
+infantry—the latter on fast motor-lorries—was certainly
+moving on Le Havre, and the intention was to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>destroy the British base dépôt, burn our huge stores,
+and capture and sink all the shipping and blow up the
+railways. Our camp was to delay this raid till the
+French could move up some divisions. Accordingly,
+lines of trenches were dug across the turnip fields
+and meadows. The farmhouses were surrounded by
+trenches and put into a state of defence. The doctors
+and stretcher-bearers were ordered to occupy an
+orchard about 500 yards in rear of the trenches. There
+was an extraordinary resemblance between one old
+farmhouse adjoining the camp and the famous
+farmhouse of Hougoumont at Waterloo. There was
+an old chapel in the centre of the farm, near
+to the big two-storied stone dwelling. Behind the
+chapel were the wine cellars and stables. To the
+right of the house was a long orchard surrounded
+by a stone wall about 5 feet high. The farmhouse
+and farmyard were surrounded by a high stone wall.
+Also there was a big gateway as at Hougoumont. Inside
+and lining the stone walls were tall pine trees.
+Our men soon began to make some alterations in the
+quaint old Norman place. The lower branches of the
+trees were lopped off. Trenches were made inside
+the stone wall and stones were pulled out of the base
+for loopholes for rifles, so that our men could lie in the
+ditch and fire through the bottom of the wall. The
+same thing was done in the orchard, and men of the Rifle
+Brigade were told off to line its walls when the time
+came. This farm, if exposed to artillery, of course
+would have been a death-trap, but against infantry
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>or cavalry would have been a very hornet’s nest
+for the enemy to attack. The gateways were pulled
+down, barricades were placed across the gaps, and
+machine-guns controlled the angles and were able
+to sweep the open spaces, should a rush be made, with
+a hail of lead.</p>
+
+<p>All was ready for a second Hougoumont, and the
+picture was completed by the old farmer’s wife, who
+was ordered to leave the farm, but who firmly refused
+to budge. Had the Germans come, like her ancient
+prototype on that June day at Waterloo, she would
+most likely have taken shelter at the foot of the cross
+in the chapel.</p>
+
+<p>But the Germans did not come, and history is
+deprived of a moving and stirring story.</p>
+
+<p>It was tragic but ludicrous to see the blank despair
+and consternation on the face of the old farmer when
+we started to lop down some of his trees, dig trenches
+round his farm and through his turnip fields. Knowing
+very little about the war, and only vaguely interested
+in the invasion of France, he was deeply concerned
+about his turnips and his trees. Everything, however,
+was put right for him before we left.</p>
+
+<p>When all our preparations for defence were complete
+two German aeroplanes passed over us going towards Le
+Havre. Here they were fired on, and they then returned
+to have a further look at Harfleur and circled slowly
+over our camp. As we had no aircraft guns they
+descended fairly low, and I think must have seen
+everything there was to see. We had field-glasses out
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>and could easily discern the black cross painted on the
+wings of the Taube.</p>
+
+<p>So there we were in our trenches commanding the
+roads to Le Havre, with a Hougoumont and an orchard,
+and stone walls lined with riflemen. History, so far, has
+not recorded how we “held the gate” to Le Havre without
+firing a shot and without losing a man, but I am
+sure that it was our preparations, seen by the enemy
+aeroplanes, that deterred the Germans from coming on.
+It was a raiding German force, and a raiding force has
+no time to tackle defences and strongly held positions.
+A brigade of French cavalry moved across our front and
+rode as a big cavalry screen towards the advancing
+raiders. Fifteen thousand French troops followed them;
+and when twelve miles from our camp the Germans
+turned back, the menace was over, and we breathed
+again.</p>
+
+<p>A fast scouting motor-car containing three Prussian
+officers ran headlong into a barricade cleverly placed
+across a road about ten miles from Harfleur. A ditch,
+broad but shallow, was made across the road near a curve,
+and artfully concealed with gravel laid on thin planking
+across the top. The car rushed right on to this and was
+upset. Some concealed French cavalry then rode up
+and captured the party.</p>
+
+<p>The French officer who made the capture told me that
+the German officers were livid with anger when he and
+his men rode up with drawn sabres. One of the German
+officers had a revolver in his hand, which he flung
+violently at the head of the chauffeur.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span></p>
+
+<p>This defence of the road at Harfleur was one of
+those minor incidents of the war which has been forgotten
+or ignored in the swirl of the big happenings at that
+time. The situation of Le Havre and Harfleur was then
+one of grave peril and gave rise to considerable anxiety.
+One need not have been on the spot to grasp the
+dangerous possibilities. Our defence of Harfleur ended
+tamely. We were told one day that Lord Kitchener
+was at Le Havre and had ordered the evacuation of the
+big base by the British. That night we were ordered
+by our commandant to strike the camp, move into
+Le Havre, and embark on transports for a destination
+unknown.</p>
+
+<p>The day before we left Le Havre some British
+stragglers from our retreating army turned up in camp.
+About twenty-five dirty, grimy, footsore men, with
+unkempt hair and stubbly beards, wandered in and told
+us that they had lost their regiments and their way after
+Mons. Since then they had been gipsying through France
+towards the coast. Sometimes they got a lift on a
+farmer’s cart, but mostly they walked. They said that
+the French people had treated them very well, and they
+certainly did not look hungry. As usual, they told most
+harrowing tales. One man said that the whole army
+had been captured by an army of twenty million
+Germans!</p>
+
+<p>On the morning of our last day at Harfleur we were
+all thrilled by the visit of a German spy. I have said
+previously that when the trenches were being dug
+at Harfleur the medical detachment was sent to an
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>orchard in the rear. A road led past the gate of this
+orchard. At the gateway we had two of our men on
+sentry-go. Farther down the road was a French sentry
+with a fixed bayonet. At 3 a.m. a powerful two-seater
+automobile dashed up this road and pulled up at
+the gateway. The driver had on a heavy khaki motor
+overcoat and a khaki cap. His face was muffled in a
+khaki scarf. An officer, also in khaki, stepped out and
+began questioning our men at the gate. He asked
+how many men were in the camp; were there any big
+guns, and where were they? Had any ammunition
+been brought up that day? Our sentries were heavy
+north-countrymen, recently enlisted, and did not
+tumble to the fact that it was an unusual thing for a
+British officer to put such questions to a private on
+sentry-go. The officer then got on his car and went
+back in the direction of Le Havre. We were all agreed
+that the strange officer was a spy dressed up to look
+like a British officer. The French told us that Le Havre
+was full of spies at this time, and that they had made
+many arrests of suspects.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br>
+<span class="smaller">FROM LE HAVRE TO THE BAY OF BISCAY.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>We knew that serious events must have happened
+when K. of K. had personally visited Le Havre and had
+ordered its evacuation. It was Napoleon who said that
+it was a disastrous thing to attempt to change an
+army’s base during the actual progress of a war. But
+in this war old maxims and trite sayings go by the
+board. Anyone having the most elementary knowledge
+of war, and what an army in the field signifies, will
+agree that even if changing a base may not lead to disaster,
+it is nevertheless a very formidable and a very
+risky move. Le Havre at this time was a huge base from
+which our army in the field was receiving its supplies.
+Transports conveying all the necessaries for a fighting
+army unloaded their cargoes on its wharves. From
+there the supplies were sent by train to the advanced
+base in the centre of France, and from there onward to
+the various refilling stations. The destruction of Le
+Havre, or its temporary loss as a base, would have
+been a calamity. The army would have ceased to
+receive food, waggons, ammunition and equipment,
+guns, horses, forage, reinforcements, hospital supplies,
+etc. An army without ammunition and food is no longer
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>of any fighting value. Think also of the quantities of
+material necessary to supply an army of 70,000 men,
+and this will give some idea of the immense war dépôt
+Le Havre was at this time. Circumstances must have
+indeed been serious to have necessitated a change of
+base. It meant also that the railway arrangements
+so carefully thought out, and which had so far been
+in operation, would have to be suddenly changed.
+Supply trains would have to be sent to the front from
+some other base, and returning empty supply trains
+and hospital trains would have to be diverted from
+Le Havre to the place chosen as the future base. The
+task was a gigantic one, and was rendered more so
+because it had to be completed in a hurry.</p>
+
+<p>We reached Le Havre from Harfleur in the late afternoon.
+A large convoy of Belgian ambulances full of
+wounded was moving through the streets towards the
+wharves, and a French Infantry Division passed us in
+full panoply of war going east. Six large transports
+with steam up were lying at the wharves. The wharves
+were a scene of unparalleled activity, and when one got
+right down amidst this activity and looked around, one
+could realise that things were very chaotic. Every one
+was shouting and cursing; contradictory orders were
+given; some stores which had just been loaded in one
+of the holds of one transport were being again unloaded.
+Through careless handling a huge crate of iron bedsteads
+for a military hospital fell into the sea between the
+ship and the wharf. But as the stores were Government
+property—therefore nobody’s property—no one seemed
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>to mind very much. The stage between the ship and the
+big sheds was packed with all sorts of goods in inextricable
+confusion. Here were bales of hospital blankets
+dumped on kegs of butter, there boxes of biscuits lying
+packed in a corner, with a forgotten hose-pipe playing
+water on them. Inside the sheds were machine-guns,
+heavy field pieces, ammunition, some aeroplanes, crowds
+of ambulance waggons, London buses, heavy transport
+waggons, kitchens, beds, tents for a general hospital,
+stacks of rifles, bales of straw, mountainous bags of oats,
+flour, beef, potatoes, crates of bully beef, telephones and
+telegraphs, water carts, field kitchens, unending rolls of
+barbed wire, shovels, picks, and so on. All had been
+brought into the sheds and left there in a higgledy-piggledy
+fashion. An Army Service man was trying in
+despair to get some forage on board; a colonel of the
+Medical Staff was trying to get his Base Hospital on
+board. There was apparently no <i>single</i> brain in control,
+and the loading of the ships went on in the most extraordinary
+way. Things nearest the ship’s side were put
+in first. Part of a Base Hospital was put in with part
+of a Battery, followed by bundles of compressed straw
+fodder and boxes of soap.</p>
+
+<p>The transport <i>Turcoman</i> was full of troops. There
+seemed to be thousands of them on board, and the decks
+were packed with men. On walking up the gangway I
+was met by the officer commanding the troops, and he
+told me that I could not be allowed on board with any
+men as the ship was already overcrowded. I told him
+that my orders were to embark on the <i>Turcoman</i>, but
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>the reply, “Very sorry indeed, but it can’t be done,”
+settled the matter.</p>
+
+<p>So I descended, and with difficulty picked my way
+along another wharf and found another transport, the
+<i>Cestrian</i>, also a centre of the same scene of bustle and
+activity as the <i>Turcoman</i>. The <i>Cestrian</i> was crowded
+with soldiers, and was being frantically loaded up with
+all sorts of goods, from aeroplanes to bandages.</p>
+
+<p>I got my men on board and told them to make themselves
+as comfortable as they could on deck, and after
+some searching round at last found a corner of the
+smoking-room which would serve me for a bed for the
+night. Here my servant dumped down my valise.</p>
+
+<p>I was unable to find out the destination of the <i>Turcoman</i>;
+nobody seemed to know, but there were rumours
+that it was to be “somewhere in the Bay of Biscay.”
+Nobody knew where the <i>Cestrian</i> was going. As my
+orders were to travel by the <i>Turcoman</i>, and as I was
+really on the <i>Cestrian</i>, I was anxious to find out if the
+destination of the two boats was to be the same port.
+But nobody could tell me, so I lit my pipe of tobacco,
+leaned over the ship’s side, and never troubled any more
+about my orders. I really did not know whether the
+<i>Cestrian</i> was going to England or another part of France,
+or the Black Sea for that matter.</p>
+
+<p>The scene on the <i>Cestrian</i> was a strange one. It was
+now quite dark and the loading of the cargo was carried
+out under electric flares. There were on board 2600
+soldiers and 600 horses. These unfortunate horses
+had been put on board twenty-four hours before the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>troops embarked, instead of the other way about, and
+the smell from the hot, stifling horse-boxes was overpowering.
+Why these poor beasts were not embarked
+last of all, was a mystery. Imagine 600 horses cooped
+up in narrow boxes during a long, hot, stifling summer
+day, when they could easily have been kept at the horse
+dépôt close by till the last minute!</p>
+
+<p>One horse died before we started, and was slung out
+by ropes on to the wharf.</p>
+
+<p>This horse episode was the occasion of much scathing
+comment amongst senior officers and old cavalry and
+artillery non-coms.</p>
+
+<p>It is a pity that some of the higher command—those
+responsible—could not have heard the remarks of these
+knowing old non-commissioned officers.</p>
+
+<p>At last the ship’s holds were full. Gangways were
+up and we dropped slowly down the locks to the Seine
+mouth, and so out into the Channel. We were met by a
+fierce, gusty head wind and welcomed it for the horses’
+sakes. Large wind ventilators were arranged to allow
+the fresh air to reach the horse-boxes.</p>
+
+<p>Our men slept on the decks, and there were so many
+of them that to step one’s way over them would have
+been almost impossible.</p>
+
+<p>The dining-rooms, cabins, and smoking-rooms were
+full of sleeping or dozing officers. I managed to commandeer
+an old sofa cushion, and lay on that in the
+corner of the smoking-room and went to sleep, and
+dreamt of thousands of horses looking reproachfully
+at me out of boxes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span></p>
+
+<p>At break of day we were all up at bugle-call and soon
+washed. The ship’s cook was a man of some eminence
+in his profession, for he had provided porridge and milk,
+ham and eggs, bread and butter and tea for our breakfast,
+and, filled with amazement, we sat round to enjoy it.
+Generally of meals on a transport there are none. A
+big cruiser was seen after breakfast to be bearing rapidly
+down on us, and the usual “optimist” present, after
+carefully observing her through a telescope, pronounced
+her nationality as German, and that it was now a
+watery grave in the Bay of Biscay for 2600 men and 600
+horses. As she came nearer we showed our flag, and she
+displayed the French ensign. We gave her our number
+and dipped our bit of bunting, and the great ironclad
+sheered off. It was a relief to know that she was about,
+and looking after our transports.</p>
+
+<p>On the way out from Le Havre we passed the United
+States battleship <i>Tennessee</i>, and our men seeing some of
+her sailors standing in a group gazing at us, gave a cheer
+and the usual “Are we downhearted? No!” greeting.
+The American sailors gave a real good hearty cheer, and
+yells of “good luck”; but an officer then ran up to them
+and said something, and they became suddenly silent,
+and only waved their hands. They had probably been
+told by their officer that they were “neutrals,” and
+belonged to the battleship of a nation friendly to all the
+belligerents. But we knew that they were with us
+“inside,” and anyhow the Americans have not been
+neutral in their hearts. They are all “for us” and “for
+the Allies.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p>
+
+<p>Life on board our transport was uneventful. We
+smoked and slept and ate. There was no room to walk
+about. I never saw such a crowded ship.</p>
+
+<p>We had on board the complete <i>personnel</i> of a Base
+Hospital, and the medical officer commanding told me
+that he had orders to pitch his hospital at once at
+Nantes in order to take in wounded, as there was a big
+demand for more beds. In spite of his utmost endeavours
+he could not get his hospital equipment on the <i>Cestrian</i>.</p>
+
+<p>All the instruments, dressings, and X-ray apparatus
+had been left behind for another boat, and he thought
+that he might not be able to get them for another week,
+or perhaps longer.</p>
+
+<p>This was but another example of the lack of control
+at Le Havre during the change of base; a hospital was
+badly wanted at Nantes; all the <i>personnel</i> and half the
+equipment were sent away, and the other half left on the
+wharves. We learned later that the holds of our boat
+the <i>Cestrian</i> were not full when she left Le Havre, but
+that she had been ordered to leave on account of the
+horses being in such a bad state from the hot, stifling
+atmosphere in their quarters below decks.</p>
+
+<p>It was necessary to proceed to sea to get a current
+of cold air down the ventilating shafts to the horses’
+cribs. This senseless blundering over the horses led
+to the death of several of the poor beasts, and besides
+crippled a Base Hospital at a time when it was urgently
+needed. Over and over again during this war one has
+met with instances of a want of reasoned judgment on
+the part of senior controlling officers. In certain
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>emergencies they have been unable to “orientate”
+themselves—to use an Americanism—or to “envisage”
+a situation.</p>
+
+<p>Blunders, slips, miscalculations, carelessness, in time
+of war mean the loss of valuable lives. We want alert,
+clear-brained, thinking men in all responsible posts.
+If a senior officer shows himself lacking in these essentials—then
+he must go. Many of the responsible French
+army officials at the beginning of the campaign proved
+themselves lacking in initiative and judgment. Joffre
+sent these officers to “Limoges.” We should send our
+incapables to “Stellenbosch.” Both places are indicative
+of a quiet retirement, where they can live without
+thinking, where there are quiet clubs, cigars and cocktails,
+and comfortable chairs for an afternoon nap.
+The good ship <i>Cestrian</i> was a very fine steamer, but a
+very dirty one at this epoch. She badly wanted a clean-up.
+The lavatories and water-closets were indescribably
+filthy and foul, and acrid ammoniacal fumes permeated
+the ship. No attempt was made at ordinary cleanliness,
+and no disinfectants were employed. Words could
+hardly describe the appallingly filthy state of the urinals
+and closets. It would have been so very simple to have
+made things cleaner. A sanitary squad could have
+been arranged in a few minutes to keep these places
+tidy and to maintain some control. But what was
+every one’s business was nobody’s business, and nothing
+was done during the three days and nights we were at
+sea.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus04" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus04.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Transport “Cestrian” in the Bay of Biscay.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus05" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus05.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">The “Cestrian” at St. Nazaire.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>As our ship approached the mouth of the Loire we
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>saw three large transports ahead of us and four more
+were following up behind. We slowly steamed through
+the narrow lock entrance to St. Nazaire and, after the
+usual delay in getting alongside, finally tied up to the
+wharf. The day was stiflingly hot and dusty, and we
+were glad to leave our ship and get on shore. The
+horses were at once unloaded, and very bad the poor
+beasts looked. It was pleasant, however, to see them,
+once they were on land, looking round and neighing
+with evident pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>The troops were marched out to a large field or a dry
+salt marsh some few miles out of town. A rest camp
+or camp for army details was being rapidly arranged,
+and areas were being marked out for the various units,—gunners,
+engineers, and infantry regiments, and there
+was considerable bustle. No tents had yet arrived
+and the camp was quite exposed. Fortunately, the
+weather was good and sleeping out was no hardship.
+I reported my arrival to the camp commandant, and he
+said that he did not know where I had to go or what I
+had to do. He told me to “wait round and see what
+turned up.” At this period one’s arrival was always
+unexpected. We always got a smile of welcome and
+were always told to “wait round.” There was never
+any demonstrative hurry. John Bull on the job doesn’t
+make much fuss. I think that he does not make enough.
+As there was nothing to do apparently, and as nobody
+seemed to want me, I strolled back to the city of St.
+Nazaire and had afternoon tea in a pleasant café.</p>
+
+<p>As I was leaving the café I met the A.D.M.S.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>(Assistant Director of Medical Services). He asked
+me what duty I was on. I told him that I had just
+arrived and had reported my arrival, and was really
+wondering myself why I was at St. Nazaire. The
+A.D.M.S. said, “We are wanting medical officers urgently
+at the front. Would you please come with me.” On
+our way to the office he explained that “the medical
+service had received some losses—casualties and missing,
+that there were a lot of wounded and a lack of hospital
+necessaries.” He asked me if I had any “bandages,
+wool, or lint with me.” I had none, of course, and the
+A.D.M.S. said that he had none to spare for the front.
+I thought of the Base Hospital on the <i>Cestrian</i> landed
+with only half its equipment, and of what a wonderful
+nation we are, and what a magnificent organiser John
+Bull is when he is really “on the job.”</p>
+
+<p>I received written orders from the A.D.M.S. to
+proceed by train at 4 a.m. next day to Le Mans, and
+report arrival and await orders there. Le Mans was the
+“advanced base” of the British army. I learned here
+also that our gallant army was retreating towards Paris,
+and fighting stubbornly against overwhelming numbers
+of Germans flushed with victory, and I was very glad
+to get orders to join up with my countrymen and get a
+chance of “doing my bit” also.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br>
+<span class="smaller">FROM THE BAY OF BISCAY TO EAST OF PARIS.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>After having received these definite orders I got my
+kit again conveyed to the <i>Cestrian</i> transport and slept
+that night in my old corner of the smoking-room. At
+2.45 a.m. the surgeons detailed to join the army were
+up. A hasty cup of coffee and an apology for a wash—and
+we were down the ship-side, and on the way to the
+<i>gare</i>. The railway station at St. Nazaire at this time
+looked quite picturesque in the early morning. Its
+platforms were covered with straw, and rows of sleeping
+French soldiers lay comfortably around, while a stolid
+Grenadier sentry stood propped against the wall.
+There is no hurry at a French military station. The
+train was timed to start at 4 a.m., but that did not
+matter. At 5 a.m. it was quite ready. “C’est la
+guerre.”</p>
+
+<p>There were five of us travelling together—all medical
+officers—two Scotchmen, one Irishman, one Englishman,
+and one New Zealander. A very gruff Railway
+Transport officer gave me a military pass for the party.
+This gave us permission, we noticed, to travel to Paris
+viâ Le Mans. The pass was signed by the French
+authorities, but we were never asked to show it again.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>The khaki uniform proclaimed we were British, the
+Sam Browne belt and stars showed we were officers,
+and the red-cross brassards on our left arms indicated
+our particular line of business. As the train moved off
+we wished our Railway Transport officer—an Englishman—a
+good morning, but this seemed to offend him,
+for he glared at us. Our Irish surgeon remarked that
+all Railway Transport officers were queer fish and very
+unpopular. Perhaps their particular specialty makes
+them so, but I have never heard an R.T.O. referred to
+in any other but denunciatory terms. A sanguinary
+adjective is always prefixed to the mystic trinity R.T.O.
+It is said that they lead unhappy lives and generally
+die of long, lingering illnesses. We soon settled down
+comfortably in our luxurious first-class carriage and
+tried to get to know each other. No very difficult task
+amongst doctors, who are generally most sociable
+animals. One of us was a specialist in fevers and had
+passed most of his days in typhoid and scarlet fever
+wards. One was a neurologist, with pronounced views
+on the power of suggestion in treating cases of incipient
+insanity. One was a pure physician, who said that the
+surgeons were not men of science but merely craftsmen,
+and were too fond of using the knife.</p>
+
+<p>The surgeons, as became their calling, treated all
+criticism with good-humoured complaisance. We
+talked a lot about the duties of the doctor in this war,
+and we were all very curious to know the rôle played
+by a doctor when he was attached to a cavalry
+regiment, to a battery, or to a field ambulance. None
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>of us knew very much about it, but we all were agreed
+that we had somehow to get alongside Mr. Thomas
+Atkins when he was wounded in battle, get him to a safe
+place, and give him of our best. Curiously enough,
+although we were all scattered later on to various units
+of different divisions, I met all my fellow-travellers
+again one time or another in the firing line. One of the
+Scotchmen I met just as he came out from under heavy
+shrapnel fire, and I asked him how he liked it. His
+reply is not printable. One I met in a field ambulance
+later with sleeves rolled up and busy dressing the
+wounds of a crowd of men just brought in from the
+firing line. One I met in a town in northern France
+looking cold and wet and miserable, and asked him also
+how he liked the war. He gave an expressive shrug.
+I have not met anyone yet who liked the war, except
+artillery officers.</p>
+
+<p>Our train travelled slowly from St. Nazaire along
+the Loire to the capital city of Nantes. This charming
+city is situated on the banks of the delightful river.
+We had a lot of khaki and French soldiers on board the
+train, and as usual they fraternised well together.
+Tommy Atkins gets on amazingly well with the French
+piou-piou, and the French grenadier chaffs Tommy a
+lot and enjoys his company. When they get together
+they exchange caps for a time. This is a sign of unalterable
+friendship.</p>
+
+<p>To see a French Cuirassier wearing a khaki cap and
+a Highlander in kilts wearing a Cuirassier’s casque
+with its flowing horsetails always excited the merriment
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>and loud “vives” of the French people. The kilts
+of our Highlanders are also greatly admired by the
+French. They were consumed with curiosity to know
+if the Scotchmen wore any trousers under them. Khaki
+was a great novelty along the Loire valley at this time,
+and our appearance roused tremendous enthusiasm
+and applause. At Nantes the good people brought us
+baskets of apples, and little French flags which we duly
+stuck on our coats or caps and wore till the train
+steamed out of the station.</p>
+
+<p>Crowds of people rushed down to the railway platform
+to see us and cheer us on our way. Tommy’s
+“Are we downhearted?” and its stentorian “No!” had
+a very optimistic sound, and the French liked it.</p>
+
+<p>At Angers the train stopped two hours, and the
+officers strolled round the town. The men were not
+allowed off the platform. Angers, the ancient capital
+of the old Counts of Anjou, is a delightfully sleepy city.
+A princess of Anjou was in the long ago a Queen of
+England, and a fine statue to her memory stands in the
+centre of the town. It was dressed with an intertwined
+Union Jack and the Tricolor when we were
+there.</p>
+
+<p>The old castle of Angers, with its deep moat and
+castellated towers, has withstood the ravages of
+centuries and is one of the finest examples of mediæval
+military masonry. Our walk through this city excited
+considerable comment and notice. It was Sunday,
+and a big congregation just leaving church stopped
+to stare at us and possibly to wonder why khaki was in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>Angers. As we passed a café crowded with loungers
+sipping wine and coffee at the little tables on the street,
+all stood up to look at us. We felt very embarrassed
+and did not much like the novel experience, so sat
+round a small table ourselves, and while drinking our
+wine turned round to look at the people also. A French
+colonel caught our eye, and one of our party held a glass
+towards him, saying, “Vive la France!” The effect
+was theatrical: all jumped up, and lifting their glasses
+shouted, “Vive l’Angleterre!” “Vive l’entente cordiale!”
+Several French officers and citizens with ladies pulled
+up their chairs to our table, and we all drank wine very
+sociably together. One of our party of surgeons had
+been educated as a youth in Belgium and was an
+excellent French linguist. The people were all very
+anxious to hear the latest news. We had none to give
+except that large British reinforcements were coming
+over, and that England was now fairly on the job. In
+these early days of the war, when everything in France
+was “electrical,” such sentiments were always cheerfully
+received. We drank a good many toasts before we
+left, and had our photographs taken three times. Just
+before the train started crowds of gentlemen and ladies,
+old and young, shook hands with us in the usual French
+way, with the left hand as often as the right. One
+beautiful and sparkling little French lady embarrassed
+one of us by a sudden warm embrace and a sisterly
+kiss on the cheek. The surprise of the khaki man was
+only momentary, and the lady, in return, was well and
+truly kissed on the lips. We were all sorry to leave
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>Angers, the city was charming, the wine was excellent
+and the people were most entertaining.</p>
+
+<p>After Angers we had a long and dreary night ride to
+Le Mans. One curious incident occurred during the
+night. Our train was pulled into a siding at a small
+station and held there for three hours. At the end of
+this time a train, made up of forty-one huge locomotive
+engines, thundered by at sixty miles an hour going south.
+We were told that these were Belgian engines sent south
+to escape capture by the Germans.</p>
+
+<p>In the cold shiver of a dark morning we bundled
+out at Le Mans, and at once made a dash for the railway
+buffet and got hot coffee and rolls. I then found my
+way with some difficulty in the darkness to the quarters
+of the A.D.M.S., to whom I had to report our arrival.
+He was in bed when I arrived, but got up and took my
+report. As usual he was surprised to know we were
+coming, and our visit was naturally an unexpected
+pleasure. He told us that we should have gone right
+on to Paris, as surgeons were badly wanted with the
+army which was retreating on to Paris. We were
+always being told that doctors were urgently required
+and were always delayed. We had definite orders to
+get out at Le Mans and report. The orders were in
+writing. No one was more anxious than we were to
+push rapidly on, and we chafed at the continual delays.
+The A.D.M.S. could not tell us when we would be able
+to get away from Le Mans as the train service was
+erratic. We were advised to “hang about the railway
+station” till “some train” started for the front. As
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>this was highly unsatisfactory, I tried to find out how
+matters stood myself.</p>
+
+<p>The stationmaster did not know when a train would
+start for Paris, as the line was blocked farther on by the
+military mobilisation. I found out, however, that a
+supply train conveying provisions and supplies for our
+men was to leave from Maroc some time during the day.
+Maroc was a small siding five miles from Le Mans.
+Here trains were made up for the various Army Corps.
+Maroc is a desert of sand and a truly desolate spot.
+We got our kits and a box of medical supplies—obtained
+with great difficulty at Le Mans—conveyed to this
+miniature Morocco, and we camped on the sand under
+the doubtful shade of the only two trees the place
+possessed, till 4 o’clock that afternoon. The only
+excitement was seeing a huge locomotive run off the
+track and block shunting operations for two hours.
+At last our huge supply train was ready. We all got
+into an empty guard’s van and disposed our valises in the
+various corners. Two officers of the Royal Flying Corps
+joined us here and found accommodation in a waggon
+loaded with bags of wheat. We all clubbed together
+for mess, and laid in a stock of sardines, bread, butter,
+and a dozen bottles of red wine and cider. We learned
+from our flying friends that the army was retiring every
+day, and was supposed to be making for Paris.</p>
+
+<p>We got some definite news for the first time of our
+big engagements at Mons, Landrecies, and Le Cateau,
+and how our army was furiously attacked and compelled
+to fall back, and that although the retirement at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>first was precipitate it soon became ordered and steady.
+We were also told that there were over 15,000 casualties,
+and that the medical arrangements had quite broken
+down. However, we had a sublime faith in our own
+countrymen, and knew that they would come out all
+right, somehow, somewhere.</p>
+
+<p>At daybreak our train reached Tours, and at Blois
+we had a welcome wash and a decent cup of coffee. Our
+quarters in the guard’s van had been most cramped
+and uncomfortable, and we were all anxious to leave the
+old tortoise of a train. At midday we passed through
+Orleans, and here French officers told us that the
+Germans were advancing on Paris, and in spite of
+prodigious losses were hacking their way through by
+weight of numbers and numberless batteries of artillery.
+We were told that the British army was to form part
+of the garrison of Paris, that Paris was fully prepared
+for a long siege, and that President Poincaré and the
+Government were at Bordeaux. All these rumours
+gave rise to keen discussions, and they certainly helped
+to while the time away in our dreary old van.</p>
+
+<p>During the night we passed through Paris, and at
+break of day pulled up at the railway siding of
+Coulommiers.</p>
+
+<p>The railway siding was full of ambulance trains,
+British and French. All the trains were filled with
+recently wounded men, and we got our first information
+that we were close to the actual scene of fighting. One
+French medical officer had rigged up a small dressing
+station on the station platform. An upturned box
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>held his dressings, instruments, and antiseptics, and
+he had about twenty-five wounded Frenchmen all
+round him patiently waiting their turn. Most of them
+were slight cases, for the serious ones had already been
+put aboard the hospital trains.</p>
+
+<p>Coulommiers at this time was the refilling point for
+the Army Service Corps, and our supply train was
+emptied here.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE ADVANCE TO THE MARNE.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Coulommiers at this time looked a little bit <i>dégagé</i>.
+It had been occupied by the Germans some days
+previously, and now the British had it. The French
+inhabitants were in Paris. The narrow old streets
+looked very cheerful and inviting when I passed through,
+for our Army Service men had several fires merrily
+blazing at the side of the <i>pavé</i>, and the smell of frying
+bacon and roasting coffee beans was inviting and
+appetising. Signs of the German occupation were
+everywhere apparent. Round the ashes of their fires
+in the side streets and square were the charred remains
+of old and valuable furniture—a carved leg of an old
+chair, a piece of the frame of a big mirror, a bit of a
+door, and so on. I think the German soldier enjoyed
+the novel sensation of cooking his food over burning
+cabinets and tables and chairs made in the times
+of the Louis’ of France. Our men were extremely
+careful to avoid damage to French property and made
+their fires of chopped wood logs. Tommy has good
+feelings and is always a gentleman, and he genuinely
+pitied the French in their despoiled towns.</p>
+
+<p>My orders were to report to the Principal Medical
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>Officer of the 5th Division of the 2nd Army. I could
+not find out where the 5th Division headquarters was,
+but ascertained that the 2nd Army headquarters was at
+the small hamlet of Doui, three miles away. My next
+problem was how to get there with my kit. Luckily,
+I found a motor-car driver about to start for the headquarters
+and he offered me a lift. This driver was one
+of the many gentlemen of leisure who had volunteered
+for service at the beginning of the war. He took out
+his own car at first and it broke down during the retreat,
+so he abandoned it by the roadside and got another
+car, the driver of which had been killed. We set off
+from Coulommiers at a rattling pace and passed part
+of the 3rd Division on the way. The headquarters
+of General Smith-Dorrien, the Commander of the 2nd
+Army, was a little cluster of houses by the roadside,
+and when we arrived the whole staff were standing
+by the road, while the grooms stood near holding their
+horses. Smith-Dorrien with another staff officer was
+poring over a map and indicating some spot on it
+with his finger. The Principal Medical Officer, Colonel
+Porter of the Army Medical Staff, now Surgeon-General
+Porter, was just coming out of a cottage, and I walked
+up, saluted, and reported my arrival. The Colonel
+gave me a cheery greeting, asked if I had breakfasted,
+and noticing the South African War ribbon on my
+tunic, said that as I had seen service before I would
+soon be quite at home. He asked me where I came
+from, and when told that it was New Zealand, inquired
+if the trout-fishing was still good. New Zealand seems
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>to be principally known in England for its excellent
+trout streams.</p>
+
+<p>I was then told to report to the officer commanding
+a section of the 15th Field Ambulance, which was lying
+about 500 yards farther down the road. I reported
+to Major O—— of the Royal Army Medical Corps,
+who told me that he was waiting to evacuate some
+wounded to Coulommiers before moving up to rejoin
+the headquarters of the ambulance which was advancing
+with the 15th Infantry Brigade. There were
+sixteen wounded British in a small farmhouse beside
+the road. They were lying on straw on the floor and
+the wounds of all of them had been dressed. When
+I entered they were drinking milk supplied by the old
+farmer and his wife. This old farmhouse had been
+occupied by the Germans two days previously, and the
+old farmer brought me through the house to show
+what the Huns had done. His two wooden bedsteads
+had been smashed. All his wife’s clothes had been
+taken out of a chest of drawers and torn up, and the
+chest had been battered badly with an axe. The
+windows were broken and two legs of the kitchen table
+had been chopped off. An old family clock lay battered
+in a corner, and an ancient sporting gun was broken
+in two. The farmer showed me one of his wife’s old
+bonnets which had been thrown into the fire by these
+lovely Germans and partially burned. Fancy burning
+an old woman’s bonnet! All the fowls and chickens
+had been killed. Two German soldiers got into the
+fowlyard and struck all the birds down with their
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>bayonets. A fine Normandy dog lay dead at the
+garden gate, shot by a German non-commissioned
+officer because the poor beast barked at him.</p>
+
+<p>The old-fashioned furniture and adornments of the
+house had been destroyed. All of the pictures were
+broken except two—one of these was a framed picture
+of Pope Leo <span class="allsmcap">XIII.</span>, and the other was one representing
+the Crucifixion. We guessed that the German
+troops must have been Bavarians, who are mostly
+Catholic.</p>
+
+<p>I have described this wrecked home as it was typical
+of hundreds of others that I have seen in France.
+It all seemed so stupid, so senseless, so paltry, and
+mean. Conceive the frightfulness of burning an old
+lady’s bonnet and smashing an old clock that had
+been in the family’s possession for three generations,
+and had ticked the minutes to the farmer’s folk and
+whose face had been looked at by those long since dead.
+The old farmer was in tears and very miserable. He
+said that the German soldiers were very drunk and had
+brought a lot of bottles of champagne with them,
+round which they spent a very hilarious night. One
+of the men had a very fine voice and sang a German
+drinking song, whilst the others hiccuped the chorus.
+There were certainly a lot of empty champagne bottles
+lying about, and I don’t think that the old farmer’s
+beverage ever soared above <i>vin rouge</i>, so the bottles
+must have been German loot.</p>
+
+<p>About eleven o’clock, while we were still waiting
+for returning empty supply waggons to take off our
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>wounded, we heard that some German prisoners were
+being marched in. This caused some excitement, and,
+speaking for myself, I was consumed with curiosity
+to see some specimens of this great German army
+and observe what manner of men they were. Under a
+strong guard of cavalry three hundred prisoners with
+about ten officers were marched into a field close to
+our farmhouse. It was laughable to see our old farmer.
+He rushed frantically up the road, his eyes blazing
+with excitement and joy, and stood gazing at his
+country’s enemies with an expression of malicious joy
+and delight.</p>
+
+<p>I was struck with the appearance of these prisoners.
+They were very tired, absolutely done in, and marched
+along the road with a most bedraggled and weary step.
+Were these the men who had goose-stepped through
+Belgium’s stately capital and had pushed the united
+armies of France and England before them in one of the
+most rapid marches in history? They were utterly
+broken down with fatigue, and their famished expression
+and wolfish eyes betokened the hardships they had
+recently undergone. When they were halted in the
+field they simply rolled on to the ground from sheer
+exhaustion. On looking closer, however, one could
+see that they were fine soldiers, athletic, well-built,
+lean, wiry fellows, with shaven heads and prominent
+features, slim-waisted and broad-shouldered, clothed
+in smart, well-fitting, bluish-grey uniforms, well-shod
+with good serviceable boots, each with a light water-bottle
+clipped to his belt and a haversack over the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>shoulder; certainly no fault could be found with them
+as specimens of muscular and active soldiery.</p>
+
+<p>The officers, disdaining to show fatigue, sat by
+themselves in a group apart and smoked pipes and
+cigarettes. The famished men were supplied with
+British bully beef and biscuits, and buckets of water
+were brought to them for drink. They at once threw
+off their exhaustion and simply rushed the food. We
+realised that they had been marched to a stop, and that
+the commissariat of that particular Army Corps must have
+broken down. The augury was a good one. Amongst
+them were some slightly wounded men—principally
+hand, scalp, and face wounds. These we dressed, and
+the men seemed very grateful to the medical officers
+for what was done. One of my men, with a slight
+shrapnel wound of the wrist, after I had dressed and
+bandaged it, seized my hand and kissed it. That is
+the German way, perhaps, but un-British, and I do not
+love things German or un-British to-day. One of the
+men had a slight wound, but a very painful one owing
+to a small shell splinter sticking on to a nerve. Lieut.
+M’C—— administered a few whiffs of chloroform while
+I extracted the fragment of iron. Poor M’C——
+remarked to me that this was the first anæsthetic
+that he had administered during the war, although
+he had been through the whole retreat from Mons,
+and that it was for a German. I say poor M’C——;
+this splendid young doctor was killed later on in
+Flanders while gallantly attending wounded in the
+trenches under a hellish shrapnel fire. This group of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>prisoners belonged to the Jägers of the Prussian Guard,
+one of the best infantry units in the German Army. We
+were all very pleased that they had been bagged, and
+I don’t think that they worried much about it themselves.
+The officers, however, seemed very sullen—that
+also pleased us.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after the arrival of the Guard Jägers some
+empty motor supply waggons, returning from the
+front, were stopped. We packed plenty of straw on
+them and put our wounded British and Germans comfortably
+on top, and sent them all off to the hospital
+train at Coulommiers. Then our commanding officer,
+Major O——, gave the order to our ambulance drivers
+to harness up the horses and prepare to trek. We
+knew that our army was making a stand at last, and that
+the long retreat from Belgium was over.</p>
+
+<p>All the morning heavy firing was heard on our front
+towards the river Marne, and we were not sure what
+was happening. We knew that our cavalry was at
+work somewhere, for the Guard Jägers had been
+bagged by our horsemen, but more than that we did
+not know. However, we were soon on the road, and
+following Napoleon’s maxim to his Generals—always to
+march on the firing. The roads were terribly dusty,
+the day was hot and sultry, and a blazing sun beat
+mercilessly down upon us. We all cursed our caps,
+and certainly the present khaki cap supplied to our
+officers and men deserves a curse. It gives no protection
+to the head or neck in summer, and in rainy
+weather it is soon soaked.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span></p>
+
+<p>Marching on foot behind lumbering ambulance
+waggons on a dusty road, and under a hot sun, is no
+picnic. Eyes get full of dust, throat gets parched, feet
+get hot, and the khaki uniform wraps round one like a
+sticky blanket. So for many miles we marched, and
+all the time the sound of the guns became more and
+more distinct and intense. We passed St. Ouen and
+by St. Cyr, and at 4.30 o’clock we seemed to be in the
+centre of the artillery thunder area. Great guns were
+screeching and roaring all round us, and some of the
+enemy’s shells were bursting to our left front near the
+road along which we were moving. We were then ordered
+to pull our waggons off the road and bivouac them
+under a clump of trees near at hand in order to conceal
+them from enemy aeroplanes, which were hovering
+high up in the blue. The reason for at times concealing
+a Field Ambulance is that when a column is on the
+march the Field Ambulance has a definite position in the
+column; generally it is behind the ammunition column.
+The ambulance waggons, with their big white tented
+covers and conspicuous red crosses, are often the most
+prominent features on the road. The enemy flying-man
+when he sees a Field Ambulance knows that there
+is at least a brigade consisting of four battalions and
+an ammunition column in front of it, and he can then
+direct his gunners to plant their shells in front of the
+ambulance and so get the ammunition column and the
+brigade. Hence the necessity for sometimes hiding
+the whereabouts of a Field Ambulance.</p>
+
+<p>After we had bivouacked, our section cook managed
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>to light a fire in a hollow in a clump of trees, and soon
+brought us a much-desired mess of fried mutton, good
+bread and marmalade, and a can of tea. We rushed this
+as badly as the German prisoners did the bully beef
+earlier in the day.</p>
+
+<p>It was an odd meal, as we sat by the roadside viewing
+a desperate artillery duel, and between sips of tea snatching
+up field-glasses to gaze at the bursting shells on
+the ridges held by the angry Germans.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br>
+<span class="smaller">WHAT I SAW OF THE BATTLE OF THE MARNE.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>In a battle one really sees very little and knows very
+little of what is going on, except in the near neighbourhood.
+The broad perspective, the great view of a
+battle, cannot be seen by one pair of eyes. This can
+only be understood and appreciated afterwards when
+facts and events are gathered together and dovetailed
+to form the battle story. When I was sitting by the
+roadside on this August afternoon, amidst the crashing
+and shrieking of the guns, the bursting of the shells,
+the furious crackling of the rifles, and the snarling
+notes of the machine-guns, I guessed that a battle was
+in progress and that we were blazing furiously at an
+enemy who was blazing furiously back at us. Beyond
+that, I did not know very much. During the
+night I learned a good deal more of the day’s
+events. But the whole story was not connected up
+till many days afterwards. I am quite sure that
+the people of London knew more about the battle of
+the Marne from the War bulletins than I did, although
+I was one of the humble units present in the actual
+fighting.</p>
+
+<p>On this sultry summer day our ambulance section
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>was resting by the side of the dusty road that stretched
+in our rear towards Paris and on our front towards a
+lovely green valley at the bottom of which meandered
+the river Marne. It wound its sinuous way from our
+far right to our near left. Directly before us, and on
+the distant side of the river, was a steep ridge, part of a
+low chain of uplands which rolled hazily away to the
+right and stopped abruptly in clear-cut lines in our
+front. The road beside which we sat, dipped into
+the valley and crossed the river on a fine stone bridge
+and continued through the undulating country beyond
+to the north. Small villages were scattered about—Mery
+to the right, Saccy at the bridgehead, and small
+clusters of houses and farms on the countryside over
+the river. Some squadrons of dismounted cavalrymen
+were standing by their horses in a meadow near the
+bank of the river. These horsemen had been busy
+earlier in the day, and had done some hard riding,
+cutting off stragglers from the retreating German
+Army Corps. Infantry were hidden from view in the
+depths of the valley. Batteries on our left were sending
+a plunging fire of shot and shell on to the ridge and
+dips beyond the river, and the road leading from
+the bridge. With a field-glass, moving dots, and
+what looked like waggons, could be made out on the
+road and the field alongside. It was on these moving
+dots that our guns played, and cloud-bursts of earth
+and dust showed that our gunners had the range
+beautifully.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus06" style="max-width: 43.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus06.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Ambulances at the Marne.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>General French passed us twice in his Limousine car.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>General Smith-Dorrien passed twice—General Sir
+Charles Ferguson passed—all in motor-cars travelling
+like mad. Gallopers with messages spurred up and
+down the road. Guns thundered into position, unlimbered
+and were quickly in action. Infantry marching
+rapidly passed down the road into the valley where
+a tornado of rifle-fire was going on. One could make
+out the distinct note from our own rifles and the muffled
+one from the more distant German Mausers. Two
+German shells burst short of the battery on our left and
+uncomfortably close to us. We were in an odd position
+for an ambulance—in front of our own battery, which
+was pelting shot into the Germans and which a German
+battery was trying to locate. When the enemy shells
+fell short they fell near us. Our position, however, was
+a dress circle box seat as a view-point, so we stopped
+where we were. It was not every day that one could
+look on at a real live battle. Before dusk came on, an
+aeroplane appeared over the ridge flying towards us, and
+was shot at by enemy aircraft guns. The shells burst
+all round it, but it sailed triumphantly through them
+all, and to our intense relief landed safely in our lines
+with some valuable information.</p>
+
+<p>I was much interested to see our Generals on this day
+dashing about in powerful automobiles. A General is
+always interesting at the front, be he a Brigadier-General,
+a General of Division, or an Army Corps General.
+One gets a fleeting glimpse of a “Brass Hat” in a motor-car
+and asks, “Who is that?” Some one with a keen
+eye or a nimble fancy will enlighten. “That’s Haig,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>1st Corps,” or “Smith-Dorrien, 2nd Corps,” or
+“Ferguson, 5th Division.” “Wonder what’s up?” is
+the next usual query, for a General moving around
+means that “something’s up.”</p>
+
+<p>Smith-Dorrien is a General well worth seeing. It
+was “S.-D.” who handled the 2nd Army Corps
+from Mons during those terrible hard-fought days
+of the retreat, and he was now commanding the 3rd
+and 5th Divisions on this day on the Marne, when
+they forced the passage and deployed on the other
+side.</p>
+
+<p>When the action was at its hottest and every gun
+was busy, a car raced up from the valley in a swirling
+cloud of dust. The brakes were jammed hard down
+opposite us, the side door opened, and out stepped a
+well-knit, muscular, lithe figure, looking physically fit,
+smart, and cool in a well-made khaki uniform and red-banded
+cap. The face was a burnt-brick red, the
+moustache white, the eyes alert, wide open, and “knowing.”
+A savage, obstinate, determined chin dominated
+the face. It was the chin of a strong, stubborn nature,
+the chin of a prize fighter. This was Smith-Dorrien,
+the commander of the 2nd Army Corps, and at this
+moment the 2nd Corps were at grips with the enemy.
+With a few rapid strides he had reached the battery
+on our left, asked some question of the battery commander,
+and at once clapped field-glasses to his eyes and
+gazed long and intently at a spot on the other side of
+the valley pointed out to him by the battery commander.
+Our party of officers, filled with curiosity, also got out
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>field-glasses and focused in the same direction. Our
+shells could be seen bursting on a far ridge, and after a
+long stare we managed to make out what we thought
+were some guns, but we were not sure. A few
+more words to the battery commander, a careless
+salute, and Smith-Dorrien was back in his car,
+which was rapidly turned and disappeared “eyes
+out” down the dusty road up which it had but just
+come.</p>
+
+<p>As the car disappeared a tremendous rifle-fire broke
+out all along the valley beyond the stream. It made
+one’s pulses beat with excitement. The 2nd Army
+Corps was fighting hard in the valley at our feet,
+and Smith-Dorrien was down in the valley with his
+men.</p>
+
+<p>When the devil’s din was at its loudest, another
+powerful Limousine coming from the rear pulled up
+opposite us. “Go on, go on,” shouted a voice from the
+inside, and the car again sped on. Inside was Field-Marshal
+Sir John French poring over a map held out
+with both hands over his knees. His car also disappeared
+into the valley, and we again surmised that
+there must be some big thing going on down below to
+draw thither Field-Marshals, Corps Commanders, and
+Divisional Generals.</p>
+
+<p>An hour elapsed. All of the batteries except one
+had ceased fire, the cracking of our rifles was still heavy
+but more distant, and now two cars were seen coming
+slowly towards us from out the valley. In the front
+car were French and Smith-Dorrien. We augured that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>all was well, for the car was proceeding slowly, and the
+Field-Marshal was placidly smoking a cigar. Our
+augury was correct. We had forced the passage of the
+Marne, and were grimly in pursuit of the retreating
+foe.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE NIGHT OF THE MARNE.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>When the long day closed and darkness shrouded us
+all, the firing ceased completely, and the world felt
+strangely silent. The batteries limbered up and took
+the road down towards the river, and our ambulances
+followed the same way. The only sound heard was
+the crunching of the waggon wheels on the road. All
+else was soundless and still, a great quiet reigned over
+the valley which a short time before had been so tormented
+by the earthquake thunderings of battle.</p>
+
+<p>We went down deeper and deeper into the valley,
+and in pitch darkness entered the quaint old village of
+Saccy on the Marne. Saccy is an old, world-forgotten
+village of narrow cobbled streets and ancient stone
+houses. Situated on the south side of the bridge which
+spans the Marne, the old village has ambled sleepily
+through the centuries disturbing no one by its existence,
+and undisturbed itself by the big events of history.
+During the preceding forty-eight hours the old place
+was suddenly engulfed in a cyclone of movement, for a
+German Army Corps had retreated rapidly through its
+streets and over its bridge,—too rapidly to stay and sack
+the houses in the manner so loved by the German
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>soldiers. Their big guns had hurtled their iron messengers
+of death over the town from one side of the valley
+to the other, and sweating, panting British infantry,
+the finest warriors in the world, had pressed steadily
+along the same streets and over the bridge so lately
+trod by the enemy. Saccy had seen two armies pass
+through her, and had emerged safe and unhurt. When
+our ambulances entered Saccy the narrow streets were
+packed and congested with supply waggons, ammunition
+carts, guns, and marching infantry. The dull lights from
+shuttered windows or an open door and the occasional
+powerful glare from a big motor headlight lit up a scene
+of cursing drivers, struggling and straining horses, heavy
+lumbering waggons, and tired, thirsty, dusty marching
+men.</p>
+
+<p>The headquarters of the 5th Division was established
+in a café on the main street, and when we passed
+through the staff were at dinner in the large front room
+opening on to the street. We saw plates of steaming
+potatoes, a roast leg of mutton, bottles of pickles, and
+many bottles of red wine. The headquarters’ cook
+was evidently a man of resource and knew his job.</p>
+
+<p>After passing through the village we turned abruptly
+to the right and then we were at the bridge, a splendidly
+built stone affair with a parapet and side walks. The
+bridge was fine and wide, but our crossing was a slow
+process, owing to the mass of waggons, buses, and
+equipment ahead. Some artillery and infantry had
+already bivouacked on the other side of the bridge, and
+their camp fires with dicksies of boiling stews and of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>coffee looked very cheerful. Some of the men were
+sitting or standing round the fires, smoking their ever-popular
+Woodbine cigarettes; others were engaged
+lopping off branches from the forest trees for the fire;
+many had taken off their puttees, boots, and socks, and
+were cooling their feet. They all looked very happy,
+and cheerfully exchanged compliments and remarks
+with the drivers of the waggons, who still had some
+miles to go before they could rest. Our ambulances
+were, however, about a quarter of a mile farther on,
+swung up a narrow cutting into a field, and here we
+found the headquarters of the 15th Field Ambulance,
+with seven ambulance waggons, supply carts, water
+carts, horses, tent and hospital equipment. When we
+joined up the unit was again complete. We had crossed
+the Marne behind the 15th Infantry Brigade, but our
+work was not yet done.</p>
+
+<p>It was now eleven o’clock of a pitch black night with
+threatening rain. Our ambulances were packed in a
+semi-circle in the field near an old farmhouse. A huge
+log fire was blazing about 200 yards away, and round this
+were sitting some of the medical officers of the ambulance
+and two chaplains. I made my bow to my new
+comrades and introduced myself as the latest medical
+recruit to the unit, and was given a box to sit on, and a
+cup of hot tea, bread and marmalade. All of these
+officers had been through Mons and Le Cateau, and were
+now veterans. One who had just come in from the
+front with some stretchers, said that our cavalry had
+done splendidly during the day, and had made a very
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>fine charge, cutting off some companies of retreating
+infantry. Our Lancers had ridden through a squadron
+of Uhlans, turned round, and galloped through them
+again, spearing and slaying on their two bloody
+passages.</p>
+
+<p>We were in for a busy night, for all the stretcher
+parties from the various ambulances were out in the
+field collecting the wounded, whose arrival was expected
+now at any moment. An operating tent had been
+pitched in the field near by, and was brilliantly lit up
+with a huge acetylene lamp. The operating table
+was fixed in the centre of the tent and along each side
+were the instruments, basins, and dressings lying on the
+lids of the panniers, which made excellent side-tables.
+Very soon the ambulances lumbered up with the men
+picked up from the fields close at hand. The stretchers,
+each holding a wounded man, were taken out of the
+waggons and laid on a heap of straw near the door
+of the operating tent. Sixteen men were taken out and
+laid side by side. New stretchers were put in the
+waggons, which again set out to bring in more wounded.
+One surgeon stood on one side of the operating table,
+another stood opposite him, and a third surgeon was
+ready to assist or give an anæsthetic if necessary.</p>
+
+<p>Quietly and quickly one wounded man after
+another was lifted on to the table, his wounds were
+speedily dressed, and he was again carried out and laid
+on the straw with a blanket below and another above
+him. Those with painful wounds were given hypodermics
+of morphia. All who were fit to take nourishment
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>had hot soup, tea, bread and jam. Stimulants were
+given freely to those requiring it. The wounds were
+mostly from shrapnel, and only one case required an
+anæsthetic. He had a bad compound fracture of the
+thigh and was in terrible pain. We made some good
+splints and fixed up the limb comfortably and in good
+position. One poor devil had a bad abdominal wound
+for which we could do nothing. He was given a good
+dose of morphia and slept quietly and easily till five a.m.,
+when he ceased to breathe. At one o’clock in the
+morning wounded were still coming in, and the surgeon
+on duty was relieved by myself. So with coat off, bare
+arms and covered with an operating apron, I did my
+spell of surgical duty during that night on the banks of
+the Marne. Our stretcher parties at last were finished,
+and had all come in with the report that all the wounded
+had been brought in. They reported that there were
+large numbers of British and German dead on the
+roadsides and in the fields. At six o’clock our large list
+of wounded were sent off to railhead at Coulommiers
+on returning-empty supply waggons and under the
+charge of a medical officer. The operating tent was
+struck and all the panniers and equipment were packed.
+The Field Ambulance had done its “job.” It had
+followed its brigade into action, had collected all the
+wounded of that brigade, had dressed their wounds
+and made them comfortable during the night, and
+had then loaded all the wounded on waggons and sent
+them to railhead to join a hospital train. Having
+done this the ambulance was again ready to follow its
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>brigade and do the same again. The long night was
+over and a new day was upon us.</p>
+
+<p>This was the only occasion on the march that our
+Field Ambulance had to pitch an operating tent in a
+field. Generally a house or château was made use of as a
+dressing station. The tent made an excellent first-aid
+dressing station, but of course was unsuited for any
+major surgical operation, and we tried to avoid as
+far as possible doing much in the way of surgery.
+We examined every wound carefully to see that no
+bleeding was taking place, and all the fractures were
+very carefully splintered with firm wooden splints.
+The men suffered very little pain comparatively, and
+were remarkably cheerful when they had been dressed
+and placed on the straw. They seemed anxious to
+talk and review the events of the day, and they told
+us great tales of the Germans running away. One man
+said that he, with his company, was in a belt of trees
+lying down and watching an open space in their front.
+Some Uhlans, not knowing the British were so close,
+cantered up and halted; our men took careful aim and
+emptied twenty saddles with the first fusillade, and
+then fired on the panic-stricken, terrified horses who
+were careering off with the remaining Germans; when
+the horses fell the riders surrendered at once. The man
+who told me the story was slightly wounded later in the
+day, and had a Uhlan helmet as a souvenir of the affray
+near the forest.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">FROM THE MARNE TO THE AISNE.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>At 7 a.m. our Field Ambulance was ready to march.
+Breakfast was over, and we stood by awaiting orders.
+While waiting, some of us strolled back towards the
+bridge which we had crossed the previous night. It was
+now empty of men and vehicles. The ashes of the
+bivouac fires and the lopped branches of trees were all
+the tokens left of the passage of a German and a British
+Army Corps. The Marne is a deep stream with a slow
+current, and is a popular boating river. Two or three
+boating-club sheds lay pleasantly situated on the banks
+of the stream, bowered in foliage and trees. Up and
+down the river the scene was exceedingly beautiful. It
+was curious, when standing on the bridge, to think that
+in the previous forty-eight hours the tide of war had
+rolled over this lovely valley; that artillery had plastered
+the landscape with shrapnel and high explosives, and
+that riflemen had lined the banks where to stand exposed
+for one minute meant instant death; that many hundreds
+of men had died and many hundreds had been wounded
+and crippled for life. The ambulance lorries climbing
+out of the valley to the rear with the loads of wounded
+men were the aftermath of the glitter and panoply
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>of war, and of the deadly struggle in the now peaceful
+valley.</p>
+
+<p>At eight o’clock we received our orders to follow
+on. So “Field Ambulance, fall in!” and away we went
+on the great walk to the Aisne. At this time I did not
+have a horse. Every ambulance medical officer is
+provided with a horse; but horses were scarce just
+then, and with three other doctors I “foot-slogged” the
+way. It was a beautiful morning. The night’s rain
+had settled the dust on the roads, the sun was shining
+pleasantly, but drifting rain-clouds threatened a change.
+Major B—— and myself marched at the head of the
+column on foot. Behind marched the men of A Company—the
+stretcher-bearers and orderlies, followed by the
+six ambulance waggons of A Company. Then the men
+and the waggons of B Company, followed by the men and
+waggons of C Company. Water carts, kit waggons,
+supply and equipment carts, brought up the rear. Our
+<i>personnel</i> was about 250 men, and these with the
+waggons, carts, and horses made a fairly long column.
+Our road led in a snake-like way through the gradually
+rising uplands beyond the Marne on to the plain beyond.
+The countryside was typically French: clumps of forest
+were on our right, villages were dotted about everywhere,
+and there were many isolated farmhouses
+surrounded by belts of trees and orchards. The countryside
+was agricultural. The wheat and oats had been
+cut and newly-made stacks were standing in the stubble
+fields, and some of the fields still held the “stooks” of
+grain. About nine o’clock we came on the grim evidences
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>of war. Our road led right through a country over
+which the Germans were retreating and we were pursuing.
+Two large motor-cars, broken down, were lying in a ditch
+beside the road. These were German staff cars. One
+had a badly burst tyre and that seemed to be all that
+was the matter with it. Farther on was a smashed
+French ambulance waggon, with a broken axle, and full
+of equipment and stores, abandoned by the Germans.
+This car had evidently been captured from the French
+during the German advance. Four German soldiers
+of the Mecklenburg Corps were lying together in a ditch.
+All had been killed by shrapnel wounds in chest and
+head. It seemed as if the four men had sat down
+exhausted in the ditch by the roadside and that one of
+our shrapnel shells had burst right over them, killing
+them all outright. We removed their identification
+discs in order that they could be sent to Germany later
+on. Close by was another dead German lying face
+downwards on the earth and with both hands extended
+above his head. Shrapnel had caught him full in the
+back of the neck. In a small clump of trees to the left
+of the road were two more dead Germans. One was
+lying on his back with his left hand over a wound in the
+chest. The other soldier had evidently been trying to
+assist him, for he had been kneeling on the right side
+of the wounded man when he too received a mortal hurt
+and fell dead across his dying comrade. His head was
+lying in a deep puddle of coagulated blood. The rifle
+of one lay some distance off, evidently violently thrown
+away by the first man when he received his chest
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>wound. The rifle of the other soldier had been laid
+carefully against a tree within reach. The poor fellow
+did not reach out for it again. Two young Germans
+were found lying close together in a clump of vegetation.
+They had been sorely wounded and had crawled off the
+roadside into the friendly shelter of the trees. Left
+behind by their countrymen, grievously wounded
+and in dire distress, they had curled up together in the
+damp grass and died during the night. One had died
+from hæmorrhage and one from a brain injury.
+Another group of four soldiers had crawled into a ditch
+and were lying close together in their last long sleep—killed
+by one of our heavy shells.</p>
+
+<p>A small footpath at one place ran from the side of
+the road towards the gate of an orchard of apple trees.
+Two German soldiers were lying here dead, and with
+their rifles alongside them. One had just reached
+the gate and the other was close on his heels when a
+burst of British shrapnel stopped their further progress.
+Stragglers from the retreating army, they were making
+for the orchard to hide when death came suddenly
+upon them. So the grim picture went on. The German
+dead dotted the roadside, the clumps of trees, and the
+fields on either side. Thirty Germans were found killed
+on a small ridge to our right. Another one was found
+alive, but dying. His wounds were carefully dressed
+and we carried him into a neighbouring cottage to die.
+Our artillery at the Marne did deadly execution and
+our shrapnel must have made of that roadside and the
+fields alongside a perfect hell.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span></p>
+
+<p>Our gunners had got the range of the road and
+plastered it and the adjoining land with a murdering
+hail of lead and iron. It was curious to note how
+badly wounded men seemed to try to escape from the
+open and crawl into the shelter of a ditch or a clump of
+trees.</p>
+
+<p>A man wounded in the field would do as a
+wounded stag or rabbit would,—try for cover.
+Some men died after crawling away a few yards.
+Some got some distance away into the ditches and
+died there, a bloody trail marking their last painful
+journey.</p>
+
+<p>The expressions on the faces of the men were on the
+whole peaceful. Some had a look of wild surprise in
+their upward, staring eyes. Some looked as if a great
+fear and terror had possessed them at the last awful
+moment. The expression on the face of one finely
+built German officer, with a clean-cut intellectual face
+and firm jaw, was that of a sublime contempt. His
+eyes and nose and the curl on his lips betokened a
+contemptuous regard that was curious to see in a
+dead man.</p>
+
+<p>One burly young man killed by a shell wound in the
+abdomen had lived some time after having received
+his mortal hurt, for he had plucked some straw from
+the wheat stack near which he lay and made a pillow
+of it. On this he had rested his head. His military
+cloak lay over him, pulled tightly round his neck.
+There he lay with one hand under his head and resting
+on his pillow of crumpled straw, and the other hand
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>pressed on his wounded abdomen as if to give it some
+support. He looked like a man sleeping the peaceful
+sleep of utter fatigue, and when painlessly asleep his
+heart had ceased to beat. In his haversack there was
+a hard sausage and a piece of hard white bread. His
+water-bottle was empty and the cork had not been replaced,
+nor had the bottle been hooked on to his belt.
+Wounded, bleeding, thirsty, and exhausted, he had
+slowly crept off that awful field into the friendly shelter
+of the haystack.</p>
+
+<p>The dead Germans were young sturdy men, strong-jawed
+and wiry. This was no canaille whom we were
+fighting, but a trained, determined soldiery who would
+fight hard and die gamely.</p>
+
+<p>Our route for the remainder of this day lay through
+such scenes of blood and devastation. We passed
+abandoned ammunition trains, field guns, saddlery,
+field kitchens, and war equipment of all sorts. There
+could be no doubt about the precipitate retreat of the
+Germans, nor of the tenacious and pressing character
+of the pursuit. Large numbers of dead horses littered
+the roadsides and fields. Some had been wounded
+or killed by our fire. Some lay with outstretched
+necks and open mouths, dead from exhaustion, and
+some had evidently been shot as temporarily useless
+by the Germans themselves who did not wish them
+to remain alive for the enemy. One sorely wounded
+horse as we passed tried painfully to get up. We
+gave him the merciful dispatch with a revolver
+shot.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span></p>
+
+<p>Rain fell heavily during the afternoon for about
+an hour and then the sky cleared again. Continuous
+heavy fighting was going on all day on our front and
+flanks, and muffled waves of artillery bursts could be
+heard from the far distance. The whole French and
+British Army was advancing in one wide semi-circle,
+endeavouring to “roll up” two German Army
+Corps.</p>
+
+<p>After a hard, gruelling march of twenty-two miles
+we reached Chiezy. It was then pitch dark and we
+were all exhausted, for we had been on our feet for over
+twenty hours, part of the time marching, and part
+of the time standing by waiting to go forward. When a
+column is marching along a road, pursuing an enemy
+who is every now and again making a temporary stand
+to get a brigade or a battalion out of a tight corner,
+the going is necessarily slow and there are many waits—sometimes
+for ten minutes, sometimes for an hour or
+more. The waits on the roadside are really more tiring
+than the steady marching. When one is “soft” and
+not accustomed to long walking, a day’s march like this
+proves a torture. If such a “tenderfoot” sat down
+by the wayside for a few minutes, it was almost impossible
+to get the cramped body into the erect attitude
+again. Towards the end of the long, long day, and in
+the darkness of the night, with feet swollen and sore,
+brain and body numbed with fatigue, one did not
+march, but only stumbled and lurched along the never-ending
+road like a drunken man. A tired brain induces
+muscular fatigue, and physical exhaustion causes mental
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>torpor. When our ambulances pulled into the stubble
+field at Chiezy, we had lost all interest in the war, and
+in everything else on this earth except a cup of tea
+and a long sleep.</p>
+
+<p>However, certain duties had to be attended to
+before one turned in. The horses were looked after,
+the ambulances parked, and rations served out to the
+men. We had about twenty patients, all of them
+British soldiers with sore feet—men who had fallen
+out of the regiments on the march and had waited
+by the roadside for the ambulance waggons. We
+always ordered these poor devils to jump into the
+waggons and take off their boots and socks. This gave
+instant relief. The sores on the heels and across the
+instep were painted with iodine. In a few days
+the men were generally well and fit to rejoin their
+regiments.</p>
+
+<p>On bivouacking this night we got all these “foot
+birds” to wash their feet. This was a novel experience
+to men who had marched from Mons without a
+wash or change of socks. The officers’ cooks soon
+had coffee and stew ready, and our servants had
+spread straw on the ground, on which our valises
+were unrolled. The night was beautiful; about
+two miles away the guns were booming and the
+bright flashes of the bursting shells reminded us
+that war was close beside us. Without even taking
+off our boots we lay down on our valises and
+were asleep as soon as our bodies assumed the
+horizontal.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span></p>
+
+<p>At four o’clock next morning we were roused by the
+penetrating voice of the O.C., Major X——. “Turn
+out, turn out!” There was no escaping that voice or
+the caustic remarks that would be sure to come if one
+did not “turn out.” We all got buckets of water, and
+stripping in the open had a good morning bath in
+the buckets. It was cold, but bracing. Breakfast of
+coffee, bread, jam, and fried bacon. Day broke shortly
+afterwards and we found that we had camped on the
+scene of a struggle of the previous afternoon. Close by
+were a number of dead horses with their saddlery still
+on. Some newly-made graves were distinguished about
+500 yards from our sleeping quarters. A German
+cavalry patrol had been bivouacked near a wood hard
+by our camping-place, and had evidently been very
+badly handled, judging by the signs of confusion, the
+litter left behind, the dead horses, the recent graves.
+In a small hollow I picked up a very fine German
+saddle and bit, and a good waterproof sheet. A bundle
+of letters was lying near in a small leather satchel, and
+on the cover of the satchel was stitched the photograph
+of a very pretty woman’s face. Our O.C. had been
+educated in Germany, and being a good German
+scholar read the letters. They were of no military
+importance, and had been sent by the lady of the
+photograph to the owner of the satchel—evidently
+an officer. There were congratulations about his
+“promotion,” and an earnest, loving message for his
+safe return.</p>
+
+<p>Poor devil! We surmise that he must have been a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>young cavalry officer in command of the patrol. His
+“promotion” was short-lived, for he lay under one of
+the new mounds of clay, and the poor lady with the
+charming face would have some very sad hours
+when she learned from the German casualty lists that
+“Ober Lieutenant X—— was missing.” One of our
+men picked up here a very fine pair of new German
+boots. As his own were a little the worse for wear
+he put on the German ones, and said that they were
+much more comfortable than the British military boot.
+I believe that his observation was quite correct.
+Amongst other souvenirs picked up at this interesting
+corner were a pair of field-glasses, a revolver, a good
+set of razors and mirrors, an ivory-backed hair-brush—all
+made in Germany.</p>
+
+<p>Our greatest find was yet to come. As our ambulance
+was getting under way one of our R.A.M.C.
+corporals hove in sight marching proudly at the head
+of eleven fully-armed German prisoners. The corporal’s
+tale was full of interest. He was searching in the wood
+for more “souvenirs” when he came suddenly upon
+the eleven soldiers lying together in a small clearing.
+The corporal thought that his last hour had come.
+All the tales of German atrocities he had heard unfolded
+rapidly in his mind, and when the German non-commissioned
+officer got up and approached him, speaking
+German, which our corporal did not understand, he
+thought that his death-sentence was being pronounced.
+By signs, to the utter amazement of the corporal, he
+grasped the fact that the Germans wished to surrender.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>He beckoned the enemy to follow him, and the eleven
+hungry, tired, and very dirty-looking Mecklenburghers
+came docilely into camp. Our O.C. approached them,
+took their rifles, and ordered them coffee, bully beef, and
+biscuits. The prisoners set to without delay, and ate
+as only hungry Germans can eat. Three of them had
+badly blistered feet, and when we marched off these
+were accommodated in the ambulance waggons. The
+remainder marched behind the waggons of A
+Company, under charge of the corporal who “captured”
+them. Later in the day we handed them
+over to the Norfolk Regiment, as it was clearly
+against the etiquette of war for a Field Ambulance
+to have prisoners of war. We hadn’t a gun amongst
+us.</p>
+
+<p>The capture of eleven prisoners of war by our Field
+Ambulance was the occasion for much joy to our men,
+and the corporal was a very proud man. I don’t know
+what the Germans thought when they discovered that
+they had surrendered to an unarmed party. The 15th
+Field Ambulance is so far the only ambulance which
+has taken prisoners of war, and I hope that the
+R.A.M.C. messes at Aldershot and Netley will duly
+treasure the fact in the archives.</p>
+
+<p>Rain fell heavily when we left Chiezy, and we were
+soon soaked to the skin. The roads were quagmires
+of greasy and sticky mud, heavy lowering clouds made
+everything sombre and grey, and the countryside
+looked mournful and cheerless. Mile after mile we
+trudged in the pitiless rain. I shall always remember
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>the march from the Marne to the Aisne, for its wet and
+mud. Shortly after leaving Chiezy we came upon
+some gruesome evidences of German savagery. Near
+a stable built on to a farmhouse we saw a Frenchman
+lying dead across a manure heap. The top of his head
+had been blown off, and his brains were plastered over
+his face. The man, evidently the proprietor, had
+been shot the previous day by a German officer. There
+was an old woman at the farm, and she told us this, and
+that she had seen him fall. What was the reason for
+the brutal murder she did not know. She said that
+the officer and the farmer seemed to be in conversation
+near the stable, and the farmer appeared to be protesting
+at something. Suddenly the officer placed the
+muzzle of his revolver close to the farmer’s forehead
+and shot him. The wound had been inflicted at close
+range, and we were filled with disgust at such a callous
+murder. About a mile farther on, we met another
+poor devil who had been done to death. A middle-aged
+man with a bald head, bare-footed, and dressed
+in an old pair of blue pants and a cotton shirt, was
+lying near a plough close to the road. His head had
+been battered in, probably with the butt-end of a rifle,
+and he had been dead for about twenty-four hours.
+Why the poor wretched man had been killed we did
+not know. The third instance of this fiendish villainy
+I saw later on in the day at Billy. This time it was
+a young man, a mere youth, and he lay face downwards
+at the door of a cowhouse, dead from a bullet wound
+in the chest. I examined the wound with some care,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>and would be quite prepared to swear in any court of
+law that the man who shot him had pressed the revolver
+against the dead man’s chest when he pulled the trigger.
+This is the German way. These examples of nauseous
+and disgusting frightfulness amazed me. I had never
+before come up against such tragedies, and I felt an
+unholy pleasure that our big guns farther along the
+road were pouring shrapnel and shell amongst the living
+devils who did such things.</p>
+
+<p>At Billy our Brigadier-General, Count Gleichen,
+ordered us to bivouac for the night. Major B—— and
+I billeted in a small cottage abutting on a very smelly
+cowshed. At the cottage fire we dried our soaking
+uniforms, and dug dry underclothing out of our valises,
+which we spread on the kitchen floor and lay upon.
+Madame of the cottage was full of the latest war news.
+She was <i>très intelligente</i> and very satisfied with the
+progress of the war. She told us that our advanced
+guard had entered the village only six hours behind
+the retreating Germans; that the Germans were in a
+great hurry and were too tired almost to march; that
+their officers were angry and cursed and struck the
+men who lagged behind. She also assured us that
+some Uhlans had ridden through, and that they
+were very drunk and had bottles of champagne
+suspended in festoons round their necks. While making
+some tea, and boiling eggs, she cheered us up
+with the assurance that the war would soon be over,
+for Monsieur le Curé had told her so himself, bless his
+heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span></p>
+
+<p>The Curé opened his church and allowed our men
+to carry in straw and sleep there for the night. This
+was a godsend to our men during that night of pouring
+rain, and the Curé got many a rough blessing for his
+kind act. The villagers at Billy were much heartened
+at seeing the British so close on the German heels,
+and one old fellow—he must have been a centenarian—got
+very drunk on the strength of it all, and assured
+us that he was a veteran of the <i>soixante-dix</i> and had
+killed many Germans at that time. He was too drunk
+to remember the exact number.</p>
+
+<p>During the night I was awakened by a tremendous
+artillery fire. The batteries beyond the village had
+got the range of something and were giving them
+hot potatoes. Madame of the cottage was very
+alarmed, and thought that the Germans were
+coming back. Her confidence in the British was
+not as firm as she had led us to believe the previous
+evening.</p>
+
+<p>We were all out and ready to march at five o’clock
+next morning, but did not move off till seven o’clock.
+Rain still continued to pour down and we were all
+miserably muddy and damp. Whenever a big artillery
+duel took place heavy rain was sure to follow. This
+was so on the Marne and on the Aisne, and some one
+with a meteorological bent had made the same observations
+during the Peninsular War. All day long we
+marched or waited on the muddy, sopping <i>pavé</i> with
+waterproof sheets tucked round our necks and
+shoulders, off which the water streamed. The advance
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>now was very slow, and we were told that our men
+ahead were meeting with a more organised and steady
+resistance. We no longer met evidences of a precipitate
+retreat. There were no more German dead or
+abandoned material by the roadsides.</p>
+
+<p>At 9 p.m. in the dark we entered the doleful village
+of Chacrise. For sixteen hours we had been on our
+feet and had only covered about eight or nine miles.
+The soft roads, ground down by our heavy waggons
+and guns, were in a bad state, and we walked through
+ankle-deep mud and slush. When we entered Chacrise
+we were told that all the billets had been taken up.
+The church, the <i>Mairie</i>, the shops, and houses were all
+occupied by our soldiers. It looked as if we should
+have to sit all night on the cobble-stones of the street,
+and what with the darkness, the incessant pouring rain,
+and the fatigue, we were all very sorry that we had come
+to France to fight Germans. But every cloud has its
+silver lining. We found an unoccupied house down
+a dark alley. The windows were firmly shuttered and
+the door securely locked. The occupants had locked
+up their house and bolted when the Germans were
+known to be about. By a little skilful burglary with a
+jemmy we opened a window. One of us got in and
+opened the front door from the inside: very soon our
+cook had a fire lighted and a hot supper ready. We
+got all our men and horses under good cover, and our
+night at Chacrise, which promised so badly, turned out
+very happily. We were all given an issue of rum this
+night. Rum is an oily, nauseous drink, but given
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>certain surroundings and a certain physical state it
+has a most excellent flavour. On the night at
+Chacrise everything conspired to make the rum very
+palatable.</p>
+
+<p>At 4 a.m. next day our never-sleepy O.C. disturbed
+our dreams with his “Turn out, turn out!” and out
+we turned. We had no choice when he was stalking
+round. Again we stepped out on muddy roads, and
+under a heavy downpour of soaking rain, and marching
+and stopping, reached the village of Serches on the
+Aisne at eleven o’clock in the morning. The rain
+then ceased and a glorious, welcome sun appeared.
+The whole countryside was bathed in a delightful
+warmth, and we felt glad to be alive.</p>
+
+<p>We were ordered to bivouac our ambulances in a
+field behind the village, and were told that the German
+rearguard was holding up our advance most determinedly
+along the Aisne banks, and that the enemy
+artillery was in great strength.</p>
+
+<p>Our march from the Marne to the Aisne was accomplished,
+and we now entered upon a new and different
+phase of the great war game. Our Brigade was in
+action on the Aisne banks, and we had to take up a
+position behind it and be prepared to receive its
+wounded and sick.</p>
+
+<p>The Field Ambulance with a marching army takes its
+number from the Brigade which it serves. The 15th
+Field Ambulance followed the 15th Brigade; the
+13th Field Ambulance, the 13th Brigade, and so on.
+Four regiments or battalions form a Brigade, and all
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>the other units attached to the Brigade, such as
+cavalry or ammunition columns, are also medically
+attended by the Field Ambulance attached to their
+Brigade.</p>
+
+<p>Our Brigade consisted of the Norfolks, Cheshires,
+Bedfords, and Dorsets, and the Brigadier was
+Major-General Count Gleichen, now a General of
+Division.</p>
+
+<p>It was from these regiments that we received
+most of our casualties on the Marne, on the Aisne,
+and later at La Bassée, and, as the following few
+notes will show, we were serving with regiments who
+had proved themselves doughty warriors in the
+past.</p>
+
+<p>The Norfolk Regiment was created in 1685 in the
+time of the Stuarts to help suppress the rebellion of
+Monmouth. Their badge is the figure of Britannia,
+well won, in 1707, for their gallant bearing at Almanza.
+This great regiment has done sterling service in many
+lands, and has as battle honours, Roleia, Corunna,
+Peninsula, Sevastopol, Afghanistan, and South Africa.
+Their nicknames are three, “The Holy Boys,”
+“The Fighting Ninth” (they were formerly called
+the 9th Regiment of Foot), and the “Norfolk
+Howards.”</p>
+
+<p>The Bedfordshire Regiment, with its badge of the
+united red and white rose, and its battle honours with
+the proud names, Blenheim, Ramillies, Chitral, was a
+magnificent unit in France when we joined it. The
+regiment had been raised in the last years of James II.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>in 1688, and from 1809 to 1881 was known as the
+16th Regiment of Foot. The nicknames of the regiment
+are “The Peacemakers,” “The Featherbeds,”
+“The Bloodless Lambs.” This regiment lost heavily
+at Missy on the Aisne, and at Ypres later on in the war
+it had over 650 casualties.</p>
+
+<p>The Cheshires, with a united red and white rose
+for a badge like the Bedfords, were raised in 1689, and
+were in old days the 22nd Regiment of Foot. Their
+war record includes Martinique, Hyderabad, Scinde,
+and South Africa, and their nicknames are “The Two
+Twos,” “The Red Knights,” and “The Lightning
+Conductors”—when marching in Ireland about fifteen
+years ago the regiment was struck by lightning. The
+Cheshires have suffered terribly during this war, and
+at Missy we had a number of their casualties to treat,
+and many were buried near the old village on the
+Aisne.</p>
+
+<p>The Dorsetshire Regiment has a proud motto,
+“Primus in Indis,” commemorating its great services
+in India, and the fact that it stands first in order of
+precedence amongst British regiments that have seen
+war there. The drum-major of this regiment still
+carries the staff of the Nawab’s herald on parade.
+It was captured at Plassey, where the regiment was in
+action under Clive.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, Commander of the 5th
+Division, “particularly mentioned the fine fighting of
+the Dorsets. They suffered no less than 400 casualties.
+Their Commanding Officer, Major Roper, was killed,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>but all day they maintained their hold on Pont Fixe.”
+Their battle story is a great one, and includes Plassey,
+Albuera, Vittoria, Sevastopol, and Relief of Ladysmith.
+The 1st Battalion was raised in 1702. The “Green
+Linnets” is their nickname.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE AISNE AND THE TRAGEDY OF THE SUNKEN ROAD.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>On arriving at Serches on the Aisne our ambulance
+pulled off into a sloping grassy field, and the tired
+horses were taken out, fed, and rubbed down. Fires
+were lit and we all prepared to enjoy ourselves by
+resting in the glorious sun’s rays, washing, shaving,
+and smoking a pipe in comfort. For the past few
+days we could not smoke in the open owing to the
+rain.</p>
+
+<p>A tremendous artillery engagement was going on at
+the front. Our batteries were posted behind a long
+ridge not far from where we were, and every gun was in
+action, making the air resound with the bursting charges.
+It was not by any means a one-sided affair, as we were
+soon to know. The enemy were firing from a ridge on
+the other side of the river, and they had got our positions
+very accurately. At one o’clock a Taube flew over our
+position and dropped three bombs. Two fell near us
+with a terrible clatter, one on the road to our left down
+which we had come, and one about 400 yards behind us
+in a belt of trees. The third one actually fell in our
+field, and plunged itself angrily into the soft turf. Our
+position was obviously not a safe one for a Field Ambulance,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>and we got orders to retire two miles farther back.
+We did not move off, however, till 5 p.m.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus07" style="max-width: 43.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus07.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Halt at Serches.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Major B—— and I walked through the village of
+Serches and turned up the road leading to the right
+behind a steep ridge which flattened out into a plain of
+about one to two miles’ width. This plateau fell abruptly
+on its northern side right on to the Aisne River. When
+climbing up this road, which led to the summit of the
+ridge, we passed numerous stretcher-bearers bringing in
+wounded to the 13th Field Ambulance, which was also
+quartered in the village. The men with slight hand
+or head wounds were walking, and the serious cases
+were on stretchers. The Germans had got the range
+of the ridge summit towards which our road led,
+and were freely plastering it with shrapnel and Black
+Marias.</p>
+
+<p>On approaching the top of the rise we saw two of our
+batteries on our right, and three on our left well forward
+in the plateau, and busily engaged. Our guns at this
+date were not concealed from inquisitive Taubes by
+trees and foliage—that lesson had not yet been learned
+by the conservative Briton. German shells were
+bursting on the ridge in good line for our guns, but about
+a quarter of a mile short. Our road now took a direct
+turn for the far side of the plateau, and here it went
+through a deep cutting down to a bridge which spanned
+the river. On the left-hand side of the road at the
+cutting there was a large gravel pit or cave where road-metal
+was obtained. The road across the plateau was
+open and exposed, but from the cutting to the banks of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>the river it was lined with pine trees. Major B—— and
+myself were standing on the road at the top of the ridge
+trying to make out the German positions with our field-glasses.
+A gunner officer, seeing the red-cross brassards
+on our arms, hurried up and said, “You are urgently
+wanted in the sunken road about a mile and a half down.
+Two doctors have just been killed and there are a lot of
+badly wounded on the road.” We had no dressings of
+any sort with us. We had come thus far out of curiosity,
+not expecting that it was such a “hot corner.” We,
+however, went forward at the double along this exposed
+road, passing upturned waggons, dead and dying horses,
+khaki caps and overcoats, overturned and smashed
+water carts. Out of breath, we reached the cave and
+found how urgently necessary we were. The scene
+defied description. The cave was a shambles of
+mangled forms. Nineteen wounded men were lying in
+the loose sandy gravel, having just been brought in by
+their surviving uninjured comrades. One was on the
+point of death from a shrapnel wound of the brain—the
+bullet had passed through the orbit. There were
+fractured limbs, shrapnel wounds of the chest, abdomen,
+and head, shell wounds and concussions. We did
+all we possibly could with first-aid dressings. We got
+the uninjured men to take off their puttees, and these we
+used as bandages; rifles were employed as splints for the
+lower limbs, and bayonets for the upper limbs. One
+poor officer, Captain and Quartermaster M——, an old
+soldier with two rows of ribbons on his coat, had a badly
+shattered thigh and knee. He was suffering tortures,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>and his anguished face showed the strong efforts he made
+to control himself. Lieut. W——, R.A.M.C., a civil
+surgeon, had a smashed ankle-joint. We sent at once for
+ambulances and stretcher parties. These soon arrived,
+and the terribly wounded men were conveyed to the
+Field Hospital which had just been arranged at
+Serches.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Captain M—— died that night, and was buried
+near a stone wall in the garden at the old farmhouse of
+Mont de Soissons, and the doctor had to have his leg
+amputated later. He was a very plucky man. Even
+when wounded and lying in helpless pain, he gave instructions
+about the other wounded men.</p>
+
+<p>After the wounded were sent away I walked a few
+yards down the road to the place of the disaster. Here
+was a scene of ghastly horror. On the road lay mangled
+and bleeding horses, dead men lying in all sorts of
+convulsed attitudes, upturned waggons, smashed and
+splintered wood. Add to this the agonised groans of
+our wounded men, the shrill scream of dying horses,
+and that impalpable but nevertheless real feeling of
+standing in the face of the Creator—one can, perhaps,
+then feebly picture this scene of carnage, of the solemnity
+of death, and of the pitiless woe of this devastation.
+Where could one find here a trace of the glory, pomp,
+and magnificence of war?</p>
+
+<p>The story of the incident is one not uncommon.
+A party of men of the West Kents were sitting by the
+roadside beyond the cutting, having a meal of bully
+beef and biscuits. As they were eating, a cavalry ambulance
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>came up from the bridge over the Aisne. When
+the ambulance was abreast of the West Kents, a German
+battery landed a Black Maria on the ambulance, and at
+the same moment shrapnel burst right amongst them
+all. The heavy explosive and the shrapnel did terrible
+execution. Captain F——, R.A.M.C., was killed outright,
+the other doctor was badly hurt. Eight men of
+the West Kents met instantaneous death; eight horses
+were killed, and three horribly mangled and flung off the
+road by the violence of the explosion. On examining
+these dead men on the road it was noticeable that they
+had all received a multiplicity of wounds. One man,
+a burly sergeant-major, had a big hole in his head, another
+huge hole in his neck, a lacerated wound of the
+chest, and one boot and foot blown completely away.
+All had widely open staring eyes. The expression
+seemed to be one of overwhelming surprise and
+horror.</p>
+
+<p>Poor fellows! Their moment of surprise and horror
+must indeed have been brief, for death is dealt out at
+these times with a lightning flash.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus08" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus08.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Gun teams at the Marne.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus09" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus09.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">The way to the sunken road.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>In describing events in this war one unconsciously
+has to turn to superlatives. “Devilish, hellish, bloody,
+awful, and terrible” are words that come most trippingly
+to the tongue. This war is superlative in all its moods
+and tenses. Superlative in the number of men engaged,
+in the extent of the battle front, in the duration of the
+battles, in the misery it is causing and has caused, in
+the awful loss of life, in the mutilating wounds caused by
+the shrapnel, in the number of the missing, in the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>atrocities, inhumanities, and blasting cruelties of the
+enemy, and in their wanton destruction of all that is
+sacred and revered.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Few few shall part</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Where many meet.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br>
+<span class="smaller">MISSY ON THE AISNE.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>We left Serches at 5 p.m. and retraced our road
+for about two miles till we reached the ancient Château-farm
+of Mont de Soissons. This historic farm was our
+headquarters during September and till the date we
+left in October 1914, and it was during this eventful
+period that all the great stirring events “on the Aisne”
+took place. “On the Aisne,” how much of tragedy
+and pathos, of great deeds, of gallant deaths, stubborn
+fighting, and indomitable courage are associated with
+those words?</p>
+
+<p>On the night after our arrival at Mont de Soissons,
+the ambulance officers were sitting about eleven o’clock
+round a table in the old dining-room of the Château,
+when an urgent order arrived from headquarters to
+send doctors, stretcher-bearers, and ambulance waggons
+with equipment to Missy. The orders were for the
+ambulances to get to Missy in the dark, pick up the
+wounded, and at all costs to come out again in the
+dark. To get to Missy, which was situated on the far
+side of the Aisne, we would have to cross the river, and,—reading
+between the lines of this definite order to get
+in under cover of darkness and get out again in the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>dark,—one could see that our night ride was to be a
+somewhat perilous one.</p>
+
+<p>Section C, the section to which I was attached,
+was ordered to undertake the task, and at twelve o’clock,
+on a pitch-dark rainy night, our section was ready to
+move off. We had five waggons, with the complete
+<i>personnel</i> of one section. Major B—— was in command,
+with Lieutenant I—— and myself as the other medical
+officers, and with us Monsignor, the Catholic chaplain
+attached to our field ambulance, also came as a
+volunteer. Monsignor was the salt of the earth, and
+whenever he thought that he could be of service to our
+wounded men he was there. There was no demand
+on him on this wild rainy night to leave the comfortable
+shelter of the farmhouse and voyage out towards the
+enemy lines; but he had a strong sense of duty, and
+behind the priest there was more than a <i>soupçon</i> of
+the knight-errant, who warmed at the thought of a
+dangerous adventure.</p>
+
+<p>We were not permitted to light our waggon lamps,
+and in the darkness we rumbled off, anxious not to lose
+any time over our mission, and if possible complete it
+under cover of darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Misfortune dogged us from the start. We had but
+one map; and as nobody could give us any directions,
+that was our only guide. We mapped out the route,
+Mont de Soissons to Serches—Serches to Venizel on the
+banks of the Aisne, where was the bridge by which
+we were to cross the river—Venizel to Bucy le Long, and
+thence to Missy. Altogether, we reckoned that we had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>7 or 8 miles at least to go; but it proved to be a
+“long, long way to Tipperary.”</p>
+
+<p>After being five minutes on the march we discovered
+that we were on the wrong road, and it took
+twenty minutes to turn the waggons on the narrow,
+muddy <i>pavé</i> and get on again. Passing through
+Serches, we turned to the left and followed the road
+through a valley leading to the banks of the Aisne.
+Here again we were nearly off on a wrong road, and
+lost about another twenty minutes righting ourselves.
+The country was intersected with roads not indicated
+on our map. We now got on to a narrow road dipping
+sharply down towards a clump of trees, and here one
+of our waggons slipped over the embankment, and one
+of the horses was killed. We could not get the waggon
+up again, so abandoned it and pushed on with our
+remaining four waggons, water cart, and supply waggon.
+The loss of this waggon was a serious blow to us, as
+events will show.</p>
+
+<p>As we entered the forest we were challenged by a
+sentry of the Cameron regiment, who passed us on.
+A Cameron officer met us here and told us that we were
+going into a bad place, as late that afternoon he had
+lost some men from shrapnel at the very spot where
+we then were. Progress was very slow for the next
+500 yards, as the road was barricaded with felled trees,
+and trenches had been dug alongside. After negotiating
+this nasty corner we got on quickly to Venizel.</p>
+
+<p>We reached Venizel right on the banks of the Aisne,
+and learned to our chagrin that the fine stone bridge
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>had been destroyed by the German artillery that day.
+The engineers with superhuman energy had just about
+completed a pontoon bridge. We were kept waiting
+here for an hour. Then, one waggon at a time, we got
+across. The bridge was very doubtfully lit at either
+end by darkened lanterns, and one seemed to be very
+close to the swift current of the Aisne, already in flood.
+At the far side of the bridge our progress was again
+very slow for some time, as we had to meander gingerly
+between the trenches dug for the men who were holding
+the bridge-end. As we left the pontoon an optimistic
+engineer lieutenant, in clothes dripping with water,
+cheerfully called out “Good luck. Hope you get
+back all right.” In reply we warned him that he
+would get pneumonia if he didn’t change his clothes,
+and that it was foolish to take baths in the Aisne with
+a uniform on.</p>
+
+<p>Our road lay now along a flat plain, curving to the
+right. The night was very dark and ominously silent.
+Our men were forbidden to talk or smoke cigarettes, as
+we were approaching the enemy lines. Reaching Bucy
+le Long, we inquired the way from a Scottish officer
+who was standing near a stone well on the village street.
+All his men were alert and under arms and expecting
+an attack at any moment. The officer, speaking with
+the good Doric accent, indicated our way and told us
+to hurry on and get under cover, as Missy was very
+“nasty” just then and they expected a German attack.</p>
+
+<p>We realised by this time that we might get into
+Missy in the dark, but by no possibility could we bring
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>the wounded out in the dark; and by the serious preparations
+for repelling an attack in the village street we
+knew that we could not get out in daylight. It looked
+as if we were soon to be in the thick of that most
+sanguinary of all forms of war—street fighting.</p>
+
+<p>So on we went, and after taking another wrong
+turn and losing another half-hour we got on to a straight
+road leading direct to Missy. It was extraordinarily
+difficult to find one’s way, as the night was dark and
+everything was strange and unfamiliar. There seemed
+to be hundreds of roads, and the greatest care had to
+be exercised; for a wrong turning would land us very
+speedily in the German lines, and none of us wished
+our expedition to end in an inglorious pilgrimage to
+Germany.</p>
+
+<p>As the first doubtful streaks of dawn appeared we
+reached Missy.</p>
+
+<p>The main street of the village was full of men of
+the Norfolks and Cheshires, all up and armed, and
+awaiting the Germans. There had been a very hot
+skirmish outside the village on the previous afternoon,
+and the Norfolks and Cheshires had lost heavily. It
+was the wounded from this mêlée that we were to get
+to. A cheery Norfolk sergeant directed us down a
+small lane to the right of the street, telling us that there
+were a lot of badly hit men somewhere at the bottom
+of the lane. The lane was too narrow to admit of our
+ambulances, so they were parked in front of a baker’s
+shop and the horses were taken out. We hurried down
+the lane and found the wounded men.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span></p>
+
+<p>Dawn was breaking and shafts of grey light and
+shadow were thrusting through the darkness. Then,
+like a clap of thunder, the German batteries opened
+up, and from that moment till nightfall we lived
+through one of the most hellish artillery duels that any
+mortal man could imagine. A tornado of shot and shell
+swept across that beautiful Aisne valley. It seemed
+as if all the fiends of hell were let loose. The noise was
+deafening, ear-splitting, the bursting of the shells, the
+mighty upheavals of earth where the shells struck, the
+falling trees, falling masonry, crashing church steeples,
+the rolling and bounding of stones from walls struck
+by these titanic masses of iron travelling at lightning
+speed, the concussion of the air, the screeching, whisking,
+and sighing of the projectiles in their flight, made an
+awful scene of destruction and force. Add to all this the
+snarling, typewriter note of the Maxims, the angry phut
+of the Mauser bullet as it struck a house or a gate, and the
+crackling roars from our Lee-Metfords—truly it was the
+devil’s orchestra, and the devil himself was whirling the
+fiery baton. The steeple of the village church was
+struck fairly by a German shell, and with a mighty
+crash the stones were hurled madly on to the road
+down which we had but just passed, and killed one of
+our horses. Another shell plunged right into the old
+church and sent its roof in a clattering hail over the
+surrounding houses. A stone house at the top of our
+alley-way got another shell and was levelled to the
+ground, killing two women who were inside. The
+corner of the building in which we were located was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>struck by a passing shell and a huge hole was ripped
+out of the solid masonry. Shrapnel burst over the
+house, in the garden in front, on the doors of the house,
+on the roof, and down the alley. Our red cross flag
+and Union Jack were badly holed with shrapnel. At
+the kitchen door a large piece of shell fell, sending mud
+and gravel against the windows and into the room. A
+railway line ran past the foot of our garden, and stretching
+from this railway line to the banks of the Aisne in the
+distance was a wide grassy meadow on which some
+cows were grazing. A thicket of tall trees, surrounding
+a small farmhouse, was situated to the right of the
+meadow. This house was the headquarters of Count
+Gleichen, the commander of the 15th Brigade. The
+Germans evidently were aware of this fact, for the
+first shots they fired at break of day were at this house.
+We could plainly see one shot fall short of the house,
+but in a straight line for it. The second shot we thought
+had really got the house, but fortunately this was not so.
+It landed near the door, as we learned later. After this
+shot the headquarters galloped off as hard as they
+could go, and the enemy tried to reach them with
+shrapnel, but without success. Alongside the railway
+line there was a line of trenches, and every inch of that
+line seemed to have been covered during the day by the
+German fire. Their artillery practice was perfect,
+and at this period of the war the enemy artillery mightily
+outclassed ours. Our guns from the ridge on the other
+side of the Aisne made but a feeble reply to the terrific
+German bombardment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span></p>
+
+<p>Now for the story of our wounded at Missy. When we
+got down our alley at dawn on this eventful morning we
+found eighty-four grievously wounded men. In a little
+stone fowlhouse to the left of the alley, fourteen men were
+lying packed close together. There was no place to put
+one’s foot in trying to walk over them. To the right of
+the alley a gate opened into a gravel yard of a fine
+two-storied stone house, a very old and solidly built
+building. The house formed three sides of a square; a
+beautiful flower garden with a rose pergola formed the
+fourth side. The gravel yard was in the centre. The
+lower story of this building, with the exception of the
+kitchen and an adjoining room, consisted of stables,
+granaries, saddlery rooms, and coachhouse. Lying on
+the floors of the stable, kitchen, etc., were wounded
+men. They had all been wounded the previous evening
+in an attack on the enemy concealed in a wood. The
+wounded in the small fowlhouse were carried, under
+shrapnel fire, across the alley to the big house and placed
+in the room adjoining the kitchen and in the saddlery
+room. The cooks made up a big fire and soon had hot
+water boiling. The three medical officers were soon
+rapidly at work. The first case attended to was that
+of a young soldier of the Norfolks who had been struck
+by a shell in the abdomen. His intestines were lying
+outside the body, and loops were inside the upper part
+of his trousers. Under chloroform we did what we
+could. He died painlessly four hours afterwards.
+There were many bad shell wounds of the head; one
+necessitating a trephining operation. One poor fellow
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>had his tongue half blown off. The loose bit was
+stitched on. The compound fractures were numerous
+and of a very bad type, associated with much shattering
+of the bone. Four men died during the day, but our
+arrival and timely help undoubtedly saved many men.
+We made the poor fellows as comfortable as we could,
+and we were incessantly busy from the moment we
+entered this blood-stained place. I personally shall
+never forget the sight of these poor, maimed, bleeding,
+dying and dead men crowded together in those out-houses,
+with not a soul near them to help, and I am more
+than thankful that I was privileged to be of service and
+to employ my professional skill to help them in their
+dire hour of need. We knew that we were in a tight
+corner. We expected that at any moment we would
+be all blown to pieces; we did not know how we were
+to get these men back to our own lines; but we knew
+also that whatever happened we would stand by our
+helpless countrymen to the last, and if we failed to get
+them safely back it would not be our fault. I mentioned
+previously that when our ambulance got orders
+to go to Missy, Monsignor, the Roman Catholic chaplain,
+volunteered to come with us. It is difficult to attempt
+to write of our brave Monsignor. He was the bravest
+of the brave. When the three medical officers were
+working hard with the wounded—dressing, operating,
+anæsthetising—Monsignor was very busy too. He made
+hot soups, hot coffee, prepared stimulating drinks, set
+orderlies to work to see that every man who could take
+nourishment got it. One man injured in the mouth could
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>swallow only with the greatest difficulty. Monsignor
+patiently sat by this man, and one way or another with
+a spoon managed to give him a pint of hot Oxo soup
+and a good stiff nip of brandy. This splendid prelate
+carried straw with his own hands and made pillows
+and beds for our men. He took off boots and cut off
+bloody coats and trousers in order to help the work
+of the surgeons. He rummaged in a cellar in the house
+and discovered a box of apples. These he cut into
+slices for our men. He stood by our dying men and
+spoke words of cheer and comfort to the poor helpless
+fellows. He was absolutely reckless about himself.
+Exposed to shrapnel and shell fire many times during
+the day, he was too busy attending to the wounded to
+think about anything else. Towards dusk, when our
+work eased off, we collected some pieces of shell which
+fell near him—as souvenirs. I looked at Monsignor
+many times during the day, and was struck with his
+expression of content and his happy smile. He was
+exalted and proud and happy to be where a good priest,—and
+what a good priest he was!—could be of such
+great service. I am not a Catholic, but I honour the
+Church that can produce such a man as Monsignor, and
+I very greatly honour Monsignor.</p>
+
+<p>As darkness came on the hellish artillery fire
+quietened down and then ceased altogether. The rifle-firing
+continued intermittently for a little while longer
+and then it too ceased. We were now “up against”
+the last and greatest trial of all—the evacuation of our
+wounded. During the day some more wounded men
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>had crawled into us, and we had now 102 men to bring
+back to our lines. We managed in the darkness to get
+two large French country carts to act as ambulances.
+Our four ambulance waggons were, of course, not
+enough, and even with the help of the country carts
+we could not accommodate 102 wounded men. Every
+man wounded in the head or arms who could walk,
+was told off to march with our stretcher-bearers. We
+packed the wounded lying-down cases into the
+ambulance waggons and on to the country carts.
+Plenty of straw had previously been placed in these
+latter. We were compelled to load up our waggons
+and carts far too heavily, but our position was a serious
+one; we had to get the wounded out somehow, and we
+had no one to help us. Our troops had retired from
+Missy during the day and we were left all alone in
+front of the Germans and quite at the mercy of their
+guns. The <i>via dolorosa</i> of our sorely wounded was
+on this night a very pitiable one. Exposed to rain,
+lying in the utmost discomfort, compelled to keep for
+hours a cramped position, they deserved our pity.
+The wounded men who had to march were also in a
+sorry plight. These poor fellows were not fit to march;
+weak with shock, pain, and loss of blood, they ought
+all to have been in bed; yet they had to march, for we
+could not leave them behind.</p>
+
+<p>At last all was ready to start. Strict orders were
+given against lights and cigarettes. No talking was
+allowed, for the Germans were just “over the way,”
+and they are people with “long ears.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span></p>
+
+<p>Before setting out we buried four officers and five
+men in a grave by the railway, near the bottom of the
+garden. This mournful duty over, the ambulance
+moved off.</p>
+
+<p>This time we anticipated no delay, as we knew
+the road—vain hope. The night was again very dark,
+and a drizzle of rain was falling. We had just emerged
+from the silent village on the road to Bucy le Long
+when the inky blackness of the night was cut through
+by the powerful beam of a searchlight played from
+the German lines. The light swept slowly up and
+down our column in a zig-zag wave once, and then a
+second time, this time more slowly still. Every detail
+was illuminated with the brilliant glare. The light
+was then fixed ominously on our front waggon, which
+had a big red cross painted on its canvas sides. The
+column kept moving slowly on, but for ten minutes
+that sinister, baleful light played all round the first
+ambulance. We all thought that our last hour had
+come—that after going through such a hellish day in
+the farmhouse at Missy we were to be finally scuppered
+on the muddy road. We knew that the Germans were
+only about 800 yards away. With strained nerves we
+waited, expecting them to turn a machine-gun on us.
+The searchlight played up and down the column once
+more and then was turned in another direction. My
+impression is that the Germans made out the red cross
+on the leading waggon and so let us pass. If they
+wished they could have destroyed us easily. We all
+breathed again and continued on our way. After passing
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>through Bucy le Long, where we again saw our soldiers,
+we came across some returning-empty motor lorries.
+We placed all our marching wounded on to these and
+eased off the pressure in the country carts by taking off
+a few men. At Venizel we were held up for five hours.
+The pontoon bridge had given way during the day
+under the weight of a piece of heavy French artillery.
+The gun had been fished out from the bottom of the
+Aisne with great difficulty, but the horses were drowned.
+The Engineers were straining every nerve to repair
+the bridge. It was vitally important to hurry, as this
+bridge was the only artery of communication between
+our advanced troops and the ammunition supplies.
+At last we got across and reached Mont de Soissons,
+our ambulance headquarters, at nine in the morning.
+The wounded were handed over to the other medical
+officers. Men and officers were completely done up.
+We had been marching during two anxious, harassing
+nights, and had lived through a bad day, but—we got
+out our wounded.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br>
+<span class="smaller">ON THE AISNE AT MONT DE SOISSONS.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Our Field Ambulance headquarters at the Château-farm
+of Mont de Soissons was occupied by us till October.
+During this time our army was fighting hard. Most of
+the days were rainy, and the trenches on the other side
+of the river suffered from this. To our right was
+Braisne on the river, and to our far right was Reims.
+To our left was Soissons—about eight miles away.
+We were about fifty-eight miles from Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Our billet was a good one. Imagine a huge hollow
+square surrounded by stone buildings, and the square
+itself filled with an enormous manure heap. One side
+of the square was taken up by the two-storied old
+stone building containing kitchen, hall, sleeping-rooms,
+and offices. Stables for sheep, cows, and
+horses formed two sides. The fourth side was a
+truly beautiful and artistic one. It was formed by
+a wonderful old chapel, and remains of what was part
+of the refectory and cellars of a monastery. These
+buildings were in a splendid state of preservation, and
+were now used to hold straw and cattle fodder. The
+chapel had been built by the Knights Templars, and was
+in its day a place of renown. It is indeed a pity that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>such historic buildings are so neglected and forgotten.
+In the lofts of the dwelling-house and in a shed outside
+we put our sick and wounded men. In a bedroom
+downstairs we put the wounded officers. We were
+principally concerned at this time in the transportation
+of sick and wounded to railhead. Although we were
+at headquarters of an ambulance, no preparation or
+effort was made for any special treatment. Very few
+of our cases remained more than twelve to twenty-four
+hours. Motor lorries arrived at Mont de Soissons
+every morning, and on these our men piled straw and
+placed the men, covering all with a huge tarpaulin
+cover raised tent fashion on upright sticks. This
+method of transporting wounded was crude and brutal.
+There were no motor ambulances at this time. The
+first motor ambulance arrived after we had been ten
+days at Mont de Soissons. Why motor ambulances
+were not with us from the beginning of the war is a
+question which the Army Medical Department will
+have to answer when the war is over, and the necessary
+public washing-day arrives.</p>
+
+<p>Several wounded men and officers died at Mont de
+Soissons and were buried in the garden alongside a
+stone wall. Wooden crosses mark each grave-head,
+and two of them have stone crosses erected and engraved
+by one of our orderlies. And the women of the
+house and neighbourhood attend to the graves, and place
+flowers on them. It is beautiful to see how reverently
+the French women look after our soldiers’ graves. The
+old lady—the owner of this farm-château—has the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>names and dates of burial of all officers and men interred
+in this garden, and the relatives of these dead
+heroes will be able one day to visit this quiet corner of a
+garden in France and will see how beautifully the
+graves have been tended by the simple, kindly French
+peasant women.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus10" style="max-width: 43.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus10.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Mont de Soissons, showing the old Templars’ Hall and Church.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Our life at this place was full of interest. In front
+of us were our own batteries, behind the ridge; then
+beyond was the river, and beyond that our advanced
+troops in the trenches. To our left, the French
+occupied Soissons. The French artillery was continually
+in action, pounding on every day <i>sans cesse</i> and
+generally also through the night, and it was excellent
+and well served; but our guns were silent most of the
+day. At eleven o’clock in the morning they would
+open up and leisurely plunge their shot across the
+valley at Fort Condé for half an hour; then remain
+silent till four or five in the evening, when another
+bombardment would commence and continue till dark.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally they seemed to wake up and become
+very angry, and on these occasions would bark and roar
+and screech for a couple of hours. The Germans never
+refused an artillery duel, and when our batteries seemed
+to wake up the Germans did too, and hurtled across
+their shot at a tremendous pace. The Germans at
+this time wasted an enormous lot of ammunition, but
+they nevertheless were extraordinarily formidable and
+effective with this arm. There was a small embankment
+outside our farmhouse, and this was a box seat
+<i>de luxe</i> every afternoon from four till half-past six
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>o’clock. On our right, stretching on to Reims, and
+on our left towards Soissons, the artillery, German,
+French, and British, was then at its best. Sometimes
+the sound would be deafening all along the line, sometimes
+it would concentrate itself in our particular
+corner. Directly opposite us, on the far side of the
+river at Fort Condé, the Germans had a very strong
+artillery position. Their guns there outranged ours at
+first, and used on fine evenings, at the usual concert
+hour, to give us some splendid exhibitions. First
+would come one shot to the right, and then one to the
+left. Then four flashes of yellow flame followed by
+huge cascades of earth would appear to strike the same
+spot, and a few seconds after the dub-dub-dub-dub
+of the explosions would reverberate and re-echo across
+the hills and valleys. They would sometimes pick out
+one particular area of ground on our front and simply
+cover every yard of it with bursting shells. At other
+times they would plant a line of shells right across a
+particular place. Again they seemed sometimes to go
+“shell mad,” and would wildly send shells to all points
+of the compass. In the darkness of an autumn night
+the bursting of the shells was a terribly magnificent
+sight. We could see our shells, and especially the French
+shells, burst over the German positions. The French
+artillery always excited our admiration. The great
+guns, the men, the rapidity of fire, the noise, and the
+terrible bursting charges were all wonderful. No
+wonder France is proud of her big guns and her splendid
+gunners.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span></p>
+
+<p>About ten o’clock in the mornings we frequently
+were surveyed by Taubes. Many of them were most
+daring. They were always pursued by our men and
+the French; and wonderful pursuits and flights were
+witnessed. Two of our aeroplanes often started
+together after a Taube. One would fly directly for the
+enemy craft, and one would circle into the upper blue
+and try to get above it. We were told that they
+used to fire at one another with carbines, but we never
+could hear the shots or see any smoke. The Taube
+always made off. Sometimes a Taube would be up
+alone, and after hovering and circling over our gun
+positions would make a sudden dash to directly above
+a battery, drop a smoke signal, and fly away; this signal
+would be rapidly followed by some German shelling.
+The greatest spectacular effect of all was to watch
+the German shots from their anti-aircraft guns bursting
+round our aeroplanes. It was like pelting a butterfly
+with snowballs. We could see the burst and flash
+long before the sound reached us. The bursts produced
+white and black smoke balls, the black one
+appearing a little higher and later than the white.
+The white smoke balls unrolled themselves into a
+curious shape, very like a big German pipe. There
+was a huge bulb and a long, curling, thick stem. We
+stood often with “our hearts in our mouths” expecting
+that one of our daring flyers had been hit. Smoke-bursts
+would appear below, above, and round the craft, and
+then one shot would seem to actually hit it. But no;
+a minute afterwards we could make out the little
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>machine flying higher or emerging swaggeringly from
+the midst. We watched our own bursts round a Taube
+with a different spirit, waiting eagerly for the <i>coup de
+grâce</i>, and having no humane thoughts for the daring
+pilot. One afternoon we were certain that a Taube had
+been struck, for one burst appeared to be right on, but
+when the smoke cleared away the Taube was still
+going merrily. Then it began to slowly descend, then
+ascend again, and then suddenly plane away to our
+right. From the last shot she really had “got it in the
+neck,” as Tommy Atkins puts it, and the machine
+plunged down behind the French lines. The pilot was
+killed, the observer got a fractured spine, and was
+dragged out of the wreckage—paralysed.</p>
+
+<p>On the 19th September, orders from General French
+were read out congratulating the British troops upon
+their valour and tenacity at the Marne, and commending
+their courage on the Aisne. We were assured that by
+holding on to our present positions the enemy would
+be forced to retire.</p>
+
+<p>On one Sunday, service was conducted by Monsignor,
+our Catholic chaplain, for Catholic soldiers, in one of
+the stable lofts at the farm. The preacher and the
+men had to climb up a ladder placed on the outside of
+the building, and get into the loft through a small door.
+The ladder was a crazy affair, but Monsignor tested it
+by going up first. He was a light-weight and very
+active, but a burly Falstaffian sergeant looked very
+hesitatingly at it, and it certainly creaked and bent
+considerably as he slowly mounted. The loft was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>packed with men, and we heard afterwards that the
+floor was not meant for a heavy weight. We were
+relieved to learn that there were no casualties at the
+service, and that Monsignor and his flock had not
+gone through the floor and startled the horses underneath.</p>
+
+<p>I spent one forenoon in an advanced artillery
+observation post, and tried to make out the German
+positions through a telescope. We could make out
+some white waggons moving on a road far off, but they
+were out of range. The observation officer got to his
+post by walking up a cutting and then crawling into a
+hole, and there he stood for hour after hour patiently
+watching the other lines, while his sergeant sat close by,
+well concealed, and with a telephone receiver over his
+head. Any observations of importance were ’phoned
+back to the battery. These observation posts were
+dangerous “spots,” for they were well within the reach
+of enemy shells and afforded very little cover. The
+observation officer here was an enthusiast, and I think
+he was familiar with the outline of every tree and rock
+on the other side. It requires some practice to be
+really expert with a telescope. General officers
+occasionally came up to talk to our observer and peer
+at the opposite ridge. I met this artillery observation
+officer later on in the north of France, and this time he
+was a patient in hospital with a scalp wound. He
+had been in a house well in advance of our own advanced
+line, and had made a small hole in the roof through
+which he obtained a good view of the enemy dispositions,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>and directed the fire of his battery. The German
+is a wily man, and evidently did not like the position
+of this house, for he shelled it out of existence. I was
+glad that the major got out with nothing more than a
+scalp wound, for good artillerists are worth much to our
+army to-day. Our artillery officers seem to enjoy war
+more than any other branch of the service. This major
+told me that one day his own and a French battery
+got fairly on to a German battery that had done considerable
+damage. The Allied guns destroyed the
+Germans, and the French were frantically delighted,
+their colonel coming over and warmly embracing
+Major X—— and kissing him on both cheeks. We told
+the major that he was a certain starter for the Legion
+of Honour. The major was a happy man when he was
+standing in a hole, or peering round a piece of rock,
+telescope to eye, and a sergeant lying near him with a
+telephone receiver strapped on his head.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon on the Aisne we heard that the
+Norfolks, who were in the trenches on our front, were
+hugely delighted. They had just killed a sniper. This
+particular sniper had become notorious, for he was a
+dead shot and had hit many of the Norfolk boys.
+Owing to the vigilance of this particular sniper they
+could not get hot tea into the trenches, and several of
+the Norfolk “Bisleys” were keenly anxious to bag
+him. One day a tree was observed to rustle after a
+sniping shot, and at once the Norfolks sent a hail of
+bullets into that particular tree. This brought the man
+down, for winged by Norfolk bullets the arboreal
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>Prussian fell out of the branches like a ripe acorn,
+amidst the cheers of the men in the trenches.</p>
+
+<p>It was said that these snipers on the Aisne belonged
+to the Forest Guards, who were rangers in the Imperial
+forests of Eastern Prussia, and were dead shots,
+accustomed all their lives to shoot wild pigs and
+wolves. They were highly unpopular amongst our
+men.</p>
+
+<p>Sniping is quite in accordance with the rules of
+war, but the soldiers feel that sniping as the Germans
+play it is not “cricket.” They naturally feel very
+angry with a sniper who gets up a haystack with some
+provisions and ammunition, and after having eaten all
+his food and fired off all his cartridges calmly emerges
+and surrenders.</p>
+
+<p>Our men are extraordinarily good to wounded
+Germans and to prisoners, but these sniping sneaks stir
+their venom and ire. I saw one of these surrendered
+uninjured snipers at Ypres meet with savage scowls and
+epithets from some men of a company whose officer
+had been killed by him that morning.</p>
+
+<p>About the last week of September I brought over
+some motor ambulances full of sick men to Braisne.
+This charming little town, situated on the Aisne and on
+the Marne Canal, was full of ambulances and clearing
+hospitals. Every house almost had a red-cross flag up,
+for the place was crammed with sick and wounded, and
+the clearing hospitals had been very busy with the big
+casualties. Three doctors had been killed a few days
+previously at Vailly when in action with their regiments,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>and another doctor had died the next day after having
+had his leg amputated for a bad shell wound. He was
+awarded the V.C., but did not live to enjoy that signal
+honour and distinction.</p>
+
+<p>The clearing hospitals and ambulances were sending
+large numbers of sick soldiers down to the base <i>en
+route</i> for England—mostly cases of dysentery, lumbago,
+and rheumatism. Many of these men looked bad
+wrecks, and no wonder, when one remembers the
+rapid, arduous retreat from Mons and Le Cateau in
+the broiling summer heat, followed by the hard fighting
+and marching in the rain from the Marne to the
+Aisne, and how this was succeeded by the hardships,
+miseries, and discomforts in the wet sodden trenches
+at a time when it was impossible to give them hot
+cooked food and sufficient warmth. More men were
+wanted, and until they arrived the few had to do the
+work of many. The 5th Division had been promised
+a rest in reserve to recuperate, but not a man could be
+spared from the line we were so hardly holding, and so
+they simply had to “plug on,” and, as cheerfully as they
+could, sing “It’s a long, long way to Tipperary”; but
+they did not sing much at this time.</p>
+
+<p>While we were at Mont de Soissons and a week after
+the arrival of our first red-cross motor ambulances,
+we were given instructions to look out for a mysterious
+red-cross motor-car driven by an officer in khaki who
+had a beard and wore a red-cross brassard on his
+arm. This car seemed to be very busy and was constantly
+travelling up and down the roads and always
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>at high speed—too high a speed to be challenged.
+Sitting at the front of the car and next the driver
+was a nurse, dressed in nurse’s uniform, wearing a white
+cap, and also with a red-cross brassard on the left arm.
+We smelt something fishy about it all. Firstly, none
+of our medical officers wore beards; secondly, medical
+officers did not drive motor ambulances about; thirdly,
+there were no nurses with us. Nurses are not allowed
+in the fighting line. We watched for this car always,
+and always wondered what we would do if we did
+sight it, for none of us had arms, and this villain with
+the beard would be sure to have a loaded six-shooter
+near at hand. Two days after our warning the car was
+spotted by a sentry, who challenged, but the driver went
+furiously past him. He was not out of the bush though,
+for a barricade had been erected half-way across the
+road at a very sharp turn, and to get round this the car
+had to slow down to “dead slow.” A British sentry
+was here, and other soldiers were standing not far away.
+The bearded driver was ordered to stop and get out
+under cover of the sentry’s rifle. The guard came up
+and the two motorists were arrested.</p>
+
+<p>The man with the beard was a German spy right
+through, and he was handed over to the French, who
+shot him at daybreak next day. They say he died
+very gamely.</p>
+
+<p>The “nurse” who sat beside him was not shot. We
+were told that “she” was really a man, a dapper little
+German waiter who had been on the staff of a leading
+hotel in Paris for some years. I saw the man with the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>beard shortly after he was arrested. He looked quiet
+and scholarly and somewhat meek, but “still waters
+run deep.”</p>
+
+<p>At 4 a.m. on the 27th of September we were all
+“turned out” by our O.C., who had just received urgent
+orders to be prepared to leave Mont de Soissons as the
+Germans “were over the river.” After standing by for
+two hours we got word that it was a false alarm. Something
+had been irritating the Germans this morning,
+for at daybreak they opened a furious fire on our
+positions. As far as we knew it wasn’t the Kaiser’s
+birthday or the anniversary of any prehistoric German
+victory, so we put it down to nerves. Their gunners
+made a dead set on a field in our front just behind the
+ridge along the Aisne. Hundreds of Black Marias and
+shrapnel were sent on to that unlucky piece of ground,
+and it was wonderful to see the shot-ridden earth sent
+up in huge volcanic bursts. The enemy thought that
+we had a battery there, but we hadn’t one nearer than
+half a mile, hence our enjoyment of the spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>On the afternoon of this day we heard that Mr.
+Winston Churchill was with us and was dining with the
+Scots Greys. At least that was the rumour, but we
+hardly believed anything we heard out here. He was
+reported to have said that the war would last another
+eighteen months. This piece of information, following
+on an early morning’s alarm and in cold wet weather,
+was distinctly cheering! However, as a kind of set-off,
+in the late afternoon we heard that the Crown Prince
+had been buried again, this time in the Argonne,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>and that it had been authentically established that
+he was quite dead before having been buried. We were
+glad to know this, because on the other occasions when
+he had been buried, he had not really been quite dead.</p>
+
+<p>We were at this period suffering from the effects
+of a dislocated postal system. I had not yet received
+any letters from England, and did not know if mine had
+reached there. We were all anxious to get the London
+papers to “see how we were getting on at the front.”
+We knew what was going on around us, but knew nothing
+more. One medical officer returned from Braisne, told
+us that he had heard a great rumour there. We were
+all agog to hear it. After whetting our appetites he
+gravely told us that a Padre had informed him that,
+“All Europe was in the melting pot and the devil was
+stirring the broth.” This officer was duly punished by
+having his rum ration cut off.</p>
+
+<p>One day on the Aisne I was an interested listener
+to a discussion between two British officers and three
+French officers on national characteristics, and this led
+up to a review of the way that the British, French,
+and German charge with the bayonet.</p>
+
+<p>The French charge magnificently with the bayonet,
+but they charge in a state of tremendous excitement.
+When rushing across an open space to the enemy they
+shout and scream with excitement, “France!” “A
+bas les Boches!” “En avant!” They are uplifted
+with the wild ecstasy of the onfall. Men fall in the mad
+rush never to rise again. <i>N’importe</i>—all is unnoticed,
+on they go, an impetuous and irresistible avalanche
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>of steel, yelling, stabbing, slaying, overwhelming.
+They are superb, these Frenchmen. I have seen them
+charge, and know from what I saw the splendid fellows
+they are. In the Argonne, on the Aisne, and in Flanders,
+the French soldier has carried out as resolute and daring
+bayonet charges as ever his fathers did under Napoleon,
+when they stormed the bridge at Lodi, swept over the
+field of Marengo, and hacked their bloody path at
+Austerlitz.</p>
+
+<p>The British charge stoically and more grimly.
+They do not shout. I have heard them cursing. The
+British line advances as a sinister cold line of steel,
+in a sort of jog-trot. It is a line of cool-brained
+gladiators, alert of eye and thoroughly bent on slaughter.
+Our Briton sees his foe, and smites savagely with the
+calculating judgment of a good Rugby forward and
+with the bound of a wild cat. The disciplined valour
+and the savage relentlessness of the British bayonet
+attack has been heralded in story from Malplaquet to
+Waterloo, from Badajos to Inkermann, and historians
+will chronicle the undying glory of the 7th Division
+at Ypres when with rifle and bayonet it held the gate
+to Calais.</p>
+
+<p>The German, in spite of what is often said to the
+contrary, is a brave and determined man with the
+bayonet. The German discipline is undoubted. It is
+a part of the people. It is the fibre of the nation.
+Discipline, subjection to authority, has not to be
+taught to this people; it is absorbed into their very
+being. The discipline of mind and body as we
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>understand it is not the discipline of the German,
+for his is an obedience to authority only,—a “go”
+when ordered to “go,” a “come” when ordered to
+“come.” But it is also a <span class="allsmcap">DIE</span> when ordered to face
+certain death. Men with whom this discipline is a
+message may not make saints or pleasant companions,
+but do make sturdy foes and stubborn fighters.</p>
+
+<p>They charge well, advancing with a stooping, jerky
+trot, uttering hoarse guttural cries and “Hurrahs.” On
+they come, in solid masses shoulder to shoulder, hoping
+by the weight and speed of the dense columns to get a
+momentum that nothing can withstand. When in a
+solid compact phalanx this German charge is very
+dangerous and formidable, and has been able, although
+at a frightful cost, to brush aside and overwhelm
+veteran British and French troops.</p>
+
+<p>But if this compact line and solid column is broken,
+as it so often is to-day by shrapnel, rifle, or machine-gun
+fire, the sense of cohesion or “shoulder to shoulder”
+support is lost, and the heavy column is then no match
+for the lightning bayonet onfall of the French infantry
+or the weighty heave forward of a British regiment.
+The German infantryman is not an “individual”
+fighter, but he is nevertheless a brave soldier, and knows
+how to meet death. All three peoples have a great
+respect for each other when it comes to close quarters
+and take no chances.</p>
+
+<p>A curious feature of French bayonet charges was
+told me by a French officer. He said that if the daily
+dispatches were read carefully it would be noticed that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>the Germans, when they attacked the French, generally
+made them vacate the first trench, but that the French
+always counter-attacked, retook their own, and carried
+the charge on into the German lines. He said that
+the Frenchmen are very easily surprised and are only
+at their best when they know what they are up against
+and what they have to do. They also require at times
+to be worked up to the “fire” of the business, and that
+this was specially true of younger troops. The officers
+know this, and when their men fall back from the front
+trench, they get them together, tell them that they
+must go forward again,—that France is watching them,
+that the cursed German has his foot in beautiful
+France, that the sons of the men of Jena and Wagram
+must still show their metal; then drawing his sword,
+and with “En avant, mes enfants,” the officer leads
+forward, followed by his cheering men, and they are at
+these times irresistible.</p>
+
+<p>There is a story told at the front of a famous
+Scottish regiment whose deeds have won admiration in
+nearly every battle in English history, which occupied
+some advanced trenches. The Germans rushed them
+in overwhelming numbers and drove them out with
+the bayonet. Another regiment, composed almost
+entirely of little Cockneys, was called up in support,
+and gallantly rushing forward drove out the Germans
+and took many prisoners. They then told the brawny
+Scotchmen that they could go back to their trenches
+again and if they felt anxious at any time the M——
+boys from London would be only too pleased to come
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>back and comfort them. Some weeks afterwards the
+Kilties helped the Cockneys out of a hot corner, so the
+odds are now even.</p>
+
+<p>Talking of bayonet charges leads up to bayonet
+wounds. It is a curious fact, well noted amongst
+surgeons at the front, that there are very few bayonet
+wounds to treat. Yet bayonet charges are constantly
+taking place, and very bloody mêlées they are.</p>
+
+<p>Where are these men who have been speared by
+the bayonet? The majority are dead, for the bayonet
+when it gets home is a lethal weapon. When it pierces
+the chest or abdomen it, as a rule, reaches a big
+artery; a rapid hæmorrhage follows, and death comes
+speedily.</p>
+
+<p>The majority of bayonet wounds are in the chest
+and abdomen, and ghastly terrible wounds they are.
+After the Bavarians and Prussians were hurled back
+at Ypres and La Bassée there were comparatively
+few bayonet wounds. Amongst the vast number of
+wounded men in the Clearing Hospital at Bethune I
+had personally to treat only one or two cases of bayonet
+wounds. These were, as a rule, simple flesh wounds,
+and were the lucky exceptions amongst the bayonet
+victims.</p>
+
+<p>This feature about bayonet wounds was also noted by
+Larrey, the surgeon-in-chief to Napoleon during the
+great Continental wars, by M’Grigor, surgeon-in-chief
+to Wellington in the Peninsula, and by surgical observers
+at a later period during the Crimean War. A
+war correspondent in the Crimea wrote that a man
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>who has been bayoneted dies in great pain, that his
+body and limbs are twisted and contorted by the last
+agonised movements preceding death. This belief is
+fallacious. Men who die speedily from a sudden loss
+of blood die easily and quietly. They go to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The German bayonet is longer, broader, and heavier
+than that of the Allies. The French bayonet is not a
+blade, but is shaped like a spear or stiletto. The British
+bayonet is a blade, short and light. It is not, however,
+the blade or the stiletto, it is the man behind that
+counts.</p>
+
+<p>I mentioned before that our sick and wounded were
+housed in a loft of the farm-château of Mont de Soissons
+and in a shed outside. This shed or lean-to was a most
+uninviting place for the sick. One side was formed by
+a stone wall, from the top of that a roof projected, and
+this roof was held up by wooden pillars. There was no
+floor and there were no other walls. It was quite open
+to every wind that blew, except for the protection of the
+stone wall and the roof. Straw was laid on the ground
+of this lean-to and this straw, owing to the constant
+rain and the very muddy, filthy state of the roads and
+yards round about, got very sodden at times. New
+straw was then put on top of this old straw—that was
+all. It wasn’t very much, truly. Yet badly wounded
+men were brought in in large numbers from the trenches
+and kept lying on this sodden straw for hours, and in
+some cases for a whole day and night. If the wounded
+man arrived after eleven o’clock in the morning he had
+to put up with a night on the straw in this lean-to. If
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>the man was sick from one of the usual diseases prevalent
+at this time—lumbago, rheumatism, and sciatica—he
+was led up to the loft in the main house. If he had a
+slight wound he was also led up to this place, but if he
+had a compound fracture or an abdominal injury it was
+necessary to carry him up on a stretcher, and the stair
+up to the loft was so narrow that the task was an
+extremely difficult one, and full of pain and misery
+to the patient. The loft was a draughty hole and not
+fit to accommodate a sick mountain goat. But it was a
+Buckingham Palace to the Whitechapel lean-to on the
+stone wall outside. Yet on this dirty sodden straw I
+have dressed foul, septic compound fractures, have
+elevated a fragment of loose bone pressing on a man’s
+brain, and have stood by men dying from gas gangrene,
+and from pneumonia due to exposure from lying out
+in the rain and cold after having been wounded. And
+every time I saw men lying out in that open shed I
+have asked, “Why have we not motor ambulances at
+the front?” Every morning empty lorries returning
+from distributing their supplies at the front called in at
+Mont de Soissons and took our wounded down to railhead;
+and this method of transportation of the wounded
+was one of the horrors of war. Our wounded and sick
+did not arrive according to any time-table, and if they
+arrived at midday or in the afternoon or evening, they
+had, willy-nilly, to be accommodated at the château-farm,
+and the only accommodation we could offer was
+the windy, inhospitable loft or the straw-covered lean-to
+outside. If we had had motor ambulances all of this
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>would have been avoided. Then the patients would
+not have had to be sent to our headquarters at all, but
+could have been carried to railhead at once. Why did
+we not have motor ambulances at the outset of war?
+God knows. Had anyone asked me five years ago what
+was the best way of transporting a wounded or sick man
+with an army in the field, I would have answered at
+once, “By motor ambulance, of course.”</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus11" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus11.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Loading wounded at Soissons. The first motor
+    ambulance on the Aisne.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus12" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus12.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">The lean-to at Soissons. Unloading wounded.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>If a man is wounded in the streets of London or any
+other city in the civilised world he is conveyed to the
+nearest hospital by an ambulance motor-car. When the
+Army Service Corps had to arrange its transport for this
+war, they naturally thought of nothing else than motor
+traction. Yet in spite of the lessons of army manœuvres
+in this country, and of the dictates of reason, our Army
+Medical Department sent Field Ambulances to the front
+with the old horse-ambulance of the days of Napoleon
+and Wellington, and did not have a solitary motor
+ambulance where they were so vitally necessary. The
+position was so odd and incomprehensible that I wrote
+about it to Lord ——, who, I knew, would look at the
+matter from the view-point of common sense and
+humanity. Lord —— has a great name in the Empire,
+and has been one of the best and ablest of governors of
+one of our Dominions beyond the seas. I knew that if
+I wrote to him, and he chose to act as I was sure he would,
+something would occur. I did not, owing to army postal
+delays, get his answer till long after, and it was worded
+as follows (allowing for considerable deletions of some
+parts of it, and for names):</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">My Dear Martin</span>,—I received your letter in
+London on Wednesday night. Within half an hour
+of its arrival I hunted up Mr. ——. I found him in a
+state of great indignation because of the obstacles put
+in the way of —— giving the assistance they desire to
+the wounded at the Front. I understand, however,
+that sixty motor ambulances will be ready on Wednesday
+next, and that further ambulances will be provided
+later. Your letter has been read by Lord Kitchener.
+It arrived at an opportune moment, when the great want
+of motor ambulances at the Front was being realised
+here. I hope that even before you receive this letter
+the scandal which makes you so righteously indignant
+may have been removed and that proper arrangements
+are now in successful operation for the treatment of the
+wounded.</p>
+
+<p>“Please let me hear from you from time to time how
+things are going, and always remember that I shall
+be more than pleased if I can give you the slightest
+assistance in getting those things done which you may
+think necessary.—Believe me, yours sincerely,</p>
+
+<p class="right">“——.”</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Shortly after this, motor ambulances appeared,
+and the position eased, to the infinite and lasting benefit
+of our wounded officers and men. I still, however, often
+wonder why motor ambulances were not landed in
+France with the other motor vehicles when our Expeditionary
+Army disembarked. Many lives would have
+been saved, and much suffering would have been
+avoided.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">FIELD AMBULANCES AND MILITARY HOSPITALS.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The military medical unit known as a Field Ambulance
+deserves some description.</p>
+
+<p>The Field Ambulances are officially designated as
+Divisional Troops under the command of the Assistant
+Director of Medical Services. A Field Ambulance
+consists of three sections, known as A, B, and C sections,
+and each of these sections is divided into a “bearer”
+and a “tent” subdivision.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>personnel</i> consists of a commanding officer,
+generally a major or a lieutenant-colonel of the
+Royal Army Medical Corps, who is always in one of
+the tent subdivisions, and of nine other medical officers
+and a quartermaster, generally an honorary lieutenant
+or captain, of the R.A.M.C. In addition there are 242
+of other ranks, bearers, orderlies, cooks, Army Service
+Corps drivers, officers’ servants, dispensers, clerks,
+washermen, etc. The <i>personnel</i> is fairly evenly divided
+amongst the three sections, so that on occasion a
+section of a Field Ambulance can carry on a limited
+but complete service. As will be seen later on at
+Bethune, one section of our ambulance did this, and
+for a time acted as a Clearing Hospital and passed
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>thousands of wounded through its hands. B and C
+sections have three four-horsed ambulance waggons,
+and A section has four, making a total of ten waggons
+for the transport of wounded. The other transport
+of a Field Ambulance consists of six general service
+waggons, three medical store carts, three water carts,
+a cooks’ cart, and an extra cart for odd jobs. The
+drivers and grooms have about one hundred horses
+to look after.</p>
+
+<p>The Field Ambulance carries a complete hospital
+emergency equipment. Theoretically, if necessary a
+serious abdominal operation, a trephining operation,
+or an amputation could be carried out at an ambulance
+station by skilled surgeons surrounded by the latest
+and best of surgical instruments and in antiseptic
+surroundings. I said theoretically, but as a matter of
+fact such a state of affairs is not achieved, and the
+surgery performed at Field Ambulance stations is
+crude and temporary.</p>
+
+<p>A Field Ambulance station is a first-aid station, and
+surgery is avoided as much as possible. The equipment
+of our Field Ambulance to-day leaves very much to
+be desired, and I earnestly hope that during this war
+the whole organisation will be thoroughly reviewed,
+reorganised, and remodelled, and that there will be
+evolved a medical unit more in consonance with the
+modern conceptions of good clean surgery. The Field
+Ambulance should receive the wounded from the
+Brigade which it serves, and as long as it holds these
+wounded it should be able to give them the very best
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>surgical and medical help. It must send the wounded
+as speedily as possible to the hospitals and stations
+in the rear, and keep the fighting line, of which it
+is really a part, as clear of wounded as possible. It
+must conform to the demands of the military situation;
+for after all war is war, and the purpose of a war is to
+beat the enemy with sound troops and get the wounded
+out of the way. A Field Ambulance can do all this
+and must do all this, and yet it need not be too obsessed
+with the idea that immediately a badly wounded man
+is brought in he must necessarily be bundled off to the
+base, irrespective of the nature or magnitude of his
+wounds. The future of very many battlefield injuries
+depends on the first treatment received, and a
+skilled surgeon surrounded with familiar tools and
+appliances to ensure absolute cleanliness can be a god of
+mercy and confer health and power on many a stricken
+man. A blundering, incompetent amateur, lacking the
+divine essence of knowing his own imperfections and
+courageously taking responsibilities which are sky-high
+above him, can inflict a lifelong wrong and deprive
+a man of his power to earn his livelihood in the future.
+The cautious and conservative surgeon is ever the
+boldest when boldness means success. In every Field
+Ambulance in this war and in future wars, let us see
+to it that we have a cautious and conservative surgeon.</p>
+
+<p>The medical officer is not as a rule a good horse
+master. From my experience (and I am speaking
+both from what I saw in the South African War and
+in this war), the medical officer is a very indifferent
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>horse master. He will do his best, as he always does
+in all circumstances; but it is clearly unfair to ask a
+doctor, who knows as much about horses as a monk
+does about antelopes, to take charge of a unit comprising
+about one hundred horses, sixteen four-horsed
+waggons, and seven or eight two-horsed carts, Army
+Service Corps drivers, and a miscellaneous lot of grooms.
+I have seen an amiable and competent Army Medical
+officer dismayed when he was compelled, owing to
+some duty, to get on a horse’s back, and the horse
+seemed to know and enjoy it, for, usually a docile,
+mild-eyed beast, he at these times became exceedingly
+sportive. Yet this officer may have, owing to his rank,
+to assume charge later of a hundred horses and a lot
+of waggons. A shoemaker should stick to his last,
+and a doctor is only at home with his own professional
+work.</p>
+
+<p>The remedy is to put Field Ambulances under
+trained officers of the Army Service Corps. They are
+experts in the management of convoys and transports,
+and could manage the field work of an ambulance to
+the infinite satisfaction of everybody. Leave the
+doctors to the purely professional work. There is
+enough of that to be done. Doctors are too valuable
+as doctors to spare them for work which A.S.C. subalterns
+and young captains can perform. The arranging
+of advanced dressing stations, the choosing
+of buildings as hospital sites, can be done by the A.D.M.S.
+of the division, and the purely workman’s part of the
+job can be done by the A.S.C. officer and his men.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span></p>
+
+<p>The transportation of wounded from the fighting
+line has been extraordinarily well carried out by the
+Royal Army Medical Corps and the Red Cross since
+our army took up its present fighting line in France and
+Flanders. During the great retreat the transportation
+was ineffective, and there is no doubt at all that many
+of our wounded who had to be left behind could have
+been rescued if we had had motor ambulance convoys
+as we have to-day.</p>
+
+<p>On the Marne, and for the first week on the Aisne, the
+transport of the wounded to the base was most imperfect.
+Who is to blame for this is a matter that will
+have to be thrashed out when the piping days of peace
+arrive, and we have time once again to put our house
+in order and profit by the lessons of the war. The only
+means of transport previous to the arrival of the
+motor ambulances was by transport lorries belonging
+to the Army Service Corps. These waggons brought
+provisions and supplies to the front, and on returning
+empty had to call at the various ambulance stations.
+Straw was laid on the floors of these lorries, and the
+wounded were packed tightly on the straw. This
+method of transportation for a man suffering from
+pneumonia or compound fracture, a chest wound or a
+wound in the abdomen, was a terrible ordeal, and undoubtedly
+added intense suffering, misery, and discomfort
+to our badly stricken soldiers. Things improved
+directly on the advent of the comfortable,
+well-sprung motor ambulance. From the firing line
+to the horsed or motor ambulance the man is carried
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>on a stretcher by hand, but all future transportation is
+by motor ambulance, train, river-barge, and steamer.</p>
+
+<p>When a man is wounded at the front he is brought
+in by regimental bearers to the dressing station of the
+medical officer of the battalion. This is generally either
+a “dug-out” or is situated in a cottage a little way back
+or sometimes behind a stone wall or near a clump of
+trees. Here the regimental doctor simply dresses the
+wound, as cleanly as possible under the circumstances,
+stops all bleeding and applies rough splints to fractured
+limbs, and administers morphia if there is much pain.
+These regimental aid posts are dangerous places well
+within shell fire, and the wounded are got out of them
+as quickly as possible, and generally at night. They
+are carried on stretchers to the ambulance waggons—horse
+or motor—which are drawn up on some point
+of a road, or sometimes in a village farther back. From
+here the wounded man is conveyed to the headquarters
+of the ambulance in a village or château or church,
+and his wounds are again dressed, if necessary, but as
+little handling as possible is done, although the soldier
+thinks that his wounds should be frequently dressed.
+At the ambulance headquarters urgent operations, often
+of a serious character, have sometimes to be carried
+out, but no operation is done if the case will permit of
+safe transportation farther back. The next rest-house
+for the wounded man is the Clearing Hospital or Casualty
+Clearing Station, and through this pass the wounded of
+many ambulances. Many wounded are brought direct
+from the trenches to a Casualty Clearing Hospital without
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>calling at all at the ambulance headquarters.
+All urgent operations are performed at the Casualty
+Clearing Station, and this station should be thoroughly
+well equipped in staff and <i>personnel</i> as well as with all
+the modern appurtenances so necessary for the safe
+performance of intricate and dangerous surgical
+operations.</p>
+
+<p>For obvious reasons the Clearing Hospital or
+Casualty Clearing Station could not fulfil its destiny
+during the retreat of our army from Belgium to the
+east of Paris. If the army is retreating, the Clearing
+Hospital must go. It is part of the line of communications
+and would impede and cumber the fighting
+divisions as they fall back. If full of wounded at this
+time, it would of course be captured by the advancing
+enemy, as the Clearing Hospital has no transport of its
+own, and depends on the regular transport department
+of the army. There ought to be a transport attached
+to a Clearing Hospital and solely under the control of
+the commanding officer, and it would be of great
+advantage to have the whole Clearing Hospital under
+the command of an Army Service Corps officer of
+experience, a man accustomed to the transportation
+of supplies and to commanding drivers of vehicles
+and mechanics. To put a Clearing Hospital under the
+command of a doctor as is now done is as absurd as it
+would be to place a large civil hospital under the
+control of a doctor.</p>
+
+<p>Our civil hospitals are governed by Boards and a
+Secretary who has the whole administration at his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>finger-ends. The medical staff do not control or govern
+a civil hospital. They are busy enough in their own
+sphere, which is a purely professional one—the treatment
+and cure of the sick inmates. So with the Clearing
+Hospitals, the Army Service Corps officer should be
+in charge of the hospital, and the purely professional
+part of the hospital, the treatment of the wounded,
+should be entirely and absolutely under the control
+of the medical staff, and completely outside the range
+of action of the administrative chief. The evacuation
+of the wounded from the Clearing Hospital to the
+hospital train and Base could be controlled also by the
+administrative lay head of the hospital, and all that
+the medical officers would be concerned with would be
+the cases suitable to evacuate and when they should
+be evacuated. There would at first be considerable
+opposition to this course by the regular Army Medical
+Corps, but they could not advance any cogent arguments
+against the devolution of administrative authority
+from them to the Army Service Corps.</p>
+
+<p>The Royal Army Medical Corps is, or should be,
+a professional body of men. Anything that impairs
+their professional efficiency is bad. The control of
+Field Ambulances and Clearing Hospitals is not a
+professional man’s <i>métier</i>, and he does not shine in this
+position. Too much military control or command
+changes the army medical officer from a doctor to a
+military officer, and this change is not to be desired.</p>
+
+<p>In civil life the more experienced a doctor is, the
+bigger becomes his practice and the wider becomes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>his sphere of professional usefulness. In military life,
+experience means promotion to higher rank, and the
+higher the rank the less the professional work and the
+more the administrative work.</p>
+
+<p>In war time, as witness South Africa and this present
+war, civil surgeons have to be called in large numbers
+to undertake important surgical work. The experience
+of medical officers of the army in peace is professionally
+a poor one. They are rarely called upon to perform
+serious surgical operations, for a man requiring an
+important surgical operation is no longer of use as a
+soldier, and is invalided out of the army. This man
+then necessarily comes under the civilian surgeon, who
+sets about to cure him, if possible, of his affliction. An
+urgent appendix operation, a rupture, the removal of a
+loose cartilage in a knee joint and varicose veins in their
+various manifestations—these, roughly speaking, compose
+the experience in surgery of the army doctor in
+times of peace.</p>
+
+<p>In advanced and intricate surgery in the abdomen
+he gets no practice, and yet it is just the experience
+gained in this branch of surgery that is so vitally
+important to surgeons at the front to-day.</p>
+
+<p>A surgeon at the front should be a man of ripe
+judgment and a good operator. He should know when
+to operate, and what is equally important, when not to
+operate. He should know whether a wounded man
+should be operated upon at once without exposing
+him to the risk of further transportation, or whether he
+could be transported to a Base Hospital without endangering
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>his safety. And if the case demands immediate
+surgery at the front, this surgeon should be
+able to undertake the operation himself. Surgeons of
+approved judgment and skill are not hard to find, and
+every Base Hospital, every stationary Hospital, every
+Casualty Clearing Hospital, every Field Ambulance
+should have one officer on its staff possessing the
+qualities and attributes mentioned. And such a distribution
+is the easiest thing in the world to effect.</p>
+
+<p>These men can be drawn from the civil side of the
+profession, as the military side, the Royal Army Medical
+Corps proper, cannot provide them.</p>
+
+<p>There are of course able surgeons in the Royal
+Army Medical Corps, men who, were they in civil
+life, would have large consulting practices and great
+reputations, but these men are few and are of that
+surgical bent which will rise superior to its military
+environment, and keeping touch with modern work,
+will absorb all that is good and new in the methods and
+technique of surgery.</p>
+
+<p>This lack of appreciation of the requirements of
+modern surgery has been evidenced in so many instances
+at the front with our Field Ambulance and Clearing
+Hospital equipment.</p>
+
+<p>One day early in the war I had a number of wounded
+men to treat, all with dirty septic wounds. The method
+of sterilising our hands was inefficient and I asked for
+rubber gloves. Rubber gloves for the hands of the
+surgeon are absolutely essential when dealing with a
+number of septic cases. After handling septic cases
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>he may be called upon at any moment to operate on
+a case requiring the strictest antisepsis or asepsis to
+give the wounded man a fighting chance of life. I asked
+a senior medical officer of the ambulance for these
+rubber gloves. Judge of my consternation and amazement
+when he said that “There were no rubber gloves
+in the ambulance equipment, and <i>he did not believe
+in the necessity for rubber gloves</i>.” When the ambulance
+was being equipped previous to leaving this country
+at the outbreak of war he could have obtained as many
+pairs of rubber gloves as he wished, but because he did
+not think them necessary, they were not obtained. He
+did not realise what war surgery would be like and had
+not been accustomed to operate on a large scale. This
+blunder on his part was inexcusable and serious, and
+the one who suffered from such a blunder was not himself
+but a wounded officer or man.</p>
+
+<p>In a Clearing Hospital in a small town in France
+to which I was temporarily attached for some days,
+again I could not obtain rubber gloves, although I
+had there to operate on profoundly septic cases, on the
+cases of appalling gas gangrene and also on recent
+wounds of knee joints, of brain, and abdomen. I
+asked for rubber gloves and was promised them. None
+came. On my own initiative I wrote to a London
+surgical supply establishment and obtained three dozen
+pairs of rubber gloves by return mail.</p>
+
+<p>Was this fair to our wounded?</p>
+
+<p>At another time I had a difficult bowel operation
+to do, and the only fine needles in stock could not be
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>used as the finest silk available there would not go
+through the eyes of the needles. The examination of
+the silk and the needles had not been carried out when
+the equipment was being put together in England. At
+this same place I had nothing strong enough to ligature
+blood-vessels at the bottom of deep septic wounds,
+except silk. The catgut was too fine and brittle to hold
+a big blood-vessel, yet any surgeon will tell you that to
+put a silk ligature on a vessel in a foul wound is very
+bad surgical technique. Yet it had to be done. Again,
+in a dangerous operation on the knee joint I could not
+get any sterilised towels nor an aneurism needle nor a
+pair of scissors. The only scissors had been lost, and
+only one aneurism needle, which had also been lost,
+was supplied in the instrument case. The patient was
+an officer who had been struck by shrapnel at the back
+of the knee, on the shoulder, and on one foot and one
+hand. He bled smartly and was admitted to this
+Clearing Hospital with a tourniquet round his thigh to
+control the bleeding temporarily. I opened up the
+wound behind the knee and secured the large bleeding
+artery and veins there, and all I had to ligature these
+vessels with was silk. There was no stout catgut, as
+there ought to have been. Also I could only get two
+sterilised towels, and these I had to boil myself. This
+was in a Clearing Hospital at the front in November
+last year. There were no gloves. There were none of
+the things round one to treat shock from which the
+officer suffered after the operation. It made one
+despair. Yet all of these things should have been at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>hand, and could have been easily obtained by the
+exercise of some forethought. No wonder the wounds
+in so many cases were at this time sent back to England
+in such a foul and septic condition. It was not the
+military authorities who were to blame. The military
+chiefs did all they could to help the medical department
+and always have done so. The fault lay at the
+door of the Royal Army Medical Corps chiefs, and after
+the war these things will again be reviewed in order to
+prevent a future repetition.</p>
+
+<p>My criticism is meant entirely for the good of our
+wounded officers and men. They deserve the best, and
+it is the duty of the Army Medical Department to give
+them of the best. It is only by pointing out defects
+that improvement can follow, and the only man who
+can point out these medical defects is a surgeon who has
+actually had to operate on wounded men in a Field
+Ambulance or in a Clearing Hospital under adverse
+surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>It is an easy matter to arrange for a modern surgical
+equipment for a Field Ambulance or a Clearing Hospital.
+Sterilisers for instruments and towels and dressings are
+not cumbrous appliances and do not take up much
+space. The surgical instrument case at present in use
+by the Royal Army Medical Corps is out of date and
+requires a complete revision and overhaul by a surgeon
+who is accustomed to operate, and not by a committee
+of senior or retired officers of the Army Medical Staff.
+The younger officers of the Royal Army Medical Corps
+and the “professional” men amongst the seniors
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>recognise the defects of the present system, but naturally
+they cannot say much. This lack of medical
+equipment and the “unreasonableness” of the medical
+department is a common subject of conversation at the
+front amongst civilian medical officers, and I have seen
+some of these men indignant beyond measure at what
+they have seen and met with.</p>
+
+<p>The Clearing Hospital, in addition to being a “rest-house”
+on the <i>via dolorosa</i> of the wounded, is also a
+sieve. It has to sift the lightly wounded from the
+seriously wounded and the serious cases from the
+desperate cases. In this process of sifting a large collection
+of wounded men, it discriminates between those
+who are fit to be sent to the Base and those who must
+remain for a longer or a shorter period. Many claim
+that the Clearing Hospital is not a hospital <i>per se</i> but
+holds a purely administrative position. I feel sure that
+it will become more and more a hospital as time goes
+on, and that its present surgical and medical equipment
+will necessarily undergo a complete reorganisation.
+To-day its equipment is little more than that
+of a Field Ambulance. It is not equipped to deal with
+extensive and serious operations, and yet serious operations
+have been performed and will necessarily continue
+to be performed at the Clearing Hospital.</p>
+
+<p>There is no shadow of doubt that many of the men
+operated upon at Bethune in the Hôpital Civil et Militaire
+later on in the war owe their recovery in a very
+large measure to the excellence of the complete sterilising
+equipment and cleanly surroundings. No trouble
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>can be too great and no expense should be spared to
+make the surgical stations at the front up to date in
+all that makes for surgical cleanliness.</p>
+
+<p>It is even more necessary to have the skilled surgeon
+at the front than at the Base, but we have any amount
+of skilled surgeons for both places. A skilled operating
+man of experience should not be attached to a regiment
+as regimental surgeon while a recently qualified man is
+deputed to blood his ’prentice hand at a major operation
+in a Clearing Hospital. Yet this has been done, and I
+know of an instance where a recently qualified man performed
+his first trephining operation on a soldier with
+a bad head injury whilst a few miles away there
+was an experienced operator engaged solely in first-aid
+work as regimental surgeon.</p>
+
+<p>I was told by a senior officer of the R.A.M.C.
+that in the city of X—— before the war he had as
+assistant in his military operating room a very clever
+young R.A.M.C. orderly. This man was well trained
+in the sterilisation of instruments and dressings and
+in the preparation of a room for operations. When the
+ambulance was mobilised in this city on the outbreak
+of war the medical officer applied for this man, who
+would have been invaluable, to be appointed to the
+tent section of the Field Ambulance. Here the training
+and knowledge of this orderly would have been of
+great service. Instead of that, the man was appointed
+to look after the water waggon of an infantry regiment
+and was killed early in the war. Any untrained man
+would have done for the water cart, but a lot of training
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>is necessary to make a good hospital room
+assistant.</p>
+
+<p>At the Clearing Hospital the wounded man meets
+for the first time the Army Nurse. This is the nearest
+point to the firing line that our nurses are allowed to go,
+but I know lots of them who are extremely anxious to
+go into the trenches. The nurse is a welcome sight to
+both officers and men, and no man nurse can adequately
+take the place of a trained woman. The presence of
+nursing sisters in a hospital is good and wholesome, and
+where they are the hospital work is carried on infinitely
+better and the patient is well looked after. R.A.M.C.
+orderlies do not like our nursing sisters. The sister
+makes the orderly work, will not allow him to smoke
+in the wards, makes him wash his hands and keep tidy.
+To the slacker, of course, these things are highly unpalatable,
+and there are many slackers about. Our
+British nursing sisters are splendid women, and work
+ungrudgingly and sympathetically always. It is good
+to see a bright-faced, white-aproned nurse amongst the
+wounded, and she is extraordinarily popular with her
+patients.</p>
+
+<p>The hospital train in France is a well-run unit. The
+accommodation for the sick and wounded is excellent,
+trained nurses accompany each train, and the medical
+arrangements are controlled by three doctors, generally
+a regular army medical officer in charge and with two
+temporary lieutenants or civil surgeons to assist him
+to do the actual professional work. No surgical or
+medical work worth mentioning is done on hospital
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>trains; they are simply means to an end—the end is
+the Base Hospital.</p>
+
+<p>The Base Hospitals in France are well-run units also.
+There are here big medical and nursing staffs, a large
+number of orderlies, and any amount of equipment.
+I was for some time Surgical Specialist at No. 6 General
+Hospital at Rouen, and this hospital was splendidly
+administered by the commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel
+——. In the Base Hospitals there are good
+operating rooms, and in fact every modern appliance
+that one could desire. It is a pity that the same care
+in administration and equipment had not been carried
+farther up and nearer our soldiers at the front.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">GOOD-BYE TO THE AISNE.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Early in October, and at night, the Ambulance again
+took the road—we turned our back on the Aisne and with
+the 2nd Army Corps began the famous move across
+the French lines of communication to the Belgian
+frontier and into Flanders. This change of position
+will be written up in the future as one of the most
+masterly episodes of the war. It was a formidable
+task to move the British Army and its supplies across
+the French lines and bring them into an entirely new
+position on the front. It had to be carried out with
+the utmost secrecy. None of us knew where we were
+going. Each day the secret orders were issued and the
+various brigades and columns carried out the indicated
+programme, while the French took up our positions
+and trenches as we retired from them. This was done
+also with great secrecy. I can imagine the perturbation
+of the Saxons and Wurtemburgers on our front on
+seeing French <i>képis</i> and uniforms where for weeks they
+had seen the khaki. The 2nd Corps moved off first.
+The 1st Corps left a week later.</p>
+
+<p>On the first night we marched through Nampteuil
+and reached Droszy about midnight. It was a beautiful
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>starlight night with a biting frost. We billeted in a
+spacious château, with plenty of cover for the ambulance
+waggons and with stables for the horses. The men slept
+in stable lofts and the officers on the floor of the marble
+hall. The hall was a beautiful room, containing some
+valuable old furniture. The walls were covered with
+relics of the chase of the days of Louis <span class="allsmcap">XIV.</span>, and old
+hunting horns, knives, and boar spears. Part of the
+château was modern, and part consisting of a wonderful
+old tower, loopholed for arrows, was evidently all that
+was left of the keep of a strong feudal castle. The
+proprietor was an old rear-admiral of the French Navy
+and he received us with the greatest courtesy; the
+Norfolks arrived an hour after us and quartered in
+a big house and yard close by. Our brigadier, Count
+Gleichen, arrived early in the morning and slept in our
+château.</p>
+
+<p>A Taube was seen approaching in the morning and
+every one was ordered to get under cover or stand stock-still.
+This Taube was evidently trying to find out
+the reason for the absence of British in the old trenches
+and the presence of the French in their place. We
+surmised correctly that the Teutonic curiosity was
+considerably aroused. A few hours afterwards another
+Taube appeared—or it may have been our first visitor—and
+flying very fast, for a French airman was in hot
+pursuit. Both soon disappeared into the upper blue,
+but we laid our odds on the Frenchman.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus13" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus13.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Château of Longpont.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus14" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus14.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Village of Longpont.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>At 6.30 that night we again got under way and had
+a magnificent night march to Longpont, arriving there at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>10.30 p.m. Longpont is a wonderful old place. The
+Château Longpont dates back to very early times
+and contains some marvellous old tapestry. It is the
+home of the Comte and Comtesse M——, and they
+were in residence at this time and entertained as
+their guests on this day General Sir Charles Ferguson
+and his staff. Sir Charles was the Commander of the
+5th Division of the 2nd Army Corps. The Comte and
+Comtesse had as guests, some weeks previously, General
+von Kluck, Commander of the right wing of the German
+Army, and had some interesting anecdotes to tell of this
+hard-fighting General and his staff.</p>
+
+<p>Abutting on the château were the famous ruins of
+the abbey of Longpont. The remains of the old
+abbey are so historic that they are known in France as
+“Les Ruines.” It was built by the Cistercian monks
+in the twelfth century, and in the adjoining priory over
+three hundred monks were accommodated in the days
+when the Church was omnipotent in France. During
+the Reign of Terror the beautiful old abbey was
+destroyed by the revolutionaries, but the massive
+character of the pillars and walls proved too much
+even for these iconoclasts, and stand to-day, clothed
+in ivy and moss, the monuments of a glorious past.
+The venerable and stately majesty of these ruins, where
+every stone seemed to speak of the grandeur of other
+days, impressed the imagination of all who gazed upon
+them.</p>
+
+<p>The day following our arrival at Longpont was a
+Sunday. Divine service was conducted at 10 a.m.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>round the old broken altar by our Church of England
+chaplain, and Sir Charles Ferguson, the Divisional
+General, read the lessons. Monsignor conducted the
+Catholic service at 11.30. Both services were largely
+attended by our own men and by French soldiers
+occupying the village. In imagination one could see
+the princely abbots and the cowled monks who, during
+a period of six hundred years, had chanted their
+litanies and passed in procession inside the beautiful
+abbey, gazing wonderingly at the simple military
+services held round the tumbled masonry of the ancient
+altar.</p>
+
+<p>After the services we spent the day wandering
+through the old-fashioned village of Longpont, examining
+its ancient gateways adorned with the crests of the
+kings of France, or strolling through the fine woods
+bordering the lake. Heavy artillery fire from the
+French batteries could be heard all the day. We
+were now right behind the French lines.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot pass from Longpont without describing
+our sleeping quarters on the night of our arrival. The
+officers of the ambulance had to sleep on the straw
+of an old stone stable. The stable looked comfortable
+and inviting, and it was not till we had crawled into
+our valises that the “fun” commenced. We had just
+lain down and blown out the candles when we felt
+curious obscure movements under our valises. Then
+a rustling of straw and a scampering of some objects
+over our beds. One doctor at once yelled out, “Good
+Lord, the place is full of rats.” He turned on his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>electric torch and immediately there was a wild scurry
+and stampede to cover of hundreds of rats. The torch
+was turned off, and after a little while the scampering
+and squeaking started again. The rats were either
+enjoying a game or were upset by our occupation of
+their stable. At one end of the stable was a feeding
+trough, and sitting in a row on the edge of the trough
+were innumerable rats. Conspicuous amongst them
+was one enormous fellow, about the size of a cat—some
+one said he was as big as a calf—with huge grey
+moustaches and very knowing eyes. This was undoubtedly
+the leader. We christened him Von Hindenberg.
+Somebody threw a bottle at him, but the cunning
+old rascal dodged it by making a tremendous leap
+into the middle of the stable and disappeared. One
+young doctor then said that he would rather sleep out
+in the open than amongst the rats, and he carried
+his valise outside. The rest of us decided to stop where
+we were, but we all pulled our blankets well over our
+heads. Our childhood horror of rats still remained,
+and we were just a little bit afraid of them—especially
+of Von Hindenberg.</p>
+
+<p>From Longpont we had a hard gruelling march of
+fifteen to eighteen miles through the night, and arrived
+at Lieux Ristaures at 6 a.m. We were stopped a
+long time on the road at the little village of Corcy by
+hundreds of motor vans, waggons, and buses containing
+French troops. We realised on this night what
+“crossing a line of communication” actually means.
+The French were hurrying up heavy reinforcements to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>strengthen a part of their front which at that moment
+was withstanding a most resolute German attack, our
+Brigade was moving as quickly as possible to another
+point of the front. The roads of the two armies crossed
+at Corcy, and of course one had to wait till the way
+was clear. It all looked very confusing and chaotic,
+but it was really very cleverly managed. Our road
+at first led through a forest, and anyone who knows
+the forests of France knows the beauty and charm of
+the tall trees. Little could be seen, however; high
+overhead one could make out a few stars, but the track
+itself was in Cimmerian darkness. About 2 a.m. we
+reached Villars Cotterets and marched through the old
+cobbled streets without a pause. This old town looked
+interesting, and one would have liked to have explored
+the birthplace of Dumas. After Villars Cotterets our
+road lay through more open country and a grey dawn
+made things clearer. We were all dog-tired with the
+long march and the constant halts; marching at night
+was more monotonous and fatiguing than day marching.</p>
+
+<p>On the way from Villars Cotterets to our next
+bivouac, Lieux Ristaures, at night time, when we were
+all feeling very done up, a most surprising rumour
+reached us. Far ahead on the long column we
+suddenly heard distant cheering which grew in intensity
+as it travelled quickly down to us preceded by a
+message shouted from one to another, “The Kaiser is
+dead. Killed yesterday morning. Pass it on.” When
+the message reached us we laughed, and did not pass
+it on. Cries came out of the darkness in front, “Pass
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>the message on. It’s official. The Kaiser’s dead.”
+So we passed it on, and the cheering travelled back
+across country to the marching men far behind. It
+cheered the men up wonderfully; they were delighted.
+It of course turned out to be a fake, cleverly engineered
+by some wags at the head of the column. Of rumours
+there was no end. The Crown Prince had been buried
+in Flanders, in the Argonne, at Soissons. But he
+always got out of his grave. We buried Von Kluck,
+Hindenburg, and Bulow, and each burial was related
+with a wealth of detail that left nothing to the imagination.
+The most accepted rumour of all, and one which
+is still believed by many, was the harrowing story of the
+Prince with the velvet mask. This story had a distinctly
+Dumas flavour, and it had a great vogue. It
+was related to me first on the Aisne by a doctor in a
+Scottish regiment, who had had it from the Colonel, who
+had received it from somebody higher up. I, of course,
+passed it on lower down the social scale, and our
+Division knew it that afternoon. The Crown Prince at
+this time was said to be living in a richly furnished
+cave opposite Reims. On dull days he would sit on a
+chair outside and order the shelling of Reims Cathedral,
+while he gazed through a powerful glass at the falling
+masonry. One day the Prussian Nero was missing
+from his cave, and the story then shifts to Strasburg,
+whither in the dead of night a wounded officer of
+apparently august rank was conveyed in a motor-car.
+Two powerful Limousines accompanied this car, one
+before and one behind, and these were full of highly
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>placed army officers. A special train with steam up
+was awaiting the arrival of the cars, and as the wounded
+officer was carried across the platform on a stretcher,
+closely surrounded by Generals, it was noticed that
+a velvet mask covered his face. The mask fell off
+as the body was lifted into the train and the Crown
+Prince’s face was exposed to view. I believe that this
+story was afterwards circulated in the French press.
+We certainly did not hear of His Imperial Highness for
+many months afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>Another rumour circumstantially related by a
+field chaplain and duly passed on with the <i>imprimatur</i>
+of the Church, was that Prince Albrecht of Prussia,
+son of the War Lord himself, had been wounded and
+taken prisoner into Antwerp by the Belgians. He
+was operated upon by Belgian surgeons in the presence
+of two German medical officers, and a bullet was extracted
+from his spine. The bullet was a Mauser—a
+German one. The Prince died and his body was
+handed back to the Germans.</p>
+
+<p>On the way to our next bivouac we also heard that
+Arras was being bombarded by the Germans and that
+they were investing Antwerp. We had quite a lot of
+war news to discuss for the remainder of our road, and
+until we pulled our waggons under the trees round an
+old mill at Lieux Ristaures. The men were billeted
+in out-houses and wood sheds belonging to the mill, and
+the officers were cordially welcomed by the hospitable
+miller and his kind-hearted womenfolk. They prepared
+coffee, bread and butter, and eggs for us, and we had the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>use of two bedrooms and a small office. A rapid mill
+race ran through the garden and under the kitchen
+floor of the house to the orchard beyond. When the
+miller’s wife wanted fresh water, all she had to do was
+to lift up a trap on the kitchen floor and dip the bucket
+into the tumbling water below. Lieux Ristaures has
+a fine old ruined church all to itself, but it is disfigured
+by some modern attempts to restore it to its ancient
+grandeur, and these attempts have spoiled completely
+the beauty of the ruins. At Lieux I received my first
+mail since leaving England. It was now October,
+and I had left England in August. This will give an
+idea of the marvellous work of our Army Post Office,
+but as no department has received such abuse as this
+one, I will spare its feelings and say no more.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus15" style="max-width: 43.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus15.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">On the road to Compiègne.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>A fine contingent of French cavalry passed by
+on this day. The men and horses looked splendid.
+The brass helmets, plumes, and cuirasses caught the
+sun’s rays, and we described the passing as a “gorgeous
+cavalcade.” The helmets and cuirasses, however, seem
+to belong to old-world armies, and look stagey amongst
+the simpler uniforms of this age.</p>
+
+<p>We stopped two nights at the quaint old farm of
+Lieux with its rushing mill race, and at three o’clock
+on the second day marched to Bethisy St. Martin, where
+we had an excellent tea at a cosy house in the town—butter,
+eggs, bread, cold beef, and pickles. We sat
+round a table with a tablecloth! our first since
+August. The good woman who prepared the meal
+made us very welcome. We slept on the floor of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span><i>Mairie</i> in the centre of the town till 5 a.m., when we
+again took the road to Santines and Verberie, passing
+near Senlis. Verberie showed many evidences of the
+Prussian sign manual—shelled houses and smashed
+walls. We reached the river Oise at 10 a.m. and
+crossed by a pontoon bridge, as the fine old stone bridge
+had been blown up; marched through Rivecourt and
+bivouacked for three hours by the wayside. It was a
+glorious morning, the going was good, and everybody
+was cheerful and looked very hard and fit. At Halte
+de Meux, where was a railway siding with troop trains,
+we received orders to embark on one of the trains for a
+destination unknown.</p>
+
+<p>The train by which we were to travel had to carry
+the Norfolk Regiment also. When the Norfolks were
+all on board we found that there was not room enough
+left for the Field Ambulance, with its ambulance
+waggons, supply waggons, horses, and men. C section,
+with its waggons and equipment, had to be left
+behind, and get on as best it could by some other train;
+so we of C section took the road to Compiègne.
+We reached this charming and historic city in the dark,
+and found that there was no train for us. We crossed
+the Oise again on a bridge of moored barges, as the
+magnificent stone bridge spanning the Oise here was
+in ruins, destroyed by the French during the German
+advance. The night was desperately cold; we slept,
+or tried to sleep, on the boulevard alongside the river
+bank, but had to get up and march about to keep up
+the circulation. The men lit a fire under the trees of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>the boulevard and sat round it all night. There was
+no reason really why we should have slept out on the
+open boulevard, for there was a large, half-empty
+infantry barracks about 20 yards away and the French
+offered us the use of it for the night. Our commanding
+officer, however, decided otherwise, and consequently
+we passed a most miserable night.</p>
+
+<p>Compiègne, situated on the Oise, is one of the most
+charming and fascinating cities in France. In the
+palace, Napoleon Bonaparte and the Empress Marie
+Louise, Louis Philippe, and Napoleon III. frequently
+resided. The tower where Joan of Arc was imprisoned,
+the sixteenth-century Hôtel de Ville with its belfry
+tower, and the old church of St. Jacques well repay a
+visit. The city appeared on the surface to be leading
+a normal life except for the large number of French
+soldiers and the many Red Cross Hospitals. Compiègne
+was at this time a favourite afternoon call for the
+Taubes, and they frequently dropped bombs, meant no
+doubt for the old palace. Old historic châteaux,
+cathedrals, and churches have a strange fascination for
+German artillerists and bomb-droppers.</p>
+
+<p>I must now relate an episode of some interest that
+occurred on the march up to Compiègne—nothing
+less than seeing General Joffre, the Commander-in-Chief
+of the Allied Armies. I had dropped behind from my
+ambulance, and had given my horse to my groom to
+lead behind my section on the march. A marching
+regiment was coming up behind us, and as I knew the
+doctor I waited till the regiment came up, and then
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>joined in and walked alongside my medical friend.
+A large château was situated on the side of the road
+some distance on, and as we came up we saw a large
+group of French officers standing at the old gateway.
+A whisper travelled rapidly down the line that this
+was the French Headquarters Staff and that Joffre
+himself was there. At once the subalterns “tightened
+up” the marching men, heads were lifted, shoulders
+squared, the step became smarter and rhythmic. Low
+muttered commands snapped out: “Smartly there,”
+“By your right,” “Keep your distance, men.” As we
+came abreast of the group at the gateway, the sharp,
+clear command rang out from each platoon officer,
+“Eyes right!” the officers saluted smartly, and with a
+parade swing the fine regiment marched past. I gazed
+long and interestedly at the officer at the gateway who
+took our salute. He was easily distinguishable as
+Joffre, for he was exactly like the pictures seen of him
+in every shop window in France, or rather the pictures
+were faithful representations of Joffre. When I got
+past, I stepped out of the company I was marching with
+on to the far side of the road, and while the remainder
+of the regiment was still passing by I had a good long
+look at the man who means so much to France, and in
+whom France is so sublimely confident. He was
+dressed in a well-fitting but easy blue tunic, with stars
+on the sleeves near the cuff indicating his rank of
+General, and with a gold band on the shoulders, the
+familiar red French trousers, and black polished cavalry
+jack-boots. On his head he had a gold-braided <i>képi</i>.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>Joffre is of middle height, strong and sturdily made,
+broad-shouldered and with a figure stout and heavy.
+His face is full, genial, and attractive, browned like the
+faces of men who have lived and worked in the tropics,
+and with a white moustache which gave a somewhat
+benevolent air. He was evidently interested in the
+march past of our regiment, for he walked three or four
+paces forward from his staff and towards us, and seemed
+to take in all the details of men and equipment as his
+eye scanned up and down. His salute was given with
+the careful exactness and ceremony always bestowed
+by the French upon this act, which the British officer
+goes through so casually.</p>
+
+<p>Joffre did not look the dazzling military leader
+of romance, but he looked very business-like. Here
+was not the lean figure and the hawk nose of a
+Wellington, the glittering swagger of a Murat, or the
+inscrutable pose of the little Grey Man of Destiny.
+Yet this broad, homely, comfortable, and democratic
+figure standing by the roadside and carefully observing
+us, is the most powerful man in France to-day—the
+man against whom no political criticism is levelled,
+the idol of the soldiers, and in whom the people of
+France have such a simple faith. He is called “Our
+Joffre,” and the possessive phrase indicates the pride
+the people and army feel in him. The French will
+tell the following story, which has gone the rounds,
+with great gusto. After a big battle in Poland, Von
+Hindenberg’s Chief of Staff contracted a “political
+illness” and was sent to Berlin to recover his health.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>The Kaiser wired to Hindenberg, “Whom do you
+nominate for your new Chief of Staff?” The reply
+came back, “Would like Joffre.”</p>
+
+<p>French officers at the front will tell you that Joffre
+is an Aristides the Just; that he ordered the shooting
+of four French Generals early in the war because they
+were traitors to France, and that he has “retired”
+all the old Generals who are slow to think and too fond
+of cocktails to be good campaigners; that he speedily
+rewards ability and initiative by promotions on the
+field, and is merciless on an officer—no matter of what
+rank—who shows incompetence.</p>
+
+<p>Joffre was met early in the War of the Trenches
+by an old friend, who greeted him with, “Well, how are
+things going?” The General’s eyes twinkled humorously
+as he replied, “Laissez-moi faire, je les grignotte”
+(“Leave me alone, I am nibbling them”). A French
+surgeon who knows Joffre, told me that he is a good
+sleeper, and that during the worst days he never missed
+one night’s sleep. It was Shakespeare’s Cæsar who
+said, I think, to Mark Antony:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Let me have men about me that are fat,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o’ nights.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Joffre has never interested himself in politics, and
+he is one of the few great Frenchmen who have avoided
+the glamour of the political stage on which so many
+ephemeral reputations have been made and so many
+good ones blasted. Joffre, like most men who “do”
+things, is a silent man. I am glad that I have seen
+“Joffre <i>le taciturne</i>,” and been privileged to salute him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span></p>
+
+<p>Joffre and French are both over sixty years of age.
+Pau, the one-armed French General, known as the
+“Thruster,” is a veteran of the War of 1870. Gallieni,
+the “rock of Paris,” the General destined to hold Paris
+when Von Kluck was bearing so hastily down on the
+capital, is an old man. Von Hindenberg, the pride of
+Germany, is sixty-seven. Von Kluck, the Commander
+of the right wing of the German Army, who so furiously
+hacked his way almost to the gates of Paris, and was
+rolled back in a crushing defeat, is over seventy years
+of age. Napoleon and Wellington were forty-six at
+Waterloo. Nelson died at forty-seven. Ney was
+thirty-five when he was shot. Von Roon, the German
+Minister of War in the Franco-Prussian War, was
+sixty-seven when the campaign began. Bismarck was
+then about fifty-five, and Von Moltke was an old man—a
+septuagenarian. Are we too old at forty? No. I
+knew a chaplain at the front who was fifty-eight years
+of age. In times of peace he took very little physical
+exercise; he was a student, a scholar, and an author.
+I have seen this chaplain march mile after mile in rain
+and mud, and under a broiling sun on dusty roads, and
+he was then fitter than he ever had been before, and
+could eat bully beef and hard biscuits like the hungriest
+youngster. He had the face and eyes and voice of a
+young man, and he laughed like a merry boy.</p>
+
+<p>We left Compiègne at 3 p.m.; our horses and
+waggons were entrained and officers and men got into
+an old and evil-looking “100th” class carriage and
+again set off for a destination unknown. No one
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>seemed to know where we were off to, but the entraining
+and route were really well carried out by the staff of
+the railway. At Amiens we received orders to get off
+at Abbeville, and after a tiring journey we reached
+the mouth of the Somme at 2 a.m. The waggons and
+horses were quickly taken out, and in the dark we
+trekked through Abbeville across open country to
+Gapennes, nine miles away. Here we met the 13th
+Field Ambulance, temporarily quartered in a most
+luxurious château. Our little party was dead beat
+for want of sleep, and some of us lay down on the floor
+of the village schoolhouse and slept heavily for three
+hours. The school was not “in” that day, otherwise
+I am sure the children would have been highly entertained
+to see three weary doctors in khaki soundly
+slumbering on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Still sleepy, we again had to take the road and tramp
+the weary miles. A large number of French ambulances
+passed us going back to Abbeville, and we heard that
+there had been some very hard fighting on the French
+left wing.</p>
+
+<p>The 13th British Infantry Brigade caught up with
+us, and we pulled aside to let them pass. The officers
+told us that they were in a hurry—that the French
+had moved up a lot of troops to the south of Lille and
+that the whole British Army was to form up on the left
+of the French, and that terrific fighting was going on
+round Lille and Arras, and French and German cavalry
+screens had met farther west.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus16" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus16.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Compiègne, showing the broken bridge.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus17" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus17.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Ambulance crossing the Oise on a Pontoon bridge.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>At 5 p.m. we found the headquarters of our ambulance
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>located in a pig-sty of a farmhouse and were
+told that it was to move off shortly and march through
+the night. All the romance of night marching had gone
+for us, and we wanted to sleep. We were tired of walking,
+tired of everything, tired of the war, and vaguely
+wondered why we had been so foolish as to leave
+England.</p>
+
+<p>So at nine o’clock on the same evening off we marched
+again into the outer darkness of a depressing, gloomy
+night, and we were on our feet through the whole of it.
+Most of the time we were standing by the roadside
+waiting for the congestion of the long columns in front
+to ease off. Sometimes we would sit in a ditch by the
+roadside and go off to sleep, only to be wakened a minute
+after by the cry, “Forward!”</p>
+
+<p>About 6 a.m. we reached Croisette. The name
+sounds attractive, but it really was a mean-looking
+farmhouse at a cross-road; however, we got a very good
+breakfast of coffee, bread and fresh butter, and eggs.
+The farmer’s wife was anxious to know how the war
+was going on. She rarely got news, but heard lots of
+rumours. Everybody appeared to be hearing rumours
+as well as the British Army. We told her that we
+had killed thousands of Germans and were on the way
+to slaughter those that were still left; and as this
+appealed to the patriotic instincts of the farm lady,
+she was very satisfied with our latest war bulletin.</p>
+
+<p>In three nights and three days I had had only three
+hours’ sleep, and had got to a stage when I marched,
+rode, and ate my food in a sort of subconscious state of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>reflex animation. In the late afternoon we rumbled
+into Thielyce, and tried fruitlessly to find some billets
+for our officers and men. The place was full of small
+cottages, and the cottagers eagerly offered each to take
+in one or two men; but we could not allow this, as
+in the event of sudden orders through the night we
+might not be able to get all our men together. We
+always lived in one large party or habitation like gipsies.
+One old woman of the village was extremely anxious
+to have some khaki soldiers stop at her house. She
+was curious to observe the English at close quarters,
+as she had never seen one before and had heard that
+they were such terrible fighting men. Our looks belied
+our reputation; we looked harmless, very dirty and
+dusty, but very tame.</p>
+
+<p>The ambulance was parked in a field off the village
+street and inside a delightful clump of trees. Too tired
+to eat, I lay down as I was, armed cap-à-pie, at the
+foot of a tall umbrageous tree and slept a dreamless sleep.</p>
+
+<p>At five o’clock next morning the sharp call of our
+O.C., “Field Ambulance, turn out!” aroused me
+again to a world of marching men and war; but I was
+my own man again and optimistic, and no longer
+wondered why I had left England.</p>
+
+<p>We had a picnic breakfast sitting on the grass in
+the field, and at seven o’clock received orders to move
+off: we were to follow the 13th and 14th Brigades into
+Bethune and on to La Bassée, and be prepared for big
+casualties, as a stern battle was expected and the
+two brigades would probably be in action before midday.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>There was a feeling of expectancy in the air
+that morning. All the rumours about a big battle
+and all our quick movements and marchings by night
+seemed to presage a clash at arms. We hoped for
+old England’s sake that we would do well; our pulses
+were stirred and we were all very much alive.</p>
+
+<p>We moved off smartly down a fine old tree-lined road
+towards the sound of heavy guns which had been in
+action from daybreak. On our way we passed thousands
+of hurrying refugees going towards St. Pol.
+Without stopping, our ambulances growled their way
+through the ancient cobble-stoned town on to the
+big high road leading to Bethune. Here again we
+met thousands of refugees, nearly all young men of
+military age. We were curious to know why these
+men were not in the French Army, and a French officer
+told us that they belonged to Lille and the surrounding
+districts, and had been ordered out by the French
+authorities to report at military dépôts farther south
+for training and active service. These “mobilisables”
+would have been good captures for the Germans and a
+considerable loss to the French Army. Amongst them
+I counted twenty-seven priests in black caps and
+cassocks; they, too, were on their way to shoulder a
+French rifle. One young man I noticed carrying a
+white rabbit in a bird-cage in one hand and a bundle of
+clothes and boots in the other; he was saving his
+rabbit from a German pie. Another fellow was walking
+along the road in carpet slippers and with a pair of
+heavy boots suspended round his neck.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span></p>
+
+<p>The poor refugees looked tired, disappointed, and
+depressed, and no wonder. It is hard suddenly to
+have to leave your home, your friends, your wife and
+children, and to go away with a gnawing fear that
+they will be in the power of an arrogant and brutal
+enemy who knows no mercy. We pitied them all.</p>
+
+<p>After all, there was no battle that day. We halted
+on the way some time, and then were rapidly marched
+forward towards Bethune. We were now passing
+through coal-mining towns and villages, and they
+recalled very much the villages and houses round coal
+areas of Scotland like Falkirk. The type of coal-miner
+and the coal-miner’s cottage are very much the same
+all over the world. These people did not seem very
+curious or interested in our passage through their
+villages or towns—simply gave us a glance at
+passing.</p>
+
+<p>That night we bivouacked in a château near
+Bethune and on the main road. We could not get any
+farther forward, for the road in front was blocked up
+by big guns and little guns, ammunition columns,
+engineer battalions, and infantry. We saw a number
+of waggons loaded up with big pontoon boats, and
+speculated that we must be near water. So we were.
+We were near the famous canal, but the boats were
+intended for farther west.</p>
+
+<p>After tea in the kitchen of the big château, some
+of us got on our horses and rode into the city of Bethune,
+now full of troops, and the bustle of warlike preparations.
+There were all nationalities in the streets of Bethune
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>that night. Arabs in flowing robes were on horseback
+in the square, looking strangely out of place in this
+old western city. Spahis, French Grenadiers, French
+gunners, Alpine Chasseurs in round cloth caps, Belgian,
+French, and British officers, and, of course, Mr. Thomas
+Atkins, quite at home, smoking a Woodbine cigarette
+and being petted and openly admired by the women
+and the girls. We heard here that Antwerp had
+fallen, and thought the news very serious. It was
+quite unexpected, as we had not known that it had
+been strongly besieged.</p>
+
+<p>At five o’clock next morning we were on the road
+in a dense fog, and after going forward about half a
+mile were told to bivouac in a field near the road
+till some ammunition columns and guns got past us.
+This we did, but Monsignor wandered off alone farther
+down the road. We missed him for a long time, and
+when he did turn up he told us that he had been
+arrested as a spy by the French. Two or three French
+sentries with fixed bayonets surrounded him, and I
+don’t know what arguments Monsignor used to convince
+them that he was an Englishman. But he came
+back smiling, and was evidently much tickled over the
+whole affair. He was the only officer in the British
+Army, and in fact the only member of the Expeditionary
+Force, who was not in khaki uniform, and it is no wonder
+that the French thought it odd that he should be
+strolling about “on his own,” looking at British guns
+and equipment. We were all delighted, of course, at
+Monsignor’s arrest, and regretted that we had not been
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>there with our cameras. We were quite determined,
+if he were again arrested, to disown all knowledge of
+him, just to see what the French would do next.</p>
+
+<p>After some hours’ wait in the field we pushed on again
+through Bethune towards the canal. This canal was to
+us then simply a canal and nothing more, but along this
+belt of slowly flowing water was to be waged very soon
+one of the most terrific and sanguinary struggles recorded
+in history.</p>
+
+<p>As we approached the canal the Norfolk Regiment
+came up, and we drew to the side of the road to give
+them the right of way. I sat on a heap of stones by the
+roadside and watched this fine regiment marching
+smartly past, and I remember thinking curiously that
+probably that same day, perhaps within a few hours,
+many of these fine fellows would have fallen and many
+would be maimed.</p>
+
+<p>It is an impressive thing to see a regiment going
+into action. The Norfolks knew that they would very
+soon be in the thick of things, as they were marching
+on the sound of the heavy guns, but they looked perfectly
+cheerful and unconcerned. That night several of them
+passed under my hands on the operating table, and many
+more were lying very still on the wet earth not far away.</p>
+
+<p>The King’s Own Scottish Borderers passed us earlier
+in the morning, and with them was Dr. D—— as
+regimental surgeon. D—— was one of the first medical
+officers over the Aisne, and he put through some splendid
+service for the wounded under a heavy fire, and was
+mentioned in dispatches. Four days afterwards poor
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>D—— and his stretcher-bearers were captured and sent
+as prisoners to Germany.</p>
+
+<p>At 11 a.m. we crossed the narrow bridge spanning
+the now famous canal leading up towards La Bassée,
+and installed our ambulance headquarters in the Château
+Gorre on the road to Festubert. The château had up
+till that day been the headquarters of a French cavalry
+general, and it was a most palatially fitted-up place.</p>
+
+<p>Our long journey was over. We had left the Aisne
+and taken up a new position near La Bassée in the north
+of France. We were now in a countryside destined
+soon to become the theatre of an intense and sanguinary
+struggle. It was here that our men withstood the shock
+of the most determined and relentless head-on attacks
+of the enemy. This was one of the roads to Calais, and
+we held the gate.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE LA BASSÉE ROAD AT CHÂTEAU GORRE.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>As the fighting is still going on round this district any
+description of military positions or dispositions would be
+quite out of place.</p>
+
+<p>Our headquarters at Château Gorre was a beautiful
+two-storied stone building, quite modern, and well
+arranged in every way with spacious lofty halls, dining-rooms,
+lounges, bedrooms, and bathrooms.</p>
+
+<p>When we took up our quarters here we knew that we
+would soon be busy with wounded, and the central
+hall of the château was at once prepared for their reception.
+Two larger rooms opening to the right and to
+the left off the hall were covered with mattresses and
+blankets, hot water was prepared, operation table
+opened out, and towels and instruments made ready.
+Just when we had about finished preparations our first
+arrivals, four men of the Dragoon Guards, turned up.
+They had been wounded slightly in the arms and face
+while advancing along the road towards Festubert.
+Twenty minutes later fifty-four wounded arrived,
+Bedfords and Cheshires, most of whom had slight
+wounds of the arms and hands and scalp, and were able
+to walk.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span></p>
+
+<p>Urgent orders came in to send six ambulance
+waggons down the Festubert road. These were sent
+forward with stretcher parties and six medical officers.
+This was the beginning of a very “bloody” night. All
+that evening and all night wounded were continually
+coming in. I was on duty in the château as surgeon
+till 4 a.m., when another medical officer relieved me.
+Red Cross ambulances were driven up frequently and
+took away all our lightly wounded and those fit to travel.
+These were sent to Bethune, and thus the château was
+kept from becoming too congested. These Red Cross
+ambulances had been provided and equipped by British
+residents in Paris; they were splendidly handled,
+and proved a godsend to us. Many of them were
+converted “Ford cars,” and could carry six lying-down
+patients and one sitting up beside the driver. The
+stretchers were swung on trestles and chains, and fitted
+easily. Our ambulance waggons and stretcher-bearers
+were out all night and had a very dangerous time at the
+front. At 10.30 next morning the heavy artillery firing
+eased off, and at eleven o’clock occurred one of those
+extraordinary lulls when all the big guns and little guns
+cease firing and everything seems strangely silent.</p>
+
+<p>A chaplain arrived at the château in the morning
+and read the service over one of our wounded who had
+died during the night from a broken spine. The grave
+was dug near the flower garden at the foot of the lawn,
+and many graves were dug there in the three succeeding
+terrible weeks of fierce, bitter fighting. On this day the
+Dorsets, who were in reserve and quartered near the gate
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>of our château, went into action and were badly handled
+by the Germans, suffering severe losses, chiefly from a
+concealed German machine-gun opening on to them
+from near the canal. The Devons had to move up
+later to support the Dorsets, and did it in a most gallant
+style. About two o’clock in the afternoon we had a
+great number of casualties; our waggons were constantly
+arriving, unloading their wounded, and setting off again
+for the front.</p>
+
+<p>The Red Cross ambulances were evacuating the light
+cases as speedily as possible to Bethune, but we very
+soon had all our rooms full of wounded men and were
+working at high pressure at the operation table. At
+three o’clock the artillery firing was tremendously heavy,
+and every gun was in action. The château shook with
+the explosions; every window rattled and some were
+broken. The concussion of the air outside and the
+terrible din were distinctly unpleasant. Then the
+cracking of the rifle-firing became audible, and reports
+came in that our men were retiring. Shortly after
+an imperative order was sent to our O.C. telling him to
+evacuate the château at once with his wounded and
+move off the Field Ambulance to the other side of the
+canal. The horses were at once put in the various supply
+waggons. We had only two ambulance waggons at the
+time, as the rest were at the front collecting wounded.
+Some Red Cross ambulances, however, turned up and
+took away twelve of our most serious cases. All the
+lightly wounded were sent under charge of R.A.M.C.
+orderlies to walk back across the canal to Bethune.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>Some men with shrapnel wounds of thigh and leg also
+had to walk and get along somehow, and miserable and
+pitiable these poor fellows looked, limping and struggling
+along the muddy road in their bloody bandages. Things
+looked pretty serious at this moment, and I was ordered
+to mount and gallop ahead to direct the waggons on to
+the right road and to “round up” our poor wounded
+fellows who were trudging along the roads. To make
+matters worse, heavy rain came on. Big artillery
+practice always brought down the rain. I soon reached
+the head of our column and gave the sergeant the
+necessary instructions.</p>
+
+<p>On the side of the road there was an old inn or
+<i>estaminet</i>. I pulled my horse up here and put two
+men on duty to stop all our walking wounded and
+collect them into the front room of the inn. I went
+inside and arranged with the woman in charge to light
+a big fire, make some tea, and have bread and butter
+and anything else she could get ready for our men, and
+to do it quickly. She set to work at once. I had then
+to gallop back to the Château Gorre to help get away
+the serious cases and to collect any empty lorry or
+waggon I could get. When I reached the château the
+O.C. told me that we had moved up some reserves,
+and the Germans in their turn were now retiring. He
+said that he would now keep his serious cases at the
+château till motor ambulances arrived. I was ordered
+to gallop again to the head of our column and turn
+back all the supply waggons, equipment carts, and
+water carts, but to send the ambulance waggons
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>with their wounded on to Bethune. It was now dark,
+and after incredible trouble my mission was accomplished
+and our drivers were already driving the carts
+back. I now looked in at “mine inn.” All our wounded
+fellows were sitting round the fire having tea,
+bread and butter, and slices of cold boiled ham, and
+looked very happy. I asked the woman of the inn
+what the cost was, and she only charged me ten francs.
+I never parted with money so willingly. The privilege
+of being able to do something for these good lads, and
+their appreciation of the hot fire and the hot tea, was
+something I would not willingly forget.</p>
+
+<p>The Château Gorre was once more re-established
+as an advanced ambulance dressing station, and continued
+so for over three weeks. It was situated right
+inside the shell zone, and had many “alarms and
+excursions” during this period, but none quite so
+dramatic and sensational as that recorded above. The
+work done by this ambulance at the château was
+extraordinarily good and useful, and owing to its very
+advanced position so close to the fighting line it was
+able to receive and treat the wounded very soon after
+they had been hit.</p>
+
+<p>When the order came to evacuate at the time of
+the incident related above, the instructions given to
+our Commanding Officer were to get out all the lightly
+wounded cases and to leave the serious cases in the
+château. Our O.C. was a soldier, and he said that if
+he had to go he would get all the wounded out, and
+that he would be “damned if he would leave any
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>seriously wounded man in the hands of the b——
+Germans.” Strong language at times is sweet music,
+and our O.C. was a man of his word. The wounded
+men heard this story, and I heard some of them talking
+about it later to each other. The O.C. took a high
+place in their estimation.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp52" id="illus18" style="max-width: 21.875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus18.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Low flat ground near the canal—with a
+    trench.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp52" id="illus19" style="max-width: 21.875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus19.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Towards La Bassée.</span><br>
+      Many British dead lie here.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>At the château I was talking to a young lieutenant
+who had just received a commission in the D——
+Regiment. He had served as a private at the beginning
+of the war and won his sergeant’s stripes for general
+good conduct and gallantry under fire, and was then
+given a commission in another regiment. He was hard
+put for a smoke, and could not get any cigarettes, but
+fortunately I was able to give him some.</p>
+
+<p>Ten days later, at Bethune, he was brought in to
+me with a crushed arm, hanging by only a thread of
+muscle to the shoulder, and I had to amputate it under
+chloroform. He recognised me as the man who had
+given him the cigarettes, and said, “Hullo, doctor,
+you’re always doing me kind things, so now take my
+arm off.” I was very sorry that I had to do it, but
+such is war and the aftermath of victory.</p>
+
+<p>Next day after our big alarm I was sent back by
+the Assistant Director of the Medical Service of this
+Division to take up duty at Bethune, four miles back
+from where we were, at the Château Gorre, and to help
+in the organisation for handling and treating our many
+wounded there. Bethune was on the other side of
+the canal to the château, and during the succeeding
+three or four weeks became a very big hospital
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>centre for the British engaged in the direction of La
+Bassée.</p>
+
+<p>The Field Ambulance headquarters, with the waggons,
+still remained at the château closer to the firing line,
+and evacuated their many wounded as speedily as
+possible in to us at Bethune. These were strenuous
+days of hard and obstinate fighting, and the casualties
+were heavy. The life of the medical officer was at this
+place arduous and sleepless, but the motto of the Royal
+Army Medical Corps is “In arduis fidelis,” which may
+be freely rendered “Always do your job.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br>
+<span class="smaller">BETHUNE.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Bethune held a position of great importance behind our
+lines, for our wounded were evacuated thither from
+the front, and those fit to take the journey were
+then sent on by hospital trains to Boulogne and Rouen
+and then to England. This old city will be visited by
+many English after the war, for many English officers
+and men are sleeping their long sleep in the old cemetery
+and in various parts of the surrounding country. One
+day, I am sure, a monument to the memory of the brave
+dead will be raised in Bethune, and the mural inscription
+will commemorate the names of the fallen, and
+place on record for all time the kindness, the sympathy,
+and the generous hearts of the people of Bethune who
+helped us all so much during the hard days of the war.</p>
+
+<p>Owing to its many recent bombardments from
+guns and aeroplanes, and its proximity to the famous
+canal and La Bassée, Bethune has become a city of
+world-wide interest. Its population was at this time a
+cosmopolitan one. The warriors of the East were in
+friendly touch with the warriors of the West. The
+slanting, almond-eye Gurkha, the stately bearded Sikh,
+the swarthy fighting men from the frontiers and central
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>plains of India, the Turcos with their flowing robes,
+the dapper Spahi, the black-eyed Senegalese, the French
+Alpine Chasseur, and the splendid Cuirassier, were
+all to be seen in its streets; and there also was Mr.
+Thomas Atkins, making himself, as usual, quite at home
+with them all, and also with the pleasant-faced smiling
+young women in the tobacconists and fruit shops.</p>
+
+<p>Bethune, with its 14,000 inhabitants, is said to be
+the home of many millionaires—those manufacturing
+and industrial magnates who control the big industries
+of this thriving and populous part of France. The
+situation of the city is not very attractive. It is surrounded
+by muddy, swampy country, in some places
+nothing better than marshes or bogs in winter, but it
+is supposed to be attractive in spring and summer, when
+it is “a green prairie land.”</p>
+
+<p>The old square in the centre of the city has a very
+Flemish complexion, but is undoubtedly, owing to the
+irregularities in design and architecture of the surrounding
+houses and shops, a very attractive and fascinating
+spot. On one side are two fine old fourteenth-century
+Spanish houses built for some Spanish grandees in the
+days when Spain was supreme in the Netherlands. In
+the centre of the square is an old church and a mass
+of hoary buildings forming an island, and out of this
+island group of buildings the wonderful old Belfry of
+Bethune erects itself proudly skyward. The belfry
+was built in 1346, and behind it is the venerable church
+of St. Vaast, a product of the sixteenth century, with a
+very ornate Gothic tower.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span></p>
+
+<p>Naturally the belfry and the tower of St. Vaast
+proved to be irresistibly attractive to the German
+gunners, and the batteries beyond La Bassée were
+constantly having long bowls practice at them. From
+the top of the belfry one could obtain a splendid view of
+the surrounding countryside and see the shrapnel and
+big shells burst miles away. Taubes were constantly
+flying over Bethune at this time, but later on they
+became very chary about visiting it.</p>
+
+<p>The life of the old city during the past eight months
+has been rather unhappy, and it has gone through
+some stormy periods in the past. In 1188 a devastating
+plague swept the countryside, causing thousands of
+deaths and plunging the population into an abyss of
+fear and misery.</p>
+
+<p>When the plague was at its height Saint Eloi appeared
+to two blacksmiths and recommended them to form an
+association of “charitables,” charged to perform the last
+offices for the dead gratuitously and to help those in
+distress. This curious association exists to-day in
+Bethune under the name of Confrères des Charitables.
+During our stay in Bethune the charitables lived up
+to their old tradition and took the deepest interest in
+the welfare of our soldiers, made coffins for a very
+large number of our dead, and in their curious three-cornered
+“Napoleonic” hats and quaint badge and
+bands, solemnly followed the many dead to their last
+resting-place.</p>
+
+<p>Bethune has passed through many sieges in its day.
+In 1487 it was in possession of the Germans under
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>Philippe of Cleves, and was captured by the French
+under Marshal d’Erquerdes at the victory called
+“Journée des Fromages,” and at a later period of its
+history it was fortified by the great French engineer,
+Vauban.</p>
+
+<p>The people of Bethune opened wide their arms and
+welcomed our wounded. From the Mayor of the city to
+the humblest little shop girl these good people did all
+they could for our men, dead, wounded, or active. The
+women of the town made delicacies, soups, and special
+dishes, provided wines and more solid comforts, such
+as beds, mattresses, blankets, and sheets. Had I but
+lifted my little finger and asked for volunteer nurses,
+I could, I am sure, have obtained them in hundreds.
+Every day while I was there I received letters from
+all sorts of people offering me help and all manner of
+things for our men. On an afternoon at Bethune at
+this time it was “the thing” for ladies to visit L’Hôpital
+Civil et Militaire and see the British soldiers. Our
+lightly wounded men would generally be sitting about
+on seats outside in the courtyard of the hospital surrounded
+by convalescent Frenchmen and crowds of
+admiring ladies, who had brought cigarettes, chocolate,
+and cakes for the soldiers of both nations.</p>
+
+<p>Although Tommy did not know a word of French
+and they knew no English, they seemed to thoroughly
+understand each other, judging by the amused faces
+of the elder French ladies and the screams of laughter
+of the younger ones. We could never quite understand
+how Tommy has won such an enduring place
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>in French hearts. The French people certainly like
+Tommy. I was glad to see this everywhere in France,
+for I, too, like Tommy, although he is full of tricks.</p>
+
+<p>A section of the Field Ambulance consisting of two
+medical officers, Royal Army Medical Corps orderlies,
+waggons, cooks, and equipment had already taken
+possession of the school called L’École Jules Ferry,
+and was getting it into some order so as to act as a
+Clearing Hospital, or temporary Dressing Station or
+temporary Clearing Hospital.</p>
+
+<p>We were to hold the fort till a properly equipped
+Clearing Hospital with its increased <i>personnel</i> and
+supplies should arrive. This did not appear for some
+days, and our Field Ambulance section had the herculean
+task of handling all the wounded from the
+fighting front, where a bloody struggle was in progress
+round the swamps and marshy country towards La
+Bassée. L’École Jules Ferry was situated down a
+side street of the old city, and near the railway station.
+It was a very large school, with several big lofty rooms,
+many small side-rooms, porches and alcoves of many
+sorts. There was a large courtyard with latrines, and
+the buildings formed a hollow square with part of
+the courtyard in the centre. The face of the buildings
+looking on to the courtyard had a long sweep of verandahs.
+The orderlies soon got to work, cleaned and
+swept the rooms, and covered the floor thickly with
+clean straw. No beds were then available. In a
+small side-room off a passage-way an operating table
+was fixed, and the surgical instruments and dressings
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>were laid ready. Boiling water had to be carried to
+the operating room in buckets from the kitchen at
+the end of the building. The hospital was all very
+crude, but it was the best that could be done under
+the circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>We did not have to await events; the events were
+there at once in the guise of crowds of recently wounded
+men. Motor ambulance after motor ambulance dashed
+up with its load of wounded. These were rapidly
+lifted out and carried into the building; then away
+went the ambulance to bring in more wounded. Many
+and large as were the schoolrooms they were quickly
+filled to overflowing. The corridors and porches were
+then covered with straw, and this straw was soon
+covered with rows of wounded men. The paved
+courtyard under the verandahs was covered with
+thick straw, and again covered with wounded. Every
+foot, every inch of floor space in the buildings and
+under the verandahs was utilised. In one room we
+had closely packed rows four deep, with a narrow footway
+of straw down the centre of the room for the
+doctors and orderlies to pass along. So narrow was
+this track, that it required the agility of a mountain
+goat to negotiate it without bumping some poor devil’s
+feet, and we walked along it just as a man walks
+across a ploughed field, stepping high and watching
+each step. Those densely packed rooms during that
+long night were a lurid and impressive picture of the
+devastation of war. As more and more wounded
+continued to arrive we had to pack our men closer
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>and closer together—gently push one this way, lift
+another one there, edge a third one closer still. So it
+went on. We had in our rooms a number of French
+wounded picked up and brought in by our ambulances,
+and also a fair number of German wounded. There
+is no nationality amongst the men in a hospital, and
+English, French, and German all had a little bit of floor
+space and a bit of straw in our schoolhouse that night.
+All were glad to get in out of the pouring rain, and be
+placed on the warm dry straw, and covered with a
+blanket.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus20" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus20.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Slightly wounded and sick at Bethune.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus21" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus21.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">École Jules Ferry at Bethune.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>All these men arrived with the first field-dressings on.
+Some had been put on by the surgeon with the regiment,
+some by bearers and orderlies, some by Field Ambulance
+officers, and some by the man’s comrades on the field.</p>
+
+<p>At first we were so busy “packing” our wounded
+that we could not investigate the nature of the wounds,
+but we were very soon under way with the professional
+side of our work. Every wound was examined; the
+slight ones were left alone, but the serious ones were
+re-dressed and a rough differentiation of serious and
+slight cases was made. Those requiring immediate
+surgery were brought into our operation room and
+anæsthetics were administered. All men in pain were
+given hypodermics of morphia, and our orderlies made
+hot drinks and soups for all those able to take nourishment.
+There were, of course, many men lying unconscious
+with severe brain wounds, and most of these
+men died next day. The brain injuries were amongst
+our most hopeless cases, but fortunately these poor
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>fellows suffered no pain whatever, and slept stertorously
+till death. There was one particularly fine, strapping,
+young giant lieutenant of a Scotch regiment who was
+comfortably placed on straw and covered with a blanket,
+and who lay quietly sleeping, with gentle and easy
+respirations, all the night till the next forenoon, when
+he suddenly became quite still. The top of his head had
+been blown completely away.</p>
+
+<p>The crowds of wounded behaved like brave men
+and took their gruelling like good sportsmen. Next
+day the pressure was relieved by the opportune
+arrival of a hospital train, and we were enabled to
+evacuate 250 of the cases fit for transport. More doctors
+and Red Cross dressers were sent to help, and the vacant
+places of the 250 sent away were occupied by the arrival
+of another 300.</p>
+
+<p>As the pressure for beds showed no signs of easing
+off, and as the reports from the front were that the
+fighting was still violent and obstinate, a search was
+made for another building to hold more wounded.
+This was found at L’Hôpital Civil et Militaire, a
+permanent hospital of the city of Bethune. It was a
+hospital of three stories, built of brick round three sides
+of a big hollow square. The fourth side was occupied by
+the porter’s lodge, the two gateways, and the residential
+quarters of the Reverend Mother and Sisters of the Order
+of St. Francis, who formed the nursing staff. The
+basement wards of one wing were for French military
+patients, and the other wings were for civilian patients;
+but as a matter of fact military wounded were put in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>all the wards except the midwifery ward, which was full
+of young babies and mothers. One of these young
+mothers, by the way, had just become the proud
+possessor of triplets. I had a look at them, and they
+seemed very fit. Their father had been away for the past
+three months in the trenches of the Argonne, but permission
+had been asked to enable him to come down
+and see how well his wife had done.</p>
+
+<p>The top story of the hospital had two large empty
+wards, each capable of holding seventy patients placed
+fairly closely together. I asked permission of the
+Reverend Mother and the hospital secretary to use
+these wards for the reception of our wounded.</p>
+
+<p>“But yes,” I was eagerly told; “you are welcome,
+and we shall do all we can for your English wounded.”
+I was also offered the use of three side-rooms and part
+of another small ward for any wounded officers, and—greatest
+boon of all—the use of the two operating
+theatres of the hospital. These operating theatres
+were modern and splendidly equipped with good surgical
+iron operating tables, suitable for adjusting in any
+position, sterilisers for instruments, dressings, aprons,
+and operating towels, glass cases full of the latest
+type of instruments, and hot and cold water taps
+controlled by foot-pedals on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>The lighting was all that one could desire. My joy
+knew no bounds now, for I felt that at last I would
+be able to do good surgery and clean surgery. Up till
+now the surgery I had done on the field was crude and
+not very clean. It was absolutely impossible to be
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>otherwise, for we were the victims of stern military
+circumstances. But now things would be different,
+and our wounded men and officers would get the benefit
+of surgical cleanliness.</p>
+
+<p>I asked the Reverend Mother if she would prepare
+one hundred straw mattresses for me, and get in some
+blankets. “But yes” I would get them; and also
+Monsieur le Docteur would have tables put in the centre
+of the wards for the dressings, and would have basins
+and towels. An electrician would fix up electric lights,
+and a kitchen stove would be put in a side-room for
+cooking soup, boiling water, etc. I reported all this to
+Surgeon-General P——, and that able officer quickly
+grasped the possibilities of this hospital, installed me
+there as operating surgeon, and directed that all serious
+cases requiring surgical operation should be sent to me.
+A real Clearing Hospital arrived in the town next
+morning, and next day took in patients. It established
+itself in the “College for Young Ladies,” and very
+soon the spacious quarters of this big building were
+filled with wounded and sick men. For besides our
+wounded at this time we had also a large number of
+sick. This hospital also sent me any case requiring
+surgical operation.</p>
+
+<p>Work at my wards proceeded apace. The women of
+the city rushed eagerly to assist, and in a <i>clin d’œil</i>
+had made 180 straw mattresses, provided blankets, hot-water
+bottles, and other sick-room adjuncts. The
+position in Bethune was now as follows. One Clearing
+Hospital at the College for Young Ladies, one at the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>school “Jules Ferry,” and my surgical wards, only
+for serious cases, at L’Hôpital Civil et Militaire. All
+three buildings were soon full, and over seven thousand
+wounded men passed through these buildings in less
+than three weeks.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Anthony Bowlby, consulting surgeon to the
+Army, constantly visited this hospital, and was always
+a welcome visitor; and his surgical opinion was as
+welcome as his encouragement and cheeriness of
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>The operating theatre was presided over by Sister
+Ferdinande, a trained and capable nurse, with rigid
+antiseptic and aseptic principles. All I had to do was
+to tell her that I was going to amputate a limb or do a
+trephining operation, and ask her when she would be
+ready. At the agreed time everything was certain
+to be prepared, and I just had to scrub up, put on
+my sterilised apron, cap, and rubber gloves, and be
+ready for my part of the <i>séance</i>. The Reverend Mother
+Superior was a trained anæsthetist and administered
+chloroform to many of my cases during the three weeks
+I was there. Some days I have had her administering
+anæsthetics for seven hours. Seven hours’ continuous
+administration, broken only by the taking out of one
+patient and the bringing in of another, is a big test
+of endurance for a young man; yet this old lady
+did it smilingly and well, and said it was “indeed
+nothing.”</p>
+
+<p>There were two Irish nuns at this hospital; one
+spoke French well, one was just learning, but both
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>spoke “Irish,” which is good English. These two nuns
+were put on nursing duty in my wards, and they were
+hugely delighted to get amongst the British wounded
+and to hear their countrymen talk. Tommy Atkins
+was delighted with the two Irish nuns, and told them
+some wonderful stories about the fighting and about
+the Germans. One of them asked me if I really thought
+that Private S—— of the Warwicks had shot two
+hundred Germans one afternoon. I told the sister that I
+did not know, but hoped he had. These two sisters were
+at work in the wards night and day. They told me one
+day that they had never heard a soldier swear. I was
+very glad to hear this, for it showed that Tommy was
+behaving himself, and I did not tell the sister that
+Tommy on occasion was a very past master in strange
+oaths. The sisters were very concerned about the lice
+on our soldiers’ shirts and flannels; and really this was a
+terrible source of anxiety to all medical officers at this
+time, for these cursed parasites would make the lot of
+our wounded men unbearable at times. One man with
+a fractured leg put up firmly in splints begged me to
+take the splints off so that he could “scratch the leg.”
+I had really in the end to take off the splint, bathe the
+skin in petrol, and dust sulphur on the cotton wool, for
+lice had worked their way down into the warm wool
+next the skin, and by their “promenading” about had
+set up the irritation which the soldier begged to scratch.
+The sister once said to me that she used to think that
+the British soldiers were the most cleanly of men, but
+she found really that they were all covered with lice.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>I told the wondering-eyed sister that it was a regrettable
+fact, but nevertheless true, that the whole British
+Army at the front was lousy.</p>
+
+<p>When our wounded arrived at the hospital they
+were speedily placed on the straw mattresses, quickly
+undressed by the sisters and other helping nuns, and
+covered with warm sheets and blankets and surrounded
+with hot bottles. Basins of hot water and soap were
+brought round and then the men were washed and
+cleaned. Their lice-infected shirts and underclothing
+were sterilised by dry heat.</p>
+
+<p>It was the finest example of <i>l’entente cordiale</i> to
+see the French nuns taking off the muddy boots and
+puttees, cutting off blood-stained clothing, washing
+and cleaning the wounded, slipping on warm dry shirts,
+and tucking the blankets and pillows comfortably.
+Others appeared with hot soup, hot coffee, red wine,
+and hot gruel. These nuns were magnificent.</p>
+
+<p>I wrote to Lord Grey, late Governor-General of
+Canada, asking him to bring to the notice of Her Majesty
+Queen Alexandra the splendid work performed by
+these ladies. Lord Grey very kindly did so, and also
+sent a copy of my letter to His Majesty the King, who
+replied through Lord Stamfordham that he had read
+it with much interest. Queen Alexandra sent the
+following letter to the Reverend Mother Superior of the
+Franciscan Sisters at Bethune:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>“I have learned from Dr. Martin of your noble and
+heroic devotion for our brave and unfortunate wounded
+soldiers, and it is with a heart full of gratitude that I
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>ask you to accept my most ardent and warmest
+thanks.</p>
+
+<p>“I pray God that He will reward you for the angelic
+care that you have bestowed on our unfortunate soldiers,
+and I will never forget that it is to you, madame, and
+your sisters, that they assuredly owe their life and
+their recovered health.</p>
+
+<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Alexandra.</span>”</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>This letter was published in all the leading French
+and British papers, including the <i>London Times</i>, <i>Tablet</i>,
+<i>Daily Mail</i>, <i>Figaro</i>, <i>Le Journal</i>, <i>Le Temps</i>, in February
+1915, and excited very considerable interest and attention
+in France. The Abbé Bouchon d’Homme, the
+Aumonier to the hospital, wrote me later to say that the
+Reverend Mother and the Sisters were delighted beyond
+measure at Queen Alexandra’s gracious message.</p>
+
+<p>It may not be out of place now to describe briefly
+the nature of some of the wounds met with during
+the fighting at La Bassée. The non-medical mind is
+as interested in the wounds and sufferings of our men
+as are the doctors, and it is to the intelligent interest
+of the layman we owe so much of what has been done
+for our wounded and sick men. Compound fractures
+and splintered bone, septic wounds, tetanus, brain
+injuries, inoculations, etc., are words freely bandied
+about and understood by any group of ladies met
+together round an afternoon tea-table. Mrs. Smith-Jones
+will tell Mrs. Jones-Smith that her son is in
+hospital with a septic compound fracture and that the
+wound is being fully drained, and Mrs. J.-S. will reply
+that her sister’s husband, Captain X—— of the R.F.A.,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>is recovering from a penetrating wound of the lung,
+but has still some pleural effusion. So no apology is
+further necessary when referring to such a thing as gas
+gangrene.</p>
+
+<p>Gas gangrene was one of the terrors of the doctors
+at this time. It was a new and totally unexpected
+complication of the wounds, and at first we did not
+know what to do in the face of this pressing danger. A
+man would get, say, a flesh wound of the arm or leg, or
+perhaps a fractured bone, and very soon the whole limb
+would become gangrenous and die. Gangrene means
+death of the part. It may be death of a small part or
+of a large part, and the worst feature of the form of
+gangrene met with at Bethune was its tendency to rapid
+spread, resulting in the speedy death of the limb and
+of the patient. We had many deaths from this terrible
+gas gangrene, and performed many amputations to
+save lives. A good surgeon hates to amputate a limb,
+and will gladly exert all his skill and knowledge to save
+even a toe. It was heartrending to have to perform
+so many amputations at Bethune, and yet these serious
+mutilating operations had to be performed in order to
+save lives.</p>
+
+<p>The gangrene was caused by a group of bacilli called
+anærobes, amongst which may be many organisms.
+About ten different organisms have been obtained from
+cases of gas gangrene, and these all belong to the same
+family of anærobic bacilli. They are all spore-bearing,
+and grow in the absence of air. These bacilli are found
+in the soil in France and Belgium, and are always to be
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>found in the soil of those countries which have been
+closely cultivated for centuries past.</p>
+
+<p>If a guinea-pig is inoculated with a sample of this
+earth shaken up in a little water it will develop this gas
+gangrene and die. Imagine, then, this picture. The
+soil of the trenches is full of these organisms, which, if
+introduced into an open wound, grow and spread and
+cause the limb to become gangrenous. As the organism
+spreads up the limb it produces a gas of its own, and
+by pressing on the skin one can feel this gas cracking,
+like tissue paper, under the fingers. The treatment is
+to inject the parts with oxygen or peroxide of hydrogen,
+to make free incisions round the wound, thoroughly
+cleanse the wound and keep it clean. The general
+condition of the patients required great care, for they
+were all very, very ill. When a man got wounded in
+the trenches some dirt was bound to get into the wound,
+for the men’s hands and clothes were usually caked
+with mud.</p>
+
+<p>It is a natural movement to clap a hand on the
+wounded spot. If a man is struck on the face or limbs,
+he will lay down his rifle or perhaps drop it, and at
+once put his hand on the injured part to ascertain the
+extent. It is a movement which is almost involuntary.
+I have seen hit men do this often, and when they withdraw
+their hand they always look at it to see if there is
+any blood, and the bravest man does not like to see
+his own blood. The hands of the men in the trenches
+were infected with the bacilli of this gas gangrene and
+of tetanus, and when these infected fingers touched a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>recent wound, the wound itself became infected with
+these highly dangerous organisms.</p>
+
+<p>Pieces of khaki cloth, caked in mud, were often
+driven into the wounds with the bullets and shrapnel,
+and on this cloth there were of course millions of the
+deadly little beasts.</p>
+
+<p>If the case reached us soon after the onset of
+gangrene a cure could almost certainly be promised.
+If the case arrived late, when the limbs were dead,
+amputation was the only “conservative treatment”
+that one could adopt. Many of the cases sent to me
+were beyond any hope of recovery and soon died. On
+one day I saw in one Clearing Hospital in the town
+four cases dying from gas gangrene; in the other Clearing
+Hospital, two cases <i>in articulo mortis</i> from the same
+trouble; and in my own, one other case. Seven cases
+dying on one day from gas gangrene! None of these
+had been operated upon. This will give some idea
+of the formidable character of this complication.</p>
+
+<p>None but the very serious cases were sent to me.
+Many cases of gas gangrene were evacuated early and
+sent to the Base Hospitals. Most of my cases came
+from one or other of the Clearing Hospitals in this town.
+Some arrived direct from the Field Ambulances. In
+every amputation for gas gangrene performed at this
+hospital the limb was absolutely dead and beyond the
+possibility of any treatment short of amputation. All
+the patients were in an extremely grave state, and
+their general condition was in every case very bad. I
+cannot picture any worse surgical subject than these
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>men with gas gangrene. Numbers of them were in too
+low a state to admit of a general anæsthetic, and here
+the necessary operations were performed under conduction
+anæsthesia.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. F——, an eminent French surgeon in charge
+of the French wounded in this town, saw many of
+my cases before, during, and after operation. I had
+the privilege also of seeing his gangrene cases at this
+time. He had amongst the French wounded the same
+experience as mine. Both of us had German wounded
+to treat, and here also we met dead limbs from gas
+gangrene. We were both of the opinion that the
+Germans at this place were also up against a very
+virulent “culture” here, that of the anærobe. Some
+wounded French refugees were brought into this
+hospital at this period, and some of these had gas
+gangrene. The serious character of gas gangrene at
+this time could only be recognised at the front. The
+serious cases were retained here for operation. I am
+of the opinion that all cases of gangrene should be
+treated at the front at the nearest Clearing Hospital,
+and that no case should be sent to the Base till the
+gangrene had disappeared, subject, of course, as always,
+to the military situation. All the wounded admitted
+to this town—French, British, and German—came
+from the same area of the battle front.</p>
+
+<p>In many of the cases of gas gangrene bones were
+badly shattered and pulverised, splinters of bone were
+lying in surrounding muscles, or had been driven out
+through the skin. Important nerves were injured,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>torn, or compressed in many of them. Important
+blood-vessels were frequently, but not invariably,
+injured. In some, big vessels had been torn through;
+in others, arteries and nerves were compressed by displaced
+fragments of bone. The wounds were dirty
+in most cases. The skin was black and lacerated, and
+muscles were extruded and covered with coagulated
+blood clots.—Wound full of blood clots, and containing
+at times pieces of khaki cloth, shrapnel fragments,
+nickel casing of bullets, gravel, and, in two cases, bits of
+rock.—So runs the record in my notes. There were,
+however, cases in which the bullet had drilled an
+apparently clean hole through a joint, like the wrist
+or ankle, without much apparent destruction to bone.
+In such cases one would not expect gas gangrene; yet
+it sometimes occurred.</p>
+
+<p>Gas gangrene is encouraged by tight bandaging,
+and many of the cases had a bandage applied all too
+firmly. When a man is wounded in a trench his mate
+frequently applies the first-aid dressing, and fixes it
+like a tourniquet. This could perhaps be obviated
+by making the bandage of the first field-dressing a
+little wider than at present. A narrow bandage tends
+to become cord-like.</p>
+
+<p>All the cases of gas gangrene had a very penetrating
+putrefactive smell, which is quite characteristic. The
+area of advancing gangrene is preceded by an œdematous
+zone, which fades in one direction to the area of healthy
+skin and in the direction towards the wound to a dullish
+injected area which crackles on palpation. Nearer
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>the wound the skin is purplish and dark. Around
+the edges of the usually jagged wound the tissues were
+black or greenish-black. Extravasated blood undermined
+the skin all round the wound. The wound itself
+was full of blood clots. The limb distal to the wound
+was swollen, greenish-black, covered with green blebs,
+cold, insensitive, and pulseless in the “dead” limbs.
+Frequently toes and fingers were quite black. In
+other serious cases there might be a little warmth or a
+slight pulse. If any case showed either of these two
+favourable signs, an attempt was made to save the
+limb, and was in many cases successful. The gangrene
+did not spread up a limb in an even circle. For example,
+it might reach anteriorly to the lower third of the
+thigh, and posteriorly be at or well above the fold of the
+buttock. This was due to the extravasated blood
+lying more towards the dependent parts and to gravity.
+In the upper arm the gangrene travelled rapidly up
+the inner side along the course of the big blood-vessels.
+The invasion spread upwards; very little crackling
+was felt below the site of the wound. The circulation
+below seemed to be rapidly cut off, and that portion of
+the limb underwent the changes associated with a
+complete circulatory block. Wounds of the thigh with
+shattering of the femur, wounds of the elbow-joint
+and of the metatarsus were very prone to develop this
+gangrene. Some of the cases were admitted within
+thirty-six hours after receipt of the wound, with well-marked
+gangrene.</p>
+
+<p>In every case of amputation performed there was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>nothing else to be done in order to save life. The
+limbs were dead. In many of these cases important
+blood-vessels were torn, crushed, or compressed, and
+when the vessels were injured the gangrene developed
+more quickly and spread more rapidly. It is regrettable
+that one had to perform so many amputations at this
+time, but it is a matter for congratulation that so many
+lives were saved. One of the cases died suddenly
+twelve hours after a disarticulation at the shoulder-joint.
+Another one died three days after amputation
+at the hip-joint, from gangrene which progressed
+steadily on to the lower abdomen. There were, in
+addition, five deaths from gangrene following wounds
+of the extremities. These five were admitted in a dying
+condition, and passed away two to four hours after
+admission. One could do nothing for them surgically.
+Other cases died at the other Clearing Hospitals in the
+town. It was a sad and mournful experience seeing
+these fine young men die.</p>
+
+<p>These cases of gas gangrene were all bad surgical
+subjects, for in addition to the gangrene, loss of blood,
+privation, and exposure subsequent to being wounded,
+their wounds were dangerous and mutilating, and the
+transportation to the hospital was, sometimes, necessarily
+an agonising ordeal. This will show that our Clearing
+Hospitals at the front should be well and thoroughly
+equipped with all modern appliances for the treatment
+of shock, and a staff fully alive to this clamant necessity.
+A Clearing Hospital cannot to-day remain as an administrative
+unit only.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span></p>
+
+<p>Another complication of our wounds at this time
+was tetanus (or the so-called lock-jaw). When it was
+recognised that the bacillus of tetanus was also found
+in the soil of France and Flanders, efficient measures
+were at once adopted to combat its terrible effects.
+Accordingly anti-tetanic serum was provided at all the
+Base Hospitals, Clearing Hospitals, and Ambulances, and
+every man wounded in France or Flanders to-day gets
+an injection of this serum within twenty-four hours of
+the receipt of the wound. No deaths from tetanus
+have occurred since these measures have been adopted.</p>
+
+<p>Tetanus caused many deaths at the beginning of
+the war, not only amongst our own soldiers, but also
+amongst the Belgians, French, and Germans. When
+tetanus manifests itself, when the convulsions and
+muscular spasms come on, it is a terrible malady to
+treat, and most of the cases die. At this time the
+injection of anti-tetanic serum does not ensure a recovery,
+but if this serum is given to every wounded man, then
+none will develop tetanus, and that is why none of the
+wounded men are asked if they will have the “lock-jaw
+injection.” At the front there is no time for conscientious
+objectors.</p>
+
+<p>Shrapnel wounds were always bad; the round
+bullets of lead always ripped and tore the tissues about
+so terribly. The Mauser bullet did not cause nearly
+so much damage, but it sometimes produced very
+lacerating wounds. The Mauser bullet “turns over”
+when travelling through a limb, and this turning means
+tearing of tissues on the path of the bullet, and often a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>huge jagged wound like that produced by an explosive
+bullet.</p>
+
+<p>It has been said that we are treating wounds of
+an eighteenth-century character with twentieth-century
+technique. The eighteenth-century battle wounds
+were inflicted at close range, and so are many of the
+wounds inflicted to-day.</p>
+
+<p>At Crecy and Agincourt both sides used arrows.
+The aviators of the Allies and the enemy carry steel
+darts which they spin down on the foe below. Bows
+have been used in the trenches to send inflammable
+arrows into the opposing lines. The Roman soldier
+advanced to close combat behind a shield held on his
+left arm, and shields have been used at certain observation
+spots by the Germans and in the Russian trenches;
+our Allies have at times used spades for a similar purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Bombards were employed at Crecy, and bombards
+have come to their own again in the trenches from
+Switzerland to the sea. Hand grenades were employed
+in the Peninsular War, and are employed to-day in this
+War of the Nations. Our men attack the enemy and
+the enemy attack us with bayonets as in the days of
+the Crimea and the Peninsula, and our riflemen pick
+off the enemy by long-distance fire, and also fire at close
+range into solid masses of them. Even the armour of
+old days is represented on modern fields of battle, for
+the French Cuirassier goes into action with a brass
+cuirass and helmet; and a French infantry officer of my
+acquaintance has worn a light shirt of chain-mail
+extending from his neck to beyond his hips, all through
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>this campaign, and he said that it had saved his life
+on more than one occasion. In one <i>magasin</i> in Rouen
+shirts of beautifully made chain-mail can be purchased,
+and the shopkeeper told me that he had sold hundreds
+to French soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>The hardships of the Crimean trenches—cold,
+rheumatism, and frostbite—have been repeated on the
+Yser. Gangrene was rampant amongst the wounded
+of Wagram, Austerlitz, and Borodino, and amongst the
+French and British wounded at Vittoria, Salamanca,
+Badajos, and other great battles of the Peninsula, and it
+has startlingly reappeared on the Aisne and in Flanders.</p>
+
+<p>Historians of that day refer to it as hospital
+gangrene, or the gangrene so common after any surgical
+operation or wound of that time. It may, on the other
+hand, have been the same gas gangrene that has ominously
+complicated so many of our wounds in France
+and Flanders. The bacillus which produces this
+gangrene may belong, for all we know to the contrary,
+to a very old family of bacilli, who would look upon
+pedigrees dating to William the Conqueror with an
+aristocratic contempt when his own stretched back to
+the beginning of time.</p>
+
+<p>There is one feature of war as carried on to-day
+which is quite new, and that is by poison gases and by
+poisoning wells and water supplies. In West Africa
+the Germans have been proved indisputably and by
+their own admissions to have poisoned wells and water
+supplies, and the whole world stands amazed and
+aghast at the devilish and inhuman Germans who set
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>free poison gases to overwhelm and suffocate British,
+French, and Belgian soldiers in the trenches. This
+diabolical and ghastly method of murder is without
+parallel in history, and the bloodily-minded men who
+conceived and carried out this sinister, ferocious thing
+will live accursed all their days and be a name of scorn
+and loathing for ever.</p>
+
+<p>Although the civil hospital at Bethune was such a
+grim place of crowded wounded, it was yet the scene
+of much humour. We had wounded men belonging to
+many different countries, and the nuns were very
+interested in all the odd types. Off one of the large
+French wards there was a small room holding eight
+beds, and a nun brought me in one day to see the curious
+occupants ranged in beds alongside each other. There
+were a Senegalese, an Algerian, a Zouave, an Alpine
+Chasseur, a Turco, a native of Madagascar, a man of
+the Foreign legion, and a Frenchman. I think that the
+nuns always kept this ward “International.” It was
+their little joke, and visitors were always shown this
+ward. The patients themselves enjoyed the <i>mélange</i>.
+The courtyard of the hospital was a great meeting-place
+for our convalescent soldiers with the French convalescents,
+and they used to sit about on benches
+surrounded by an admiring lot of French women from
+the town. We also had a fair number of German
+wounded on our hands, and one of them at this time
+was terribly ill, suffering from the after-effects of gas
+gangrene of the foot following on a bullet wound of the
+ankle joint. His foot was amputated, and he had a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>struggle for some days to keep going, but eventually
+pulled through. The wounded German soldiers were
+very tractable and easy to manage. They were obedient,
+gave no trouble, and seemed grateful. I cannot say the
+same of the two wounded German officers I had. Both
+were slight wounds, and ought not really to have been
+sent to this hospital at all. They were truculent and
+overbearing to the nuns and orderlies, and behaved
+like cads. The German has no sense of humour. He
+takes himself very seriously, and that amuses us. He
+thinks and says that we are fools, and that also amuses
+us. A German once said that the English would always
+be fools, and that the Germans would never be gentlemen.
+This is most obviously correct. We asked a
+German sergeant-major who had been captured if the
+Hymn of Hate was really popular in Germany. The
+sergeant-major in civil life was a school teacher. He
+wore big spectacles and had a rough beard, and was
+altogether a very serious-minded man. He assured us
+that the German hate was a very real one, and he took
+the hymn very seriously. Lissauer, its author, is said
+to be a serious man also, and has he not been awarded
+the Cross of the Red Eagle by the All Highest himself?
+We laugh at the hymn, and this makes the German
+mad. Certainly we must be fools to laugh at the
+Hymn of Hate. The words inspire and enthral the
+Teuton, and the music uplifts his sentimental soul to
+the Empyrean.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“We love as one, we hate as one.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">We have one foe, and one alone—England.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span></p>
+
+<p>The German considers this to be a purely German
+hymn, breathing the spirit of the Fatherland—unending
+hate. It is his song, and to sing it does him good.
+You can then understand the expression of blank
+amazement on the face of our captured schoolmaster—the
+sergeant-major with the spectacles and beard—when
+he was told that the Hymn of Hate was sung with
+gusto in the music halls of London and Paris, and was
+received by the audience with shrieking sounds of
+applause.</p>
+
+<p>The Hymn of Hate sung by an Englishman in an
+English music hall! Donnerwetter! He could not
+understand. He had no sense of humour.</p>
+
+<p>A Prussian officer was captured in November with
+about fifteen men, and I saw him marched in shortly
+after the capture. He looked arrogant, and one instinctively
+took a dislike to him, he was so obviously
+stamped “bounder.”</p>
+
+<p>His revolver was in its pouch on his belt. We had
+forgotten to take it, and he had forgotten that it was
+there. Our prisoner spoke English very well, and said
+that “he wished he had been shot. He was for ever
+and ever disgraced at being made a prisoner. His
+regiment would not have him again as an officer.”
+The impression we formed, who were standing
+round listening, was that this whining bounder seemed
+to feel it a particular disgrace to be a prisoner of the
+hated English. An English officer in charge at this
+particular place here went up to our snarling Prussian
+who wished “that he had been killed” and said: “I
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>see we have omitted to take over your revolver. It
+is still in your pouch and probably loaded—sure to be.
+You say you are sorry you were not killed. Well, go
+off five paces over there and blow your damned head
+off with your own gun. I won’t interfere with you,
+and none of us will mourn for you.” The Prussian
+shut up like an oyster. We all laughed, and the
+soldiers round enjoyed it hugely. The eyes of the
+man blazed with fury, but he made no movement
+towards that five paces off, and handed over his revolver
+to our English officer, who refused to touch it,
+and called on a soldier to take it.</p>
+
+<p>The Prussian did not see the humour of the situation,
+and “there’s the humour on’t” old Falstaff would
+have said.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus22" style="max-width: 43.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus22.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Trenches in Flanders.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>A few days after the sinking of the <i>Emden</i> the news
+reached the British and French in the trenches. The
+French were as delighted as we were. In the Argonne
+an advanced French trench was separated by only the
+width of a road from an advanced German trench.
+The officer in command of the French trench wrote out
+the news of the <i>Emden</i> fight on a piece of paper and
+tied this paper round a stone, which he flung into the
+German trench. It was received with guttural cries
+of annoyance. Shortly after this time from the German
+trench came another stone with a piece of paper inscribed,
+“Monsieur, go to Hell.” The French officer,
+ever polite and determined to have the last word, sent
+back this note:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Bosches</span>,—I have been to many places. I
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>have been invited to visit many places in my time, but
+this is the first time that I have been invited to visit
+the German headquarters.”</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>There is a society in London called the “Society
+for Lonely Soldiers.” Its object is to be of some
+assistance to soldiers who have no relations or friends
+and are quite alone in the world. A young lady of this
+society sent a parcel of comforts to the British prison
+camp in Germany, and addressed the parcel to “The
+loneliest British soldier in Germany.”</p>
+
+<p>Some weeks afterwards a reply was received from
+the German officer in command of the camp. “Madam,
+your gifts have been impartially distributed amongst all
+the prisoners. We were unable to decide which was
+the <i>loveliest</i> British soldier in camp.” Imagine a
+spectacled old German officer methodically scrutinising
+all the British prisoners to ascertain which was the
+“loveliest” one!</p>
+
+<p>Apropos of humour, read this incident reported by
+“Eye-witness” from the front. “One wounded
+Prussian officer of a particularly offensive and truculent
+type, which is not uncommon, expressed the greatest
+contempt for our methods: ‘You do not fight. You
+murder!’ he said. ‘If it had been straightforward,
+honest fighting we should have beaten you, but my
+regiment never had a chance from the first. There
+was a shell every ten yards. Nothing could live in
+such a fire.’”</p>
+
+<p>This from one of the apostles of frightfulness!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span></p>
+
+<p>Now read this concluding sentence in a letter from
+a German lady of high social position to a Russian
+lady:</p>
+
+<p>“We wish to carry in our hearts an undying hatred,
+and we utterly reject all useless verbiage on ‘humanity.’</p>
+
+<p>“To mothers and to German women this hate gives a
+sort of satisfaction without which our hearts would not
+be able to support,” etc. etc.</p>
+
+<p>Read this order of the day, dated 26th August 1914,
+from General Stenger, Brigadier of the 88th Brigade,
+14th Baden Army Corps. (This document is quite
+authentic, and is at present in the hands of the
+French War Office.) This is the translation: “The
+Brigade on setting out to-day will make no prisoners; all
+prisoners will be killed. The wounded, with or without
+arms, will be put to death. Prisoners, even in
+large organised units, will be put to death. No living
+man must remain in our rear.”</p>
+
+<p>More will be heard of this document at the end of
+the war. It is a prized possession of the French just
+now.</p>
+
+<p>Yet our wounded Prussian officer, as related above,
+objected to our murderous artillery fire, and said that
+“we do not fight, we murder.” In spite of the tragic
+side the incident has some humour.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Ludwig Ganghofer, a Bavarian Court journalist,
+recently described a visit which he had paid to a
+German hospital in Lille. He there saw some wounded
+British prisoners. Two caught his eye, and thus he
+writes:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span></p>
+
+<p>“As I regarded these two sulky pups of the British
+lion, I had a feeling as if every hair on my head stood
+on end. This unpleasant irritation only ceased when
+I had turned my German back on the sons of civilised
+Albion, and looked again at suffering human beings.”</p>
+
+<p>“Suffering human beings” is good; our two unfortunate
+countrymen were not human beings. They
+were pups of the British lion—young lions, in fact.
+The German appellation for us is improving. Some
+weeks ago we were “Swine dogs,” now we are “Young
+lions.” Ganghofer is the Bavarian Court journalist.
+One wonders if that feudal power keeps a court jester.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br>
+<span class="smaller">SOME MEDICAL ODDS AND ENDS.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<h3>FUNCTIONAL BLINDNESS.</h3>
+
+<p>At Bethune some of us met for the first time in this
+war cases of functional temporary blindness, and many
+other cases were met with at various points of the
+front.</p>
+
+<p>The following example will give an idea of the
+condition. A young officer, nineteen years of age,
+was standing by a haystack in the north of France
+when a large Black Maria burst near him, rolled him
+over, and plastered him with clay, but did not kill him.
+The <i>concussion</i> had thrown him down. He remained
+unconscious for half an hour, and when he woke to
+consciousness he discovered he was “blind.” His
+mental state then was terrible. He cried out, “Oh, why
+wasn’t I killed?” “Won’t some one carry me out and
+put me on the parapet of a trench so that I may be
+killed?” His grief was pathetic, and one can easily
+understand it. A careful examination was made of
+the interior of the eyes with the ophthalmoscope and
+nothing was found wrong. He was assured by the
+medical officers that he would certainly recover after
+perhaps a week or two of blindness. He was quiet
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>and composed after this, but was a little bit suspicious
+that we were only trying to cheer him up. One medical
+officer then explained to him what sort of blindness it
+was: that it was due to concussion of the nerve of sight,
+and the delicate structures at the ball of the eye; that
+nothing was destroyed, and that a complete rest would
+bring back his vision. Next day he was transferred
+by hospital train to the Base <i>en route</i> for England.
+This note, unknown to him, was pinned on his coat:
+“Functional blindness. Any medical officer handling
+this officer on Hospital Train, Base Hospital, or Hospital
+Ship, please tell him that he will fully recover his sight.”
+Knowing the kind-hearted nature of the medical profession,
+one can be sure that he was cheered up all the
+way to England. I received a letter from this officer’s
+mother some weeks after, saying that her son had
+completely recovered his vision, and was as well as
+ever.</p>
+
+<h3>NERVE CONCUSSION</h3>
+
+<p>Nerve concussion is a pathological condition that
+has received more attention in this war than at any
+previous time. A young Fusilier at La Bassée was
+hit by a bullet through the fleshy part of the forearm.
+The wound was a purely flesh one and no important
+nerve could have been struck. He had paralysis of
+the wrist and hand, due to concussion of the important
+nerves of the forearm. The bullet in its course did not
+strike these nerves. He got completely better in eight
+weeks.</p>
+
+<p>A Gordon Highlander was struck by a bullet in the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>right buttock. No important nerve was struck, yet
+he had paralysis of the limb owing to concussion of the
+sciatic nerve. He got better by rest in bed and massage
+of the muscles. A soldier of the Wiltshire Regiment
+was rolled over by the concussion of a bursting shell.
+He retained consciousness, but could not get up or move
+his right arm. The right side of his body was paralysed.
+He got better by rest. A Bedfordshire sergeant got a
+bullet wound through the upper arm, and paralysis of
+certain muscles supplied by nerves in the vicinity of the
+track of the bullet. It was thought that the nerves
+were divided, and after the wound had healed the nerves
+were exposed at an operation intending to join the
+severed ends. The nerves were found to be uninjured,
+and the incision in the skin was closed up. He made
+a complete recovery.</p>
+
+<p>There is also the story of the soldier who suddenly
+recovered his voice in the presence of King George.
+The story is going the rounds of the hospitals, and it is
+said that His Majesty was extraordinarily interested
+in the phenomenon. This soldier was taken prisoner
+by the Germans during our retreat from Belgium.
+He was picked off the field in a dazed condition and
+unable to speak. He was interned later in a prison
+camp in Germany and was all this time quite unable
+to speak. When the exchange of permanently disabled
+prisoners of war was recently made between England
+and Germany, this man was sent back as permanently
+incapacitated on account of being dumb. He was
+admitted to a hospital near London. One day the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>King visited the hospital, and this man on getting
+up from his chair as the King entered the ward, inadvertently
+touched a heating pipe which was then
+very hot. He at once exclaimed “Damn,” and was
+able to speak perfectly afterwards. The King was
+very much interested. Was this an hysterical loss of
+voice or a concussion? It was a mental shock of some
+kind, and the recovery was due to the other shock of
+touching a hot pipe.</p>
+
+<p>I attended one young officer and three men who had
+been buried in the earth when their trench was blown
+up. The officer and one man were unconscious, and
+when the man recovered consciousness he was nervy
+and excitable. He had a startled, terrified expression,
+and when in bed he would peer round in a wild, anxious
+way, and then suddenly pull the blankets well over
+his head and curl up underneath as if anxious to shut
+out his surroundings, or what he thought were his
+surroundings. He seemed really to be living
+through some terrifying experiences of the past few
+days antecedent and up to the time when his
+trench was blown up and he was engulfed in the mud
+and <i>débris</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The officer recovered consciousness more slowly, and
+spoke in a curious staccato speech; his nerves were
+completely gone, and he had fine tremors of the
+lips and tongue and fingers. He told me that his
+memory had gone, that he had only a hazy recollection
+of recent things, which seemed far away
+and dim.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span></p>
+
+<h3>DEAF MUTISM.</h3>
+
+<p>Several cases of deaf mutism have occurred during
+the hard fighting near Ypres and La Bassée, and these
+are certainly very curious. The men so afflicted have
+written down that shells burst near them, that they
+were thrown down, and remembered nothing more for
+a time. On coming to again, they were deaf and dumb.
+These men also show other signs of nerve shock; they
+are restless, troubled with sleeplessness, and have
+anxious expressions. Generally all get completely well
+in a few weeks, but some of the cases remain mute for a
+much longer time.</p>
+
+<h3>LICE.</h3>
+
+<p>The medical officer at the front to-day has other
+duties besides those of attending to the sick and
+wounded. He is concerned with the prevention of
+disease, with water supplies, sanitation of billeting
+areas and camps, means to prevent frostbite, and so on.
+He has also to advise on methods of treating and
+avoiding vermin. Lice are, without a doubt, one of the
+terrors of war. These little beasts are not harmless.
+They take a high place in the sphere of destructive
+agents. I would group them in the class with shrapnel
+bombs and high explosives. Wherever many men are
+gathered closely together, and hygienic laws, owing to
+military needs, are in temporary abeyance, there will
+lice be found, constituting themselves one of the terrors
+of war. Officers and men get them, and once these
+pests gain entry to one’s wardrobe they entrench
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>themselves in their battalions and divisions, and require
+very drastic efforts to dislodge. In the early fighting
+in Flanders and in Northern France, on the Marne
+and Aisne, these beasts gave us great trouble. They
+are most active at night when one gets warm in bed.
+It is not the bite that counts, but, as the old French
+Countess once expressed it to a Minister of State, it
+is “toujours le promenade.” The promenading
+causes irritation and insomnia. Scratching produces
+excoriations of the skin, and then a whole lot of sequent
+complications. Lice are factors in the spread of
+typhus fever, and when typhus visits an army in the
+field it carries death and desolation to thousands.
+To illustrate the point read this extract from a letter
+written from an English hospital in Serbia: “The
+great scourge of this country is typhus fever. It was
+introduced by the Austrian prisoners at Christmas.
+Out of 2500 Austrian prisoners at Uskub, 1000 had died
+of fever and 1200 were down with it. It is a terrible
+disease, and is carried not by infection but by lice.
+One has to take tremendous precautions to avoid these
+creatures.”</p>
+
+<p>The majority of our wounded taken from the
+fighting line at La Bassée to the hospital at Bethune
+were infested with lice. Lice invaded the clothing
+of all who handled these poor fellows, and very drastic
+measures had to be taken to combat the scourge.</p>
+
+<p>The following story will illustrate the vitality of
+these nasty little beasts. Our Field Ambulance once
+stopped at a small town in Northern France and was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>billeted in a French convent. The good sisters allowed
+us the use of the schoolrooms, the kitchen, and some of
+the bedrooms. All the officers were anxious to get their
+shirts and linen washed. The laundrywoman duly
+appeared and boiled all these articles, and the sisters
+ironed them for us. On the afternoon of the ironing
+the Mother Superior and two sisters came to us in a
+state of excitement, talking rapidly, and evidently
+overcome with amazement. They explained that our
+shirts had been boiled and then dried in the open air.
+When they began to iron the necks of our shirts the
+lice sprang to life and were exceedingly active. They
+assured us solemnly that scores sprang to active life
+under the comfortable warmth of the hot iron. I do
+not doubt the story. The heat had matured the
+chitinous envelope in which the young lice lay, and
+out they came, joyous, active, and sportive on the nice
+warm surface. Hence the amazement, the uplifted
+hands, and the consternation of the good sisters. The
+riddle of their extermination has not yet been completely
+solved, but measures are in active progress.
+It is an unsavoury subject, but it is a very important
+one for troops in camp and in the field.</p>
+
+<h3>SHELL FUMES.</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Thou shalt not kill,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But do not strive</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Officiously to keep alive.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A great deal has been written on the effect of shell
+fumes in this war. So much is hearsay and so little
+really authentic, that one cannot dogmatise.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span></p>
+
+<p>One naval surgeon said that men exposed to fumes
+of bursting shells develop acute pneumonia, which
+proves fatal as a rule. This is supposed to be due to
+the nitric peroxide produced by the explosion.</p>
+
+<p>Artillery officers have told me that stories were going
+the round of the batteries that the Germans fired
+certain shells at our aeroplanes which, on bursting,
+set free certain gases which intoxicated the
+aviators.</p>
+
+<p>A French gunner-major circumstantially related
+that a German trench which had been heavily shelled
+with turpinite shells was found full of dead Germans,
+standing or sitting in life-like attitudes and with faces
+<i>quite black</i>. He said that the look-out man was lying
+in his natural attitude holding field-glasses to his eyes.
+He was apparently alive, but was really dead, stiff,
+and with black face and hands. These statements
+have not been confirmed, but the stories of similar
+incidents are many. There is no doubt that lyddite
+and melinite fumes can, when inhaled, produce sudden
+poisonous changes. I have myself seen British soldiers
+and German prisoners, after having been exposed to
+these fumes, come in with deeply yellow jaundiced
+skin. One man, in fact, looked exactly like a man
+suffering from acute jaundice.</p>
+
+<p>It is also said that the fumes induce drowsiness.
+Turpinite shells were employed at one stage of the war
+and are to be employed again. M. Turpin has recently
+been at the front with a French battery. Certainly
+turpinite does emit dangerous fumes. Many believe
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>that it is some form of cyanogen gas—allied to prussic
+acid.</p>
+
+<p class="tb">The force of these high explosives is well illustrated
+by an occurrence of 25th January. Previous to making
+an assault the Germans fired a mine under our front
+trench near the railway east of Cuinchy. The explosion
+hurled a piece of rail weighing 25 lbs. a distance
+of over a mile, into a field close to where some of our
+men were working.</p>
+
+<p>It is reported that on 1st February the detonation
+of one of our lyddite shells in the enemy trenches on
+the embankment south of the canal, threw a German
+soldier right across the railway and the canal amongst
+our men on the north side of the latter.</p>
+
+<p>At Fort Condé, on the Aisne, the air concussion of a
+bursting shell from a French 75 mm. lifted a large
+four-wheeled country waggon bodily out of a yard
+and planted it on the roof of a barn. The waggon was
+not injured. A bursting shell is the very incarnation
+of violence. Lord Fisher said that “The Essence of
+War is Violence. Moderation in War is Imbecility.
+Hit first. Hit hard. Hit everywhere.” The big
+shells to-day do all this.</p>
+
+<p>The fumes emitted by bursting charges of lyddite,
+melinite, or turpinite must not be confused with the
+poison gases sent out over our men by the Germans.
+The lyddite and melinite are put in the shells for a
+definite object which is permitted by the Hague Convention,
+and by the opinion of mankind generally.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>Their object is to burst the shell at the desired time
+and distance, and plaster the enemy with the iron or
+shrapnel. They are not intended to kill, and do not
+kill by poisonous fumes. The German poison gas
+is intended to kill, and does produce intolerable agony
+and lingering deaths, and for this the German stands
+accused before High Heaven.</p>
+
+<h3>NEURASTHENIA OR “NERVES.”</h3>
+
+<p>Many officers and some men have been sent back
+from the front in France and Flanders suffering from
+Nerves. These men are not “nervous” as the public
+generally understand that term. They are brave
+and courageous men who are anxious to do their duty.
+They are, moreover, men who have done their duty
+in the face of a determined foe, have endured great
+hardships and discomforts in the trenches and batteries,
+and have faced death in all the many hellish shapes
+that it assumes to-day. I said “many officers and
+some men” have been so afflicted, and it is true that
+the officer is much more prone to get “nerves” than is
+the simple soldier. The life of the officer is one of
+responsibility and worry, but the soldier’s mental lot
+is simpler—he just does what he is told and has
+“not to reason why.” The education and upbringing
+of the officer are different, as a rule, from that of the
+soldier, and heredity has an influence on a man’s
+nervous organisation. In civil life anyone can call to
+mind certain boys and girls who are more “nervous”
+than others. I do not mean more afraid of danger or
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>more effeminate, but more likely to be exalted or
+depressed by certain circumstances than their more
+stolid neighbours. What is true of homes and of
+schools is equally true of nations. Unreal though it
+sounds, there is no doubt that the Germans are more
+emotional than the French, and German leaders know
+full well the emotional side of their people. The German
+is easily exalted and can be easily depressed. The
+Frenchman can be made furiously angry when he is
+affronted or insulted, but he is not easily depressed,
+and he is too cautious to be easily exalted. The German
+soldier and people must be strengthened and mentally
+sustained by stories of German victories and prowess,
+but the Frenchman, like the Englishman, is most
+formidable when he knows the worst there is to know
+and is “up against things.”</p>
+
+<p>It may be that our officers who develop neurasthenia
+at the front are more emotional and imaginative
+than those who do not, but they are no less
+courageous. An officer was sent to England for
+neurasthenia, and felt ashamed to tell his friends that
+he was sent back as his “nerve was gone.” He was
+not in the list of wounded, yet his brain and nervous
+system had received a wound as much as the man with
+a bullet-hole through his shoulder, and the treatment
+for these “mental wounds” is like that for most other
+wounds, “time and rest,” but the mental wound
+also requires quietness. The officer with the mental
+wound, the nerve shock, the neurasthenia, cannot be
+treated successfully in the general wards of a noisy
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>hospital. He must be put in quiet and peaceful
+surroundings and live in an atmosphere free from
+noise, bustle, and commotion. His treatment must
+also be directed by physicians who are authorities on
+this subject. A successful general practitioner or a
+renowned obstetrician are not likely to achieve brilliant
+results in treating neurasthenia.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately the medical profession has already
+arranged special provision for these nerve cases, and
+the results, I am sure, will be eminently good.</p>
+
+<p>At Bethune one able artillery officer was brought into
+the Clearing Hospital suffering from neurasthenia. He
+had been through the retreat, the fighting on the Marne
+and Aisne, and at La Bassée, and had done splendid
+service with his battery, and had been promoted.
+When I saw him he was walking up and down a room like
+a caged animal. I wished him good morning, and he
+pulled up suddenly in his stride, gazed at me with widely
+open eyes, and replied in a hesitating staccato voice,
+“G-g-good m-m-morning, doctor.” He had never
+stuttered before. Then away he went up and down
+again. I got him to sit down on a box and told him to
+light his pipe and talk about himself. He filled his
+pipe with difficulty, stuffing the tobacco into the bowl
+with trembling and agitated fingers. He broke several
+wooden matches in trying to light them. He had lost
+the fine, practised discrimination necessary to rub a
+match on the side of the box, and he “jabbed” his
+match hard on it. I lit a match and gave it to him, as I
+was interested to see how he would light the pipe. He
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>let that match fall. I lit another, and with this he
+burned his finger. I then held a lighted match over
+his pipe, and in a jerky way he managed to light the
+tobacco; but he could not smoke properly, and the pipe
+soon went out. In the same jerky way he told me that he
+was forty-four years of age and had never been ill before.
+He was a good rifle shot, and had killed big game in
+India. He was a fair billiard player, and had been a
+temperate man all his life in all things. Talking
+in his spasmodic fashion, he had to stop for a word,
+and he then waved his hand about and frowned, as if
+angry with himself for having forgotten it. Up till a
+week ago he had been in perfect health, although the
+“strain” of the war had been tremendous; then one
+of his brother officers and a sergeant had been killed
+close beside him, and his guns had to be moved to another
+position under a heavy fire. He could not sleep
+that night, and the firing of the guns, which previously
+had not troubled him in the least, now worried him.
+Next day he could not eat. In a few days he was a
+physical and mental wreck. He was sent to England,
+and I heard that he had made a complete recovery.</p>
+
+<p>One officer developed neurasthenia on the Aisne.
+His regiment had done brilliantly, but had suffered
+severe losses. The officer said that he was going to
+blow his brains out, so he was invalided into the hands
+of the doctors and later made a good recovery. He
+was suffering from the effects of strain and mental
+shock.</p>
+
+<p>Another officer on the staff was standing close by his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>chief when a shell fell near, killing his chief outright.
+The staff officer had to be sent home for neurasthenia.</p>
+
+<p>Our wounded often show signs of neurasthenia.
+I well remember at the hospital at Bethune one man who
+had had to have his arm off at the shoulder joint for a
+bad shrapnel wound. He was dangerously ill and semi-conscious
+for several days. When he had fully roused
+to his surroundings and the knowledge of his weakness
+he was like a little child, crying and begging me
+to get him away from the sound of the firing. He said
+that he would be happy if only he could get away to
+some place where he would not hear the sound of the
+guns. On the day the German aeroplane dropped a
+bomb near the hospital the windows of the building
+shook and rattled with the concussion, and this poor
+devil screamed aloud with terror and tried to get out of
+bed and crawl away—anywhere from the sound of the
+firing.</p>
+
+<p>The French nursing sisters told me that the wounded
+Frenchmen work themselves into a terrible state of
+excitement in hospital when the firing is very brisk.
+They beg and beg to be taken away to the south of
+France, as far away as possible from the sound of conflict.</p>
+
+<p>These were all brave men with injured nervous
+systems.</p>
+
+<h3>SMALL ARM AMMUNITION.</h3>
+
+<p>The Germans have charged the British, French,
+Russians, and Belgians with using Dum-Dum bullets.
+The Austrians have made the same charge against the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>Serbians and Montenegrins. The Triple Entente and its
+Allies have accused the Germans and Austrians of firing
+Dum-Dum bullets—so there you are.</p>
+
+<p>The Dum-Dum bullet was first made at Dum-Dum,
+near Calcutta. It was a Lee-Enfield bullet with an
+imperfect nickel sheath. This nickel or cupro-nickel
+sheath in the Dum-Dum stops at the “shoulder” of
+the bullet, and the point is therefore bare lead, a continuation
+of the core of the bullet. Some modifications
+of the Dum-Dum exist. By rubbing the point of a nickel-coated
+Lee-Enfield bullet on a rough stone the cover is
+rubbed off, exposing the core of lead. A saw or file can
+make incisions in the long axis of the bullet exposing
+the lead this way, but leaving the tip covered with
+nickel. The destiny of a Dum-Dum is to break up when
+it strikes a bone. If it strikes a bone at a high rate of
+velocity it fragments and rips and tears the bone and
+surrounding soft structures. It is supposed to have
+greater “stopping power” against an infantry charge
+than an undeformed bullet. This supposition is incorrect.
+Certainly a Dum-Dum in traversing a limb or
+the chest can cause terrible and widespread destruction.
+In wounds inflicted by a Dum-Dum bits of the lead core
+and casing are scattered in various directions. But,—and
+this is important,—the same thing can be found
+in a wound inflicted by an undeformed Lee-Metford,
+Lebel, or Mauser bullet. The only certain proof of the
+employment of the Dum-Dums is to find them in the
+trenches captured from the enemy, or in the cartridge
+belts of wounded or prisoners. Again, a man may
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>have a bullet wound with a small entrance hole and
+a large, gaping, jagged exit. One unaccustomed to
+bullet wounds would immediately say that such a wound
+was caused by an explosive bullet. But it can be caused
+by the ordinary Lee-Metford, Lebel, and Mauser bullets.
+I have seen these wounds frequently amongst Germans,
+French, and British. The explanation is that the bullet
+on striking a bone often carries along with it a fragment,
+large or small, and it is this fragment of bone that tears
+out a passage to the exit wound. The German bullet
+is easily extracted from the cartridge. It is almost
+impossible to extract the Lee-Metford bullet without
+strong instruments. The Germans have made use of this
+fact to extract the bullet from the cartridge and put it
+back “upside down,” that is, with the nickel point inside
+the metal cartridge case, and the base with its exposed
+lead core outwards. Such a bullet on striking a bone
+expands and fragments, and causes great damage.
+I am not repeating a rumour when I make this statement.
+I have seen these cartridges with the inverted
+bullets in the belts of German prisoners captured in the
+trenches. Other surgeons have seen them also. The
+French say that it is a common practice amongst the
+Germans, and so did our men at Ypres. One German
+prisoner on the Yser when confronted with these bullets
+taken from his own belt, admitted having used them.
+He said that his company officer told him that they were
+useful to break down barbed-wire entanglements!</p>
+
+<p>There is one interesting point about the German
+bullet, and that is its property of spinning on its short
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>axis when it strikes an object. The centre of gravity
+of the German bullet is low down on its base, owing to its
+long and tapering shoulder. It therefore turns over on
+reaching its object. I had on the Aisne one man of the
+Norfolk Regiment admitted with a tiny entrance wound
+between the great and second toes of the foot. The
+bullet was found lodged in the large heel bone, and its
+base was facing towards the entrance wound. It could
+not have entered the foot in that position, because the
+entrance wound was too small. A bullet spinning
+round when traversing a limb can cause considerably
+more damage than one that pursues a direct course,
+and this fact is important in brain injuries. The bullet
+penetrates the skull by a small punctured opening, and
+then whirls round and round inside the brain. It
+may then again strike the bone on the other side with its
+long axis and cause considerable shattering and bleeding.
+This spinning action of the Mauser was a thing that
+every surgeon had to remember when treating his
+wounded.</p>
+
+<p>The Hague Convention of 1907 prohibits “the use
+of projectiles calculated to cause unnecessary suffering.”
+The Hague Declarations of 1899 decide to “abstain
+from the use of bullets which expand or flatten easily
+in the human body,” such as bullets with a hard envelope
+which does not entirely cover the core or is pierced with
+incisions. The St. Petersburg Declaration of 1868
+agrees to abolish the use of “any projectile of a weight
+below 400 grams which is either explosive or charged
+with fulminating or inflammable substances.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span></p>
+
+<p>The <i>British Medical Journal</i> of 21st November 1914
+reports as follows on the subject of small arm ammunition:</p>
+
+<p>The British service ammunition is known technically
+as Mark <span class="allsmcap">VII.</span> ·303 S.A. Ammunition. The length of
+the bullet is 1·28 inches; weight, 174 grains; muzzle
+velocity, 2440 feet per second. The bullet is a pointed
+one with an envelope of cupro-nickel which completely
+covers the core except at the base. The ordinary
+German service ammunition is very similar. Length of
+bullet, 1·105 inches; weight, 154 grains; muzzle
+velocity, 2970 feet per second. This bullet is pointed,
+with a steel envelope coated with cupro-nickel covering
+the cone except at the base. Both bullets carry out
+the provisions of the Hague Convention.</p>
+
+<p>There is clear evidence that Germany has not
+confined herself solely to this unobjectionable ammunition.
+Her troops, both in Togoland and in France,
+have been proved to have used bullets with a soft core
+and hard, thin envelope not entirely covering the core,
+which type of bullet is expanding and therefore expressly
+prohibited by the Hague Convention.</p>
+
+<p>Such bullets, of no less than three types, were found
+on the bodies of dead native soldiers serving with the
+German armed forces against British troops in Togoland
+in August, and on the persons of German, European,
+and native armed troops captured by us in that colony.
+All the British wounded treated in the British hospitals
+during the operations in Togoland were wounded by
+soft-nosed bullets of large calibre, and the injuries which
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>these projectiles inflicted, in marked contrast to those
+treated by the British medical staff amongst the German
+wounded, were extremely severe, bones being shattered
+and the tissue so extensively damaged that amputation
+had to be performed. The use of these bullets was the
+subject of a written protest by the general officer
+commanding the British troops in Nigeria to the German
+acting governor of Togoland.</p>
+
+<p>Again at Gundelu, in France, on 19th September
+1914, soft-nosed bullets were found on the dead bodies
+of German soldiers of the Landwehr, and on the persons
+of soldiers of the Landwehr made prisoners of war by
+the British troops. One of these bullets has reached
+the War Office. It is undoubtedly expanding and
+directly prohibited by the Hague Convention. I am
+sure that Germany will be terribly upset at this, for
+Germany, we know, pays great respect to the articles
+of the Hague Convention!</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">WE LEAVE BETHUNE.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>One afternoon a German aeroplane dropped a bomb at
+the hospital gate, and a second one on a house near the
+gate. They burst with a terrific crash, shook the
+building and rattled the glass and startled us all. The
+same voyaging Taube dropped another bomb in the
+square of the city, and an old woman, a man, and a
+baby were struck. The old lady had to have her leg
+amputated and died on the succeeding day; the man
+received a shell wound in the back of the head and he
+died a few days afterwards; the baby was injured in
+the stomach and also died next day. One of our Army
+Service Corps men was struck by a piece of shell on the
+leg and received a serious wound. A corporal of the
+Army Service ran upstairs to me in the ward where I
+was busy dressing some cases and excitedly told me
+that his back was broken and that he thought he would
+soon be paralysed. We undressed him and found that
+a small piece of shell had made a slight wound on the
+muscles of the back, but that he was otherwise all right.
+He was reassured about the paralysis and the broken
+back. Two days afterwards another German aeroplane—or
+it may have been the same beast that had visited
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>us before—flew over the city and dropped some more
+bombs, killing some unfortunate people and injuring
+others.</p>
+
+<p>On the following morning at three o’clock I was in
+one of the wards admitting some wounded men just in
+from the trenches, when the unmistakable burst of a
+Black Maria was heard close at hand. The shell had
+burst not far from the hospital, and was followed by
+two more, one near the railway station, and one near
+the college not far away. The Germans had the range
+perfectly, and we expected a big bombardment. The
+authorities decided that Bethune was no longer a safe
+place for our Clearing Hospitals, and we were ordered
+to prepare for the evacuation of our wounded as soon
+as possible. This was soon done, and all were conveyed
+by ambulance motors to the hospital trains, with the
+exception of seven men. These men were all dying
+from severe injuries to the brain, and no good would
+be served by sending them down to the Base. So the
+seven poor fellows were put in beds alongside each
+other in one ward, and in three days they were dead,
+and buried in the now well-filled cemetery at Bethune.</p>
+
+<p>The two Clearing Hospitals in the city—British and
+Indian—were sent to Chocques, near Lillers.</p>
+
+<p>It was with a little heartache that I left Bethune
+and its good sisters. We had passed through days and
+nights of racking work and worry, and we had the
+satisfaction of feeling that we had all done our best.
+It is mournful to leave a place associated with many
+stirring episodes and with many warm friendships, for
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>in times like those at Bethune firm friendships were
+quickly made. In saying good-bye one seems to leave
+them behind for ever—and that is always sad.</p>
+
+<p>The nuns at this hospital were simply splendid all
+through, and I can quite understand how the religious
+sisters have come to their own again in France.</p>
+
+<p>From the earliest times and up till about eight years
+ago all the nursing in the French hospitals was done
+by sisters belonging to the various religious orders.
+Then came one of the big political upheavals for which
+France has been so noted in the past, and the nursing
+sisters gradually disappeared from the hospitals owing
+to the hostility of the State to the Church and all
+connected with it. The nursing sisters of these orders
+were at the time of this change well-trained medical
+and surgical nurses. As they were no longer able
+to exercise their professional skill, and no more
+of the younger nuns were trained in nursing, it
+followed that on the outbreak of war only the older
+nuns were capable of undertaking skilled nursing in
+the many hospitals. The demand for nurses was a
+clamant one, for from the very beginning of the
+war there were large casualties. It was said that the
+nursing by the lay sisters who succeeded the religious
+sisters was not of such a high order as in the old days
+owing to the absence of the strict and rigid discipline,
+the very fibre of the life of a sister in religion. I have
+heard this both from French surgeons and from visiting
+British surgeons.</p>
+
+<p>When the war broke out France was as ill prepared
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>in her military medical branch as we were, and she was
+suddenly confronted with the problem of handling and
+treating many thousands of wounded.</p>
+
+<p>M. Clemenceau, an ex-Premier of France and a
+Doctor of Medicine, is also the editor of <i>L’Homme
+Enchaîné</i>. At the outbreak of war this journal was
+known as <i>L’Homme Libre</i>, and Clemenceau so violently
+attacked the medical disorganisation and lack of preparation
+that the paper was promptly suppressed. It,
+however, emerged next day under its new title, <i>The
+Man in Chains</i>, and under this title appears daily in
+Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Clemenceau’s efforts, however, were continued, and
+France soon had everything in good going order. It
+was at this critical phase that the Franciscan sisters,
+and the sisters of other religious orders, quietly took
+their places beside the wounded French soldiers. Just
+as quietly they opened up their convents, churches,
+and buildings, warehouses, châteaux, cottages, railway
+waiting-rooms, and turned them into hospitals for
+the wounded and sick men. Working tirelessly night
+and day, knowing no fatigue and shrinking from
+no task or danger, and glorying in their mission, they
+performed marvels. The younger sisters were put to
+subordinate nursing duties, and so rigorously trained
+by the elder ones in the principles of nursing.</p>
+
+<p>These juniors are now very competent nurses,
+for they learn quickly amongst the ample material that
+war provides. The wounded French soldier loves and
+idolises the nursing sister. He demands her presence,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>and makes her his confidante. The nun is supremely
+happy to be back in her old place, and pets and humours
+the wounded soldier, soothes his ardent soul, and, by
+her skill, heals his wounds.</p>
+
+<p>I do not think that any future government of
+France will ever dare to oust the religious sisters from
+the hospitals. These quiet-voiced, simple-robed women,
+carrying help and compassionate pity in the welter of
+blood and slaughter, have come “to their own” again.</p>
+
+<p>When writing of the religious orders one naturally
+thinks of the priests of France, and one of the many
+interesting and instructive evolutions taking place
+during this war is that of the changing relation of the
+people and State towards the Catholic Church.</p>
+
+<p>One has only to be a little time with the French
+troops in the field to recognise and be impressed by
+their deep attachment to the Catholic Church. I
+visited many churches in France and Belgium during
+the earlier stages of the war, and at all hours, and have
+always found, sometimes few, sometimes many, Belgian
+and French soldiers on their knees and devoutly at
+prayer in the sacred buildings. Women, of course,
+were always to be seen there, but that was not surprising.
+It was surprising to see so many soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>The French soldier takes his religion seriously in
+these days, and is not ashamed, whenever the opportunity
+occurs, to enter a church and pray. It was
+rare to see a khaki soldier praying in church; one often
+saw them there on visits of curiosity gazing at the old
+windows and old scroll-work of the churches. The
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>British soldier will always attend a church parade,
+and he will be most reverent during a service, and will
+sing lustily and amen loudly; but a church parade is to
+him very often a drill, and Tommy cheerfully attends a
+drill parade because it is his duty to. In reading
+letters from British soldiers at the front and comparing
+them with those of French soldiers one cannot help
+being struck by the religious serious note pervading
+those of the latter, and its absence in the former. It
+may be that we are less emotional than the French,
+and as a nation are shy of writing of our inner selves.
+It was my duty once to censor the letters written by
+wounded men in a Clearing Hospital at the front. The
+letters were distinctly humorous at times; only two
+discussed matters of faith. In one a soldier was writing
+to his mother, and he said, “I pray every day as I
+promised you to. I pray standing up, and always time
+my prayer for three o’clock in the afternoon, for that
+is the time when the fellows over the way let off most
+of their big guns and rifles at us.” This man was
+either a wag and teasing his mother, or he really believed
+in the efficacy of surrounding himself with an atmosphere
+of prayer when the enemy fire was hottest.
+The other fervent letter was from a soldier who had
+received a slight shell wound of the scalp. His was
+a letter written to a clergyman near London. This
+warrior informed the clergyman that he prayed silently
+amongst his comrades, and daily read a passage out
+of his Testament. The letter ended up by asking
+the clergyman to send him some Woodbine cigarettes,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>as he, the writer, hadn’t had a smoke for a fortnight
+and saw no chance of getting one. I showed this
+letter to our field chaplain, who visited this Christian
+soldier in the ward. The chaplain told me afterwards
+that the man was absolutely destitute of any religious
+beliefs, and had never read a Testament in his life; and
+furthermore—that he had three packets of Woodbine
+cigarettes, and had also smoked a considerable number
+during the past fortnight.</p>
+
+<p>French officers have told me that before the war
+it was considered bad form for a military officer to
+attend Mass, and that an officer who attended Mass
+regularly need not expect promotion in the Army.
+Attending Mass is not considered bad form to-day, and
+soldiers of all grades from general to grenadier attend
+the services in the field. Was the religious trait there
+all the time, and only held back by the conventional
+strictness, or has the seriousness of the war compelled
+a little self-analysis and a return to the faith of their
+fathers? My impression is that the priests and the
+nursing sisters of the religious orders have helped to
+stir up this present state amongst a people who have
+always been, deep down, much attached to their Church
+and its religious observances. Even the Reign of
+Terror could not stamp out the influence of the Church
+in France, although it turned churches into meat marts
+and blacksmiths’ forges, and plastered their walls with
+“Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.” The French priest has
+no official status in the State. He is simply a citizen,
+and is liable, like all other citizens, to be mobilised for
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>military duty. Over 20,000 French priests and brothers
+of various orders are serving with the French colours
+in this war. I have spoken to French priests about
+this law that compels them to serve as soldiers. They
+do not cavil at it, and, in fact, prefer to act the patriot’s
+part, for the priest is every bit a good Frenchman.
+Be the priest a simple soldier in the trenches, with
+battery, commissariat, ammunition, or brancardiers, he
+is nevertheless still a priest, and is at all times ready
+and eager to exercise his priestly duties. He has
+proved himself time and time again to be a cool, intrepid,
+and reliable soldier, and he has also proved himself
+in the hour of trial a comfort and spiritual help to those
+about to die. One has heard of hundreds of instances
+in this war when the priest, serving as soldier in the
+ranks, has conducted Mass in some broken-down
+cottage or barn in the firing zone, buried his dead
+comrades with the rites of the Church, and carried
+out the last offices to the dying. One of the ablest of
+the French artillery officers, now in charge of a battery,
+is a priest, and in times of peace is a well-known Abbé
+and writer on theology. Another learned Abbé and
+a great preacher was mobilised in July, and was badly
+wounded at Charleroi. When lying stricken on the
+ground he heard a mortally wounded soldier calling
+him. The Abbé painfully crawled to the dying soldier
+and administered the last office, and while doing so
+was again wounded. He was later on conveyed by
+hospital train to Paris. President Poincaré had heard
+the story, and met the train on its arrival in Paris. He
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>went into the carriage where lay the badly wounded
+and apparently dying Abbé, and decorated him with the
+Legion d’Honneur. I am glad to say that the Abbé,
+although now a cripple, recovered from his wounds.</p>
+
+<p>The Aumonier to the French Hospital at Bethune
+was a very fine priest. He was not mobilised as a
+soldier owing to defective vision, but he acted as priest
+and as a stretcher-bearer to the hospital. His lifelong
+friend, another priest and lecturer on Natural
+History at the College at Bethune, was fighting as a
+private in the Argonne. One day the Abbé told me
+that he had received a letter from his friend describing
+his life in the trenches, saying, “I live the life of a
+rabbit. I live in a hole in the ground. At night I
+come out to feed.”</p>
+
+<p>A few days after this the Abbé heard that his friend
+was killed—shot dead through the head. When the
+Abbé told me of this I murmured the usual, “Hard
+luck.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said the Abbé, becoming very serious. “It
+is not what you call the Hard Luck. It is the good
+luck. It is how a good priest would wish to die.”</p>
+
+<p>It has been asked many times during this war,
+“What is Christianity doing after the past 1900 years?”
+and many have answered, “Crucified men and women.
+Mutilated prisoners of war. Outraged women and
+slaughtered children. Cities and towns in ashes.
+Misery, tears, and the moaning of millions.” If this is
+the indictment, it is not against Christianity, but
+against one people only, that of Lutheran Germany.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>But these hellish deeds of “Christian” Germany have
+but served to bring more clearly and brightly into view
+the Christian spirit of other peoples’ brotherliness,
+help for the distressed, and that</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Kindness in another’s trouble,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Courage in your own.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Belgian and French soldiers fighting at first to
+defend their homes, their women, and their children
+and old men, and fighting now for vengeance to punish
+the bloody invaders, are examples of a good, healthy
+Christianity.</p>
+
+<p>The open, warm welcome of France and England
+to the Belgian refugees, the colossal funds for the
+alleviation of distress, and helping of the wounded and
+the sick, show that the “greatest of these,” Charity, is
+not yet dead on the earth.</p>
+
+<p>Our definition of “Christianity” depends upon the
+point of view. To me the Turco and the Gurkha are
+very good Christians and the German nation is infidel.
+Every General Order issued by the Kaiser ends not with
+an appeal to the Almighty, but with an affirmation
+that God is fighting for the German cause.</p>
+
+<p>The Saxons and Bavarians will sack a town and
+inflict nameless horrors on helpless civilians, shoot old
+men for sport, kill children, torture women, commit
+sacrilege in the churches, smash altars and relics,
+destroy historic and beautiful windows and treasures
+of art, bayonet priests, violate shrieking nuns, and
+with hands smeared in blood they will at the word of
+command praise their German God.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">OVER THE BELGIAN FRONTIER.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Our Clearing Hospital remained at Chocques for four
+or five days, and while here had a fair, but not a large,
+number of wounded. These were quickly sent off by
+hospital trains, which pulled on to a siding not far from
+us. The Indian Clearing Hospital was now also establishing
+itself in the small town, and the Indian hospital
+assistants were a source of great and wondering curiosity
+to the small boys and girls. Our Clearing Hospital
+was now ordered to a place farther north, and as I
+had only been temporarily attached to it during a
+time of great rush at Bethune, my place was now with
+my own Field Ambulance at the front, and somewhere
+near the Belgian frontier.</p>
+
+<p>A motor-car going to Hazebrouck gave me a lift
+as far as there, and another driver brought me to
+Bailleul. Here, after I had reported my arrival,
+Surgeon-General Porter informed me of the exact
+location of my ambulance.</p>
+
+<p>Bailleul is a town of considerable importance in
+the north of France, and has been the object of many
+visits from Taubes, a sure indication that there must
+be a church or a hospital in Bailleul. The church
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>and the hospital were very close together, and the
+Taubes made many a gallant attempt to get them both.
+One evening one of them got the hospital—a bomb fell
+fair on the roof and into a ward full of wounded men,
+killing two and wounding again a man already grievously
+wounded. The old church has so far escaped. The
+square at Bailleul near the church was a busy place in
+those days, as the town was a Divisional Headquarters
+and a corps “poste commandement,” and where there
+are headquarters and “brass hats” there also are many
+rank and file. It was here that, some weeks later,
+I saw that fine battalion, the Liverpool Scottish, parade
+in the street and march out to the trenches. They
+were standing on parade in the street for about twenty
+minutes before moving off and the day was bitterly
+cold. The bare knees of the men looked blue and the
+kilt did not impress us as a good winter dress. Why
+Highlanders choose to expose their knees is quite beyond
+me. The knee joint is a big and complex anatomical
+structure, and is easily affected by sudden changes of
+temperature, so why cover up every other joint in the
+body and leave this bare?</p>
+
+<p>Greatly daring though the ladies are to-day in
+their draping arrangements, they do not dare to walk
+about with bare knees. What prevents them must
+certainly be their appreciation of the delicacy of
+this joint—the delicate mechanism of an important
+articulation.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty years hence, veterans of the Liverpool
+Scottish will tell their children how they got rheumatism
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>in their knee joints from the cold mud of the Flanders
+trenches in the year of our Lord 1914.</p>
+
+<p>I left Bailleul on a Red-Cross Wolseley car driven
+by a queer character who used to be with us on the
+Aisne doing transport work. He was thought to have
+been killed and duly buried, and I was therefore agreeably
+surprised to see my odd friend again. He was a
+wonderfully cheery pessimist. He usually had a long
+budget of most depressing news, of disasters by flood
+and field, and great disappointments, but he envisaged
+them all with a rosy hue and predicted a great to-morrow.
+He did not like the war, for although it had
+not changed his occupation—that of a chauffeur—it
+had seriously affected his emoluments. In the piping
+times of peace he would take small parties on touring
+journeys in France, Germany, and Switzerland—sometimes
+a honeymoon couple, sometimes an American
+millionaire, and he did exceedingly well in tips.</p>
+
+<p>We had a rough passage up from Bailleul and were
+twice bogged in the mud beside the road, and had twice
+to be hauled out. The roads here, and right over the
+frontier into southern Belgium, were very bad in these
+days. Our men, when on the Aisne, said many hard
+words about the mud there, but the Aisne was an
+asphalt path compared with Belgium.</p>
+
+<p>However, we slowly squelched and skidded our
+way over the Belgian frontier and reached Ouderdom,
+not very far from Ypres. For the last few miles we
+had been following Napoleon’s maxim to his Marshals:
+“Marching on the sound of the guns.” The heavy
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>artillery, French, British, and German, was making a
+deafening roar.</p>
+
+<p>This really completed the journey from the Aisne
+to Flanders. We were at our “farthest north,” and
+this journey impressed one with the length of the
+huge battle-line, although it only embraced, after all,
+a part of the great whole. From Switzerland to the
+Channel stretched a wavy line of trenches, across plains,
+spanning canals, through and around swamps, in front
+of great cities and small villages, traversing great forests
+and over mountain passes and peaks. At one end
+submerged country flooded by Alpine snow, sand dunes
+at the other; and in these trenches lined with soldiers,
+and swept by artillery, stern fighting was going on over
+practically every mile.</p>
+
+<p>Our ambulance headquarters was about the most
+God-forsaken place that one could possibly imagine.
+The first impression one received was a dirty pond, full
+of fetid water and surrounded by heaped-up straw
+manure. The Belgian, like the Frenchman, loves to
+have a manure heap at his front door. Closely abutting
+on this putrefactive manure was the cottage itself,
+with one front room, a small side-room or box off this
+front room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and another box at
+the back. From the kitchen a rickety stair led up to
+a windy loft full of corn and hops and bags of potatoes.</p>
+
+<p>Next the living quarters and part of the house came
+stalls for cattle, and the <i>tout ensemble</i> was unlovely
+and smelly. Twelve medical officers, two chaplains,
+and a quartermaster lived in the tiny little front room,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>or crowded round a table in it. When the table was in
+the room there was barely space to pass between it and
+the wall. Six or seven officers slept on the floor of this
+den at night, and in the morning had to rise early, roll
+up their valises and pack them round the wall. The
+O.C. and a chaplain slept in the box off our only room,
+and the rest of us slept in the loft amidst the wheat
+and hops and the bitter cold draughts.</p>
+
+<p>Our cooks lived, smoked, worked, and slept in the
+kitchen, and this apartment Madame invaded during
+the day to do her domestic cooking. Madame “with
+the terrible voice” gave our cooks a bad time, and
+frequently chased them out and took their pots and pans
+off the fire, utterly disorganising our meals.</p>
+
+<p>Madame was not popular, and in my dreams I sometimes
+still hear her raucous voice.</p>
+
+<p>The Flemish farmer, the proud owner of this very
+dirty and uninviting farm, had a family of three little
+children, and was besides the humble husband of the
+lady whose voice was more terrifying than the screech
+of bursting shrapnel.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Madame, she did not look kindly on us, and we
+never even saw her smile—except once, and that story
+comes later.</p>
+
+<p>At 4 a.m. her strident, penetrating tones would
+fill the cottage and wake us all to a world of cold and
+discomfort, of greasy bacon, muddy tea, and sodden
+mousy bread.</p>
+
+<p>She was watchful and suspicious of our men, who
+slept with the poultry in the surrounding stables and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>out-houses, and openly accused them of stealing her
+straw.</p>
+
+<p>What they could do with the straw after having
+stolen it Madame did not choose to say—perhaps she
+thought that they ate it!</p>
+
+<p>We met many Flemish besides Madame and her
+family at this time, and although we sympathised
+greatly with them, we could not bring ourselves to like
+them. It was all so different with the French, whom we
+liked and who liked us. The Flemings did not seem to
+care for us; they certainly never made us any demonstrations
+of affection. Perhaps it was the difference in
+tongue. They spoke French with an Irish-Dutch
+brogue, and our accent was, of course, a pure Anglo-Parisian.</p>
+
+<p>French officers told us here that they did not like the
+Flemings, and that the Flemings were not cordial with
+them. Belgian officers, it is well known, do not see
+eye to eye with the French officers, but pull amazingly
+well with the British, to whom they are warm and communicative.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy Atkins as a rule likes every one, but he neither
+understood nor cared for the Flemings. This was quite
+noticeable. We found those round Ouderdom, Ypres,
+and Dickebusch sullen, dour, and suspicious. We were
+not welcomed, and their surly, heavy manner towards
+us was very apparent. There was no responsiveness, no
+<i>gaieté de cœur</i>, no cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>Historical traditions and the likes and hates of
+centuries die hard. The Flemings and the English had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>often been friends in the past, but the French and Flemings
+had always been on opposite sides of the fence, and
+whenever the French came into the Flemish garden it
+was to fight, and not to play.</p>
+
+<p>We wondered if Madame of our cottage knew her
+Belgian history. We were quite sure that she would
+have been more amiable and sweet had she known that
+Flanders had been England’s ally in the Hundred Years’
+War, and that the bowmen of Mons were more than
+once ranged on England’s side; that Baldwin <span class="allsmcap">II.</span>,
+Count of Flanders, a former ruler of the land where
+stood Madame’s farm, was a son-in-law of Alfred the
+Great of England, and that Baldwin <span class="allsmcap">V.</span>, also a Count of
+Flanders, was father-in-law to William the Conqueror,
+and fitted out Flemish ships to convey Flemish men
+to Pevensey to kill Harold’s Anglo-Saxons.</p>
+
+<p>The Flemings have long memories about the French,
+and never forget the “Battle of the Spurs” or the
+“Battle of Roosebeke,” for in these two epoch-making
+battles the French were the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>The manifesto issued by the King of the Belgians
+to his people at the beginning of the war in August cited
+the Battle of the Spurs fought at Courtrai. At this
+famous encounter, a band of Flemish artisans and
+citizens, armed with billhooks, axes, and scythes, attacked
+with the maddest fury a disciplined French army of
+steel-clad knights and men-at-arms and utterly defeated
+it. This battle reference was hardly quite happy when
+Joffre was hurrying his Army Corps over the frontier
+to Namur.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span></p>
+
+<p>At Roosebeke, in 1382, the French met another
+citizen army under Philip van Artevelde, and slew him
+and twenty-five thousand men. It is said that Flemish
+fathers and mothers handed down this bitter tale to their
+children for three centuries, and in later years told of
+Cassel, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Jemappes,
+and Waterloo—all glaring instances of French turbulence
+on peaceful Flanders land. So the Flemings were distrustful
+always of the Gallic cock, and had apparently
+forgotten about their connection with our Alfred the
+Great and our William of Normandy.</p>
+
+<p>During our occupation of this mean farmhouse,
+situated behind its Flemish manure heap, the weather
+was bitingly cold. The rain of the first week was
+succeeded by a heavy snow and frost, and as we had no
+fire of any sort and were not able to take much physical
+exercise, we were all day and night chilled to our very
+marrow.</p>
+
+<p>November 1914 in Flanders will be remembered
+by many thousands of Englishmen as a month of intense
+and bitter cold, when to the dangers and ever-present
+death of the trenches were added the miseries and
+tortures of frostbitten feet and legs, and a merciless
+cutting wind. This was the period when men, stiffened
+and paralysed with cold, had to be pulled out of the
+trenches and dragged or carried to the rear to bring
+back a slowing circulation to the affected limbs. This
+was also the period when men could not be spared
+from the firing line, when the Germans were making
+those formidable rushes in strong columns, and leaving
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>thousands of dead to mark the place where the rush
+had been stayed and the column crumpled up.</p>
+
+<p>The little town of Dickebusch was on the road to our
+left, and through it ran a highway to Ypres. Where
+the road turned to the right into Ypres was an advanced
+station of a Field Ambulance, and, as one of the medical
+officers of it was known to me, I walked along this
+highway one morning in order to hear the latest news.
+He was always a very safe man to call upon for news,
+for what he did not know authentically, he would
+invent. The road to this advanced station lay behind
+several batteries of French “seventy-fives,” the pride
+and glory of the French gunner. The road was quite
+close to these guns, but they were so wonderfully
+concealed with straw and branches of trees that an
+ordinary traveller would have passed them by until
+their presence was indicated by their mighty roar.
+The gunners were hard at it this morning, pouring an
+unending string of bursting shells on the German
+positions, and the din was terrible.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the Germans got the range of the road.
+One shell burst far in front of me on the road, and one
+far behind about the same moment, and a bolt for cover
+was the immediate sequence. I got into a dug-out
+behind some French guns and then witnessed a wonderful
+display of artillery practice. Shell after shell fell
+with marvellous precision up and down the road, and
+one followed the other with a lightning speed. The
+road was excavated with volcanic craters, of flying stones
+and earth clouds, and mighty showers of <i>débris</i> were
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span>sprayed tumultuously on every side. A French officer
+pointed out where the next shell would land; and he
+was always right—he knew the “general idea” possessing
+the mind of the German gunner, and correctly
+surmised that after the road had been systematically
+covered, the firing would cease. It was a big waste
+of ammunition, for nothing was damaged except the
+road, and the French gunners, as soon as the firing was
+over, ran to their pet “seventy-fives” and opened
+furiously back in order to show that their bark was as
+good as ever. The French batteries at this particular
+place did enormous damage to the Germans in their
+attacks south of Ypres, and as they are no longer at
+this roadside but somewhere farther on, no valuable
+information is being given away in relating the fact.</p>
+
+<p>The French gunners, both at this critical phase of
+the war and on the Aisne, were wonderful fellows.
+Night and day, in rain, hail, sleet, or snow, their great
+guns never stopped. In the blackest night and in
+howling gales of sleety wind they could be heard near
+by and in the far distance, for ever pounding into the
+enemy. This policy of continuous fire is wonderfully
+heartening to the French troops in the trenches, and
+the moral effect is tremendous. On the Aisne the
+French guns were always busy, but the British, alas,
+were generally silent. I have heard men on the Aisne
+pathetically say, “Why don’t our guns fire?” “Why
+don’t they reply to the German fire?” and the questioning
+was not confined to soldiers, for it was a common
+topic of conversation amongst officers. On the Aisne
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>we did not have enough artillery, and we had not
+enough ammunition for the artillery we did have. It
+was the same at this period at Ypres. England, the
+greatest engineering country of the world, the richest
+and most prosperous Empire of this or any other
+time, made a very poor showing on the Continent.
+Small as our army was, it was not equipped perfectly.
+Our army in France may have been the “best shooting
+army,” but if so it was with the rifle. In artillery we
+were entirely outclassed by the Germans and put to
+eternal shame by the French. On the Aisne the
+Germans had big 8-inch howitzers and we had
+nothing to meet them. Against the guns that had
+battered the forts of Maubeuge and crumpled up
+Namur what had we to offer? Nothing. The Germans
+had an unlimited supply of machine-guns on the
+Aisne and the Yser, and we had a paltry few. We
+were short of ammunition, but the Germans and the
+French had plenty.</p>
+
+<p>When we required high explosive shells to beat
+down entrenchments and trenches we had nothing but
+shrapnel, which was absolutely useless for this purpose.
+Because shrapnel was effective in the South African
+War and high explosives unnecessary there, it was
+concluded that the same set of circumstances would
+be repeated in France and Belgium.</p>
+
+<p>In September 1914 I saw the four 6-inch howitzer
+batteries arrive on the Aisne from England, and the
+news of their arrival spread like wildfire amongst our
+men, who thought that at last “mighty England was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>sending mighty guns.” They were mighty guns right
+enough, but there was not enough ammunition sent
+with them. As a nation we always muddle through,
+but it is rather pitiful to think that muddles mean the
+death of many brave men, and that our woeful lack
+of big guns and ammunition has meant many British
+graves in France and Flanders.</p>
+
+<p>A ride through Ypres at this time was an interesting
+and exciting affair—interesting from the historic
+associations of the old Flemish capital, and exciting
+from the German “Black Marias” falling about. The
+old Cloth Hall was then still standing—only one corner
+and a door had been battered about, but Ypres itself
+was very mournful and desolate. A bombarded town,
+empty of all its people and with ruins all round where
+once was industry, wealth, and moving crowds, presents
+a very sad spectacle. I suppose Ypres, stormy as
+her history has been in the past, had never been so
+empty before. At one time 200,000 people were said
+to have lived in Ypres. That was in the days of her
+splendour as the ancient capital of Flanders, when
+the wonderful Cloth Hall was built by the cloth-workers
+of the thirteenth century, in that turbulent
+epoch when citizens and workpeople were fighting
+down and curbing the old feudal tyranny—for it was
+in Belgium that the common people established the
+first free city north of the Alps.</p>
+
+<p>On the ride through this famous old city to our
+positions beyond, the terrible evidences of the German
+bombardment surrounded one in monumental impressiveness.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>Dead horses were lying in coagulated
+pools of blood in every street. Whole rows of old,
+closely-built Spanish and Flemish houses and shops
+were crumbled and shattered. The <i>pavé</i> was ripped,
+torn, and covered with window glass shattered into
+millions of fine fragments; roofs had disappeared from
+some houses, and walls blown out of others. Tumbled
+masonry, smoking ashes, and excavated, torn-up roadways—all
+bore witness to the terrible character of the
+first German bombardment.</p>
+
+<p>In one tobacconist’s shop in the square, just
+opposite the Cloth Hall, the large plate-glass window had
+been completely destroyed, but the shop stood otherwise
+uninjured and intact. One could easily have
+taken boxes of cigars and pipes by simply putting a
+hand through the window-frame in passing, but although
+the temptation was there, not one cigar was touched
+by a British soldier. Imagine the genial Saxon or the
+crucifying Bavarian letting such a chance slip!</p>
+
+<p>I got off my horse and led it through the street, as
+it clearly did not like passing the dead horses on the
+roadway. After having tied it to a street-post in front
+of a fair-sized hotel or <i>estaminet</i>, I walked into the
+front bar-parlour, which was open to the street. The
+evidences of a hasty exit were ludicrously patent. A
+half-emptied glass of beer and a full one stood close
+together on the bar counter, and near them lay a good
+pipe full of tobacco which had not been lighted. On
+a small table in a corner of the café was a tray with
+two large empty clean glasses; on the same table stood
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>a bottle of red wine, and close beside it a corkscrew,
+holding the impaled extracted cork. One light chair
+near this table lay overturned on the floor; the other
+had been hastily drawn back, as was shown by the
+tracks on the sawdust floor. I thought of Pompeii
+when old Vesuvius belched ashes and molten lava and
+buried the gay Roman pleasure-city as it stood. The
+Pompeian wine-bibbers and “mine host” could not
+escape from that engulfing darkness and the fiery cinders,
+and perforce died nobly standing by their bottles.
+But in that drinking-room at Ypres there was no dying
+the death beside the beer and the good red wine.
+No Sherlock Holmes was necessary to reconstruct the
+picture—the two cronies drinking their morning ale
+at the bar, and the two comfortable Yprian burghers
+waiting for the filling of their glasses from the bottle
+just uncorked, the burly “mine host” in white apron
+and with bottle in hand—all suddenly electrified by a
+sinister whistling overhead, and then the mighty explosion,
+the roar of falling masonry, the smashing of
+hundreds of window-panes, the concussion of air; then
+another earthquake smash, and then another, till the
+house and street were rocking with the shocks. This
+was no time to light a pipe, to drink amber beer and
+ruddy wine. It was time to get out of Ypres. So
+down went the forgotten pipe and bottle, back went
+the chairs, and out streamed our terrified quintet to
+the tormented street, leaving the room and its contents
+as I saw it.</p>
+
+<p>On approaching the bridge on the far side of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>town I saw the only remaining inhabitant. This was
+a middle-aged woman with a grey shawl over her head
+and shoulders, and she was looking out of a window
+of a partly shattered house. I felt sorry for her, she
+looked so very lonely in that broken house.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon she was arrested by the Belgians
+as a spy. My compassion had been utterly thrown
+away.</p>
+
+<p>Near this same bridge on another occasion my
+arrival was providential. An Army Service Corps driver
+was speeding his motor towards the city when he was
+struck by enemy shrapnel. He had just sufficient
+strength to stop his lorry before fainting from the
+shock and the rush of blood from a grievous wound of
+the right thigh. Blood was pumping out of the wound,
+and it appeared as if the femoral artery had been torn.
+Fortunately it was not, and we were soon able to control
+the hæmorrhage, put the wounded man on his lorry,
+and drive him back to one of the ambulance stations in
+a cottage near the roadside.</p>
+
+<p>The road from Ypres to our trenches was a busy
+but pathetic highway—busy with marching men,
+waggons, gallopers, generals, and staff officers, and
+pathetic from the many graves and small graveyards
+near the roadside and the many full ambulance waggons
+rumbling along on the uneven, jolty <i>pavé</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The road was frequently visited with enemy shells,
+and no one travelled along it unless on business. “Trespassers
+will be prosecuted” was an unnecessary injunction
+on the Ypres roads.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span></p>
+
+<p>The headquarter staff of the 15th Brigade beyond
+Ypres had a narrow escape one morning. A big shell
+burst in the grounds of the château occupied by the
+Brigadier and his staff. The staff, who were in the
+building at the time, went out to look at the hole it
+had made. Whilst looking at the pit, another shell
+landed on the château itself and burst into the room
+just vacated by them. A soldier servant was killed and
+one staff officer was wounded.</p>
+
+<p>An advanced ambulance station, with wounded men
+and medical officers in it, was struck fairly by another
+shell and badly holed, causing loss of life. No place
+was safe from these long bowls of the enemy, and
+though artillery practice of this sort may not be of
+much military importance, it yet produces an air of
+uncertainty and caution and jumpiness.</p>
+
+<p>The country surrounding Ypres and Ypres itself
+were very dismal. The old elm trees on the roads, and
+the silent, deserted streets were shrouded in a ghostly
+veil of melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>On a subsequent visit to the site of the old Cloth Hall
+one saw little more than ruins, for the famous building
+had in the interval been correctly ranged by the enemy
+guns and duly shattered. Later on more destruction
+took place, and visitors of the year 2015 will be shown
+some stones and broken pillars, all that was left of a
+famous hall which had stood for seven centuries and
+had been destroyed “one hundred years ago.”</p>
+
+<p>When peace comes again to Belgium, Ypres and
+its roads, its Hill 60 and its graves will be a place of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>holy pilgrimage to thousands of English, French, and
+Germans, for here fell and are buried their bravest
+dead.</p>
+
+<p>But the curious tripper and the Cook’s tourist had
+better keep away from Ypres. Let the friends of the
+dead and the quiet country folk have the land in their
+possession for a season.</p>
+
+<p>The railway station at Vlamertinge, near Ypres,
+frequently had a very fine armoured train in its sidings.
+The train was manned by Jack Tars with naval guns,
+and the engine and car looked very attractive in a
+wonderful coat of futurist colours—splashes of green
+and khaki and brown. This <i>H.M.S Chameleon</i> was a
+very good cruiser and very nippy in moving across
+country. The sailors were very cheerful and seemed
+to like their ship amazingly.</p>
+
+<p>On the roads near our headquarters running from
+Renninghelst to Vlamertinge, and hence along the main
+highway to Ypres, a large number of Belgian soldiers
+were at work repairing the <i>pavé</i> and widening the road
+surface by laying prepared trunks of trees laid closely
+together in the mud at the sides. They were
+fine sturdy men and full of life and cheerfulness, a
+different type altogether from the countryfolk we met
+in the farms. These were the men who had fought
+from Liége to the Yser, and were still on Belgian soil.
+They were very bitter about the Germans. They said
+that they asked for no quarter and would give none in
+the fighting.</p>
+
+<p>These Belgians on the roads were men who had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>been temporarily sent back to “recuperate,” and while
+at this work they enjoyed good food, warm quarters,
+and sleep. At eleven o’clock every morning a very fine
+motor kitchen would pass along the road. Each man
+had his canteen ready, the cook ladled out to him
+a good helping of mashed potatoes, boiled mutton, and
+thick gravy, and another cook handed him a big
+chunk of white bread. It was all done very expeditiously
+and in good order. After getting his share
+each man would sit on his rolled-up overcoat on the
+roadside and spoon the mutton and potatoes into his
+mouth with the bread. Knives and forks and spoons,
+after all, are really only luxuries.</p>
+
+<p>The roads were in a frightful state during these
+November weeks. The narrow <i>pavé</i> was full of ruts,
+deep and dangerous, and skirted on either side by a
+slope of boggy quagmire churned up by the wheels of
+hundreds of heavy motor transports, and beyond this
+again on either side was a deep ditch.</p>
+
+<p>Any skidding motor would land in the ditch, and
+the righting of these embedded cars was at times a
+titanic task, productive of much loss of temper and
+bad language.</p>
+
+<p>The narrow <i>pavé</i> would not permit of two vehicles
+crossing abreast, and when two met, neither wished to
+surrender the “crown of the causeway.” It was a
+point of honour not to budge and to wear down the
+other side by abusive epithets. Uncle Toby used to
+say that our army swore horribly in Flanders, but the
+swearing in Toby’s day was not a patch on the rich
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>vocabulary and full-blooded oaths of our London taxi-drivers
+in Flanders in 1914.</p>
+
+<p>The London taxi-driver, always eloquent, reached
+his highest flights when addressing the quivering
+blancmange-like mud of a Belgian road.</p>
+
+<p>I have seen old French non-commissioned officers
+who probably did not know a single word of what was
+said on these occasions, but who envisaged the situation
+perfectly, stand by with approving and admiring faces
+while the driver was embracing in his comprehensive
+abuse all things living and dead, the heavens above,
+the earth beneath, and the waters under the earth.</p>
+
+<p>At Ouderdom we met Alphonse, soldier of France.
+Two medical officers were one morning sipping some
+red wine in an <i>estaminet</i> in the village when in swaggered
+a very small French soldier.</p>
+
+<p>He had a boy’s face and figure and voice, but bore
+the assured manner of a man of the world. He was
+small even for a French boy. A carbine was swung
+across his back, and his belt carried a bayonet and
+cartridges. He wore the French blue overcoat with
+the ends tucked up in the approved style and with the
+buttons polished and bright. His little legs were encased
+in the familiar red trousers tucked into heavy boots
+several sizes too large for him, and his <i>képi</i> was placed
+on his small, closely cropped head at a jaunty angle.
+Such was Alphonse, the complete soldier of France, full
+private in a famous Parisian rifle battalion.</p>
+
+<p>Alphonse swaggered into the café, ordered his glass
+of red wine with the <i>sang-froid</i> and assurance of a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>veteran grenadier, and tossed it off as easily as a
+Falstaff.</p>
+
+<p>“How old are you, Alphonse?” “But fourteen
+years, mon officier.” “Have you killed many Germans?”
+“But yes, perhaps thirteen, perhaps fifteen;
+who can tell when one is fighting every day? But
+certainly I kill many Bosches.” “And with what did
+you kill them, Alphonse?” “Avec mon carabine”—this
+with a smack of his hand on the barrel of the gun.
+A smart soldierly salute, and our gallant killer of thirteen,
+perhaps fifteen, peaceful, amiable German soldiers
+strode out of the café.</p>
+
+<p>A corporal of Alphonse’s regiment told us that at
+the beginning of the war Alphonse was a young devil
+of a gamin in Paris. In his leisure moments he sold
+newspapers in the streets, and in his working hours he
+was up to some devilry.</p>
+
+<p>When this regiment marched out of Paris towards
+the frontier Alphonse marched alongside it, a bright-eyed,
+hopeful, cheerful youth clad in ragged clothes and
+down-at-heel boots. He was told to go home, but said
+that he had no home and was going instead to kill
+Germans. So in the good French way the regiment
+adopted Alphonse, gave him a uniform and a gun, and
+a new pair of boots, and took him on the strength.</p>
+
+<p>The little gamin turned out a very cunning soldier.
+He was a dead shot, and the corporal assured us
+that he had accounted for a good many of the enemy.
+At night Alphonse would crawl out of the trenches and
+scout well into the enemy lines. Frequently he brought
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>back valuable information of preparations for a German
+surprise attack. He was so small and so cute that he
+escaped observation.</p>
+
+<p>In December Alphonse was presented to President
+Poincaré on one of his many visits to the French front,
+and the President promised him a commission and the
+Legion d’Honneur when he should reach the age of
+twenty-one years. I have grave fears for the gallant,
+snub-nosed, blue-eyed Alphonse, young in years but
+old in sin. He is already too fond of the rich red wine
+of France, and scouting at night inside the enemy lines
+is a duty full of peril. But Alphonse can teach a
+lesson in patriotism that many a flower-socked, straw-hatted
+knut on a London promenade would do well to
+learn.</p>
+
+<p>The Flemings are very devout Catholics, perhaps
+the most Catholic of all peoples to-day; so our ambulance
+was given the hall-mark of respectability
+because we had with it a Monsignor. The presence of
+a Catholic prelate with our ambulance, distinguished
+it in a notable degree from all other ambulances, and
+we tried to live up to our presumed reputation.</p>
+
+<p>Whenever Monsignor appeared on the roads near
+Ouderdom the Belgian soldiers would immediately
+stop work and, carrying their pickaxes and shovels,
+crowd round him for a talk and the latest news. Monsignor
+was a good linguist and a cheerful optimist,
+and never handed on any bad news to the soldiers.
+One morning he was asked for news, and appealed to
+me what to say. We told them that the Russians had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>another victory, and that the German dead could be
+counted by thousands. This was very palatable and
+thoroughly appreciated. We were not asked to give
+any details of the victory, which was perhaps fortunate.</p>
+
+<p>Monsignor would sometimes walk along this road
+with his hands behind his back and with two or three
+cigarettes sticking out prominently from between his
+fingers. The Belgian soldiers would then stalk after
+him, with broad grins on their faces, and pull away a
+cigarette. Monsignor never looked behind. That
+would not be playing the game at all, but his eyes would
+twinkle, and I have no doubt whatever that he hugely
+enjoyed the fun.</p>
+
+<p>There were days when Monsignor had a wardrobe consisting
+of but one shirt and one pair of trousers—the
+other articles of apparel had all been given away. Then
+he would begin again to collect mufflers and socks when
+supplies came in, and hand them out almost immediately
+to some poor devils who had nothing. If our chaplain
+appeared any day to be more cheerful than usual, one
+could make quite sure that he had just given away his
+boots or his shirt or his towel to some poor French,
+Belgian, or British Tommy. The only thing he kept a
+tight hold on was his toothbrush.</p>
+
+<p>One day Monsignor appeared with a cardboard box
+in his hand and told us that he was going to Renninghelst,
+a small town about two miles from our headquarters.
+Lieutenant X—— and myself asked leave
+to accompany him. We had to ask permission, for
+Monsignor was a senior chaplain and a lieutenant-colonel
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>in rank, although he never said anything about
+that. We discovered it accidentally. Being a colonel
+interested him only in a vague impersonal sort of way.
+He told us once that a soldier is diffident and shy before
+a colonel, but is natural and communicative to his
+minister or priest who is not flagged and starred.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus23" style="max-width: 43.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus23.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Monsignor distributing medals to Belgian soldiers at
+    the roadside.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>On this lovely winter morning, when the whole
+countryside was white with frozen snow, we had a
+sharp bracing walk to the curious old town, then the
+headquarters of General B—— and his staff of a French
+Division. The village streets were packed full of
+French and Belgian soldiery, from Spahis to Alpine
+Chasseurs. We worked our way round the carts and
+through the jostling men to a little shop opposite the
+church. Monsignor was hailed joyfully by many of his
+old friends, who on this particular morning were not
+working on the roads.</p>
+
+<p>The mystery of the cardboard box was then unravelled,
+for after cutting the string and throwing away
+the cover we saw that it was full of small religious
+medals and scapularies. There was a big rush for the
+medals, and we were all squeezed up together by the
+pressing soldiers, hundreds of whom were holding their
+grimy paws out for the metal discs. As Monsignor was
+hard at work I took a hand also and helped in the
+distribution. At last all were gone. Hundreds more
+men had come up with hands out, but had to leave
+unsatisfied. I asked Monsignor if the medals lost any
+virtue by having been handed out by me, a Protestant.
+He assured me that it was all right, as the Belgians
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span>and French must have thought I was a good
+Catholic.</p>
+
+<p>Every Field Ambulance has two chaplains attached
+to it. Ours had a Church of England one and a Roman
+Catholic. Another ambulance would have perhaps a
+Wesleyan and a Catholic, or a Presbyterian and an
+Anglican. These chaplains were not designed for the
+spiritual needs of the ambulance men, but as each
+ambulance kept in touch with a brigade consisting of
+four battalions, the chaplain could also, by being
+with the ambulance headquarters, keep in touch with
+the brigade, and could also meet the wounded brought
+in from that brigade, administer the rites of the Church
+to those requiring it, and bury the dead. The chaplains
+did not restrict themselves to the men of their own
+faith, but helped and worked all they knew for all.
+After all, an ambulance station full of wounded men
+is not the place for religious exercises, and a wise
+chaplain helped in making the men as comfortable as
+possible, bringing round soup, taking off boots, distributing
+cigarettes and tobacco, writing letters and
+“gossiping”—the wounded like some one to talk to
+them and to talk to, and the chaplains could make a
+“cheery atmosphere” even in such a gloomy place as a
+barn full of recently wounded men. Most of the
+chaplains had a good sense of proportion. Some had
+not. One bleak, miserable day, I saw a well-meaning but
+mournful chaplain go up to a lorry full of wounded
+men packed close together on the straw, uncomfortable
+and shivering and miserable. He handed to each
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>of them a small religious tract exhorting him to read it.
+The men took them with a polite “Thank you,
+sir,” but their faces displayed no enthusiasm. This
+was not the time for tracts. Shortly afterwards
+another chaplain, a man of the world, came up to the
+lorry with a “Cheer up, boys. You’ll soon be in warm
+comfortable quarters. Have you any smokes?” The
+men had none, and out came a dozen packets of
+Woodbine cigarettes from the chaplain’s pockets and
+two boxes of matches. The expression on the men’s
+faces altered at once. The atmosphere had altered, the
+sense of proportion had been restored.</p>
+
+<p>Men in hospital like to hear good news. I knew
+one chaplain who managed never to go into a room full
+of wounded and sick men without bringing some cheery
+report for everybody. He never actually fabricated
+news, but he had a wonderful gift of exaggeration.
+If we were in the same position, we had “held the line
+against incredible odds.” If the French had taken an
+enemy trench, “they had driven a wedge into the
+German position and produced consternation.” If
+Russian cavalry had made a reconnaissance in the
+Masurian Lakes, “they were sweeping like locusts all
+over East Prussia, and had set fire to the Kaiser’s
+favourite hunting-lodge.”</p>
+
+<p>The men never inquired about details, general
+statements were quite good enough.</p>
+
+<p>This was better than telling men that the “war
+would be a terribly long one; that we would have
+to make great sacrifices; but, please God, we would win
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>in the end.” I have heard a chaplain talk like this to
+wounded men, and I knew that he “wasn’t delivering
+the right goods.”</p>
+
+<p>Renninghelst is a large village, or rather a very
+small town. It is situated close to the Franco-Belgian
+frontier, and at this period was of importance as an
+ambulance centre for wounded French and Belgians
+who were occupying the line of trenches in the front.
+The country all round is real Flanders land—flat,
+low-lying, damp, and uninviting. The renowned Mont
+de Cats can be seen from it, and round this <i>mont</i>
+some hard fighting was taking place. The old village
+has a queer Dutch-looking church with a closely packed
+graveyard around it, planted thickly with stone and
+iron crosses to the memory of ancient departed burghers,
+whose Flemish-Dutch names are inscribed there to
+commemorate their ages and their virtues. Eighty,
+eighty-five, and ninety seemed to be the usual age of
+these old burghers for slipping off this mortal coil in
+this quiet sleepy old place in Southern Belgium. There
+are many new graves now round the Renninghelst
+countryside, and they are for men who have died
+young, suddenly, and in the springtime of their days.
+The interior of this old Flemish church is lofty, and
+has little in the way of adornment, for there are no
+millionaires in its congregation to give great stained-glass
+windows or carved pulpits.</p>
+
+<p>On my first visit to the church it was full of French
+soldiers, some sleeping and others lolling round on the
+straw that thickly covered the stone floor. A big
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>group were crowded round a charcoal brazier warming
+themselves and watching the progress of a savoury
+stew. The French soldiers are wonderful cooks, and
+the stew this day was to be a good one, for the <i>pièce
+de résistance</i> was a fine fat hare which had been caught
+that morning near the front. The two cooks were
+exercising great care to make the stew a success, and
+the air of the place was a cheerful, expectant one.</p>
+
+<p>Some days after this visit I was again at Renninghelst,
+and the church was now a temporary hospital.
+The floor was still covered with straw, but wounded
+men were lying close together on it. The charcoal
+brazier was still there and giving out a welcome heat
+on this cold wintry day. Ambulance waggons were
+in the street next the church full of wounded soldiers,
+and more were coming up the road.</p>
+
+<p>French army surgeons were busy amongst the red-breeched
+men in the church, and three of them were
+engaged round an improvised operating table near the
+altar, where a man deeply under chloroform was having
+his jaw wired with silver wire for a bad fracture from a
+piece of shell.</p>
+
+<p>The old white-haired, weary-looking priest of the
+parish was leaning over a dying man and bending his
+head low to catch the last faint whispers. Some women
+of the village were carrying round cups of hot broth
+to the men propped along the wall, and others were
+hurrying in with blankets and pillows.</p>
+
+<p>One soldier I observed to be very blanched and
+tossing restlessly on his straw. Restlessness is always
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>an important sign in wounded men, and on going up
+to this poor devil and turning down his rough blanket
+the cause of the trouble was apparent. He was bleeding
+freely through a bandaged wound of the leg. The
+dressings were soaked with blood, and as the French
+surgeons were occupied I broke a professional rule
+and treated this patient without asking his doctor’s
+permission. The bleeding was soon controlled, and
+the threatened death from hæmorrhage averted.</p>
+
+<p>As I was completing the last turns of the bandage
+a voice murmured over my shoulder, “Vive l’entente
+cordiale.” The speaker was the chief surgeon, just
+released from his work on the operating table. He
+thanked me for helping, and said that he and his two
+assistants had been up all night, and had been very
+busy. Most of the men had been wounded by shrapnel.
+Shrapnel makes very bad wounds; it rips, tears, and
+lacerates the tissues, and repair is often impossible
+in face of the anatomical devastation. The French
+were having a great deal of trouble with their wounds,
+as we were also. All the wounds became septic. There
+is very little clean surgery in this war. The wounds
+rarely heal by first intention, and a fractured, splintered
+bone meant months of rest and painful dressings in
+hospital and a tardy convalescence.</p>
+
+<p>The fighting all along this front had been extraordinarily
+severe. The French hospitals and the French
+medical staff were taxed to the utmost. Every available
+fighting man was in the trenches or waiting as
+supports. The German hammer was making mighty
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>swings on the Allied anvil, and nowhere were the blows so
+heavy and so long sustained as on that famous Ypres
+salient. It was bent and dented, but not broken.
+The character of the fighting can be grasped from
+two incidents. One famous infantry regiment left
+England at full strength. All of its original officers
+were killed, wounded, or missing. Of the second lot
+of officers, all were killed, wounded, or missing. Its
+third supply of officers were now grimly up against
+the same chain of events.</p>
+
+<p>One of the first British Divisions left England with
+12,000 men and 400 officers. When it was withdrawn
+from the front to rest and refit, it could only muster
+2336 men and 44 officers!</p>
+
+<p>A famous French regiment with a long roll of battle
+honours went into action one frosty morning near
+Reims. It went forward a gleaming column of more
+than a thousand bayonets. Two days afterwards
+forty-nine men, led by an old bearded sergeant, marched
+back. These were all that were left. The sergeant had
+a bloody bandage across his forehead—he had lost an
+eye—but the French Brigadier-General embraced and
+kissed him on the cheek. The French officers standing
+near stood rigidly at the salute, and tears were running
+down their cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>The losses on our side were heavy indeed, but on the
+German side I am glad to know that they were colossal.
+The annihilation of German battalions and brigades
+is an argument that the Germans fully understand,
+and the only thing that will convince the German that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>the game is up is heavy and continuous loss of fighting
+men and difficulty in filling their ranks. This sounds
+very brutal, but we are living in a hard age.</p>
+
+<p>I was much struck by the splendid way the women
+of this small Belgian town rallied round to help the
+wounded. We found the same thing in France; no
+trouble was too great, and all was done so cheerfully
+and sympathetically. This is the “women’s day” in
+France. One cannot help admiring their courage and
+ability in France’s hour of trial. Husbands, sons,
+brothers, fathers—all are on the frontier, and the women
+carry on the business of France. They make the most
+stupendous sacrifices and exhibit a sublime patience.
+None are so joyful as the women when a French victory
+is announced, and none so pitiful as they when the
+wounded, the corollary to every victory, arrive at
+the towns and villages.</p>
+
+<p>This war, which the German has carried on with an
+animal ferocity and a degenerate lust unequalled in
+history, has demonstrated to the world the unfaltering
+nobility of character of the French woman, and that
+her fervent soul can rise serene and cool in the midst
+of the most appalling troubles.</p>
+
+<p>When our troops landed at Le Havre in August, it
+was noticed at once what a big part the women were
+taking in the business life of the place. There were
+women conductors on the trams, women in the
+tobacconist shops, women in the cafés as attendants,
+in the streets selling newspapers, and in all the big
+<i>magasins</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span></p>
+
+<p>In Rouen, women conducted coal and timber yards,
+vegetable and produce businesses, bakeries, butcheries,
+fishmongeries, grocers’ and ironmongers’ stores. Women
+drove carts and waggons, acted as tally clerks on
+wharves, did everything, in fact—and did it all soberly,
+quietly, and well. They were always tidy, smart, and
+cheerful, and did not stop work at eleven o’clock for
+a glass of beer, or spend many quarters of hours filling
+and lighting pipes of tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>One woman I know—a rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed
+Norman dame—did the catering for a large officers’
+mess in one of the camps at Rouen. At 5 a.m. she was
+at the mess tent with her pony-cart laden with wine,
+vegetables, preserves, and fruit. I have passed her
+shop at nine o’clock at night and have seen her then
+busily selling dried fish, pickles, and vinegar to her
+customers. She told me that she was too busy to sleep.
+This was in 1915, and she had been running the business
+with no other help than that of two small daughters
+since July 1914.</p>
+
+<p>Her husband was on the Argonne front, and she was
+keeping the flag flying till his return. Incidentally,
+she was making money. Catering for an officers’ mess
+is fairly lucrative.</p>
+
+<p>On the march from the Marne to the Aisne, and on
+the Aisne itself, women were to be seen doing ordinary
+farm work—building stacks, carting in the wheat,
+driving waggon-loads of hay and peas, milking the cows,
+making cider and butter, tilling the soil,—and tending
+the children into the bargain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span></p>
+
+<p>The most amazing thing of all was to see women
+working in the fields behind our batteries only a mile
+away.</p>
+
+<p>At Venizel, on the Aisne bank, our Engineers were
+throwing a pontoon bridge across the river under a
+heavy shrapnel fire. Shells were bursting up and
+down the river’s bank and on the waters of the river,
+yet about a quarter of a mile behind three women were
+busily engaged cutting turnips for the cows.</p>
+
+<p>On the march from the Aisne to La Bassée, our
+Field Ambulance bivouacked at the Château of Longpont.
+The Comte and Comtesse de M—— were in
+residence at the château, and we were told by the
+Comtesse that General von Kluck, commanding the
+right wing of the invading army, had in August stopped
+for a day and a night at the château with his <i>état-major</i>.
+We asked how Von Kluck had behaved, and
+the Comtesse said that he had been <i>très agréable</i>.
+When he arrived, she interviewed him and begged him
+to respect the old château and its old abbey, the
+pictures and the tapestries. The General promised
+that he would do so, and that he would give orders
+that the villagers in the hamlet near the château gates
+were not to be molested. It was the apple season, and
+the apple trees of Longpont were laden with delicious
+fruit. Von Kluck “asked permission” of the Comtesse
+for his soldiers to take some apples off the trees.
+This the Comtesse graciously permitted, and the dusty
+German soldiery helped themselves to the apples and
+did not break a branch off a single tree.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span></p>
+
+<p>The Comtesse provided new eggs and butter and
+bread for the General’s breakfast, and he invited her
+to honour the meal with her presence. But the Comtesse
+sent a note that she would not break bread with
+her country’s enemy. This was one of the few
+châteaux and one of the few villages that the German
+Saligoth did not destroy or outrage before leaving.</p>
+
+<p>Some German Generals approved of outrages and
+atrocities, to wit, Rupprecht of Bavaria. Some disapproved,
+and Von Kluck, it is said, was one of these—but
+I “hae ma doots.”</p>
+
+<p>This leads to one of the blackest pictures of this
+war—a picture grim and loathsome. It is a subject
+which the women of France will discuss freely and
+openly and with a concentrated bitterness that one
+can readily understand. I have spoken to many
+educated French women on this subject, and have heard
+many curious and amazing tales and incidents. The
+subject is that of the women who have been ravished
+and outraged by the German soldiery.</p>
+
+<p>Many of these victims, married women and young
+girls, are to-day pregnant to German fathers, and the
+burning question with the women of France is how
+best to help their unfortunate sisters, and what is to
+be done for the offspring.</p>
+
+<p>In the French Chamber of Deputies the subject has
+been debated with equal freedom and openness. Leading
+French newspapers too, such as the <i>Figaro</i>, <i>Le
+Temps</i>, <i>Echo de Paris</i>, and others, have envisaged the
+position in powerful and appealing articles.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span></p>
+
+<p>One journal advocated that in the exceptional
+circumstances it was perfectly justifiable to carry out
+abortion and interrupt the period of gestation. Opinions
+were sought from leading French physicians and from
+the Academy of Medicine. These unhesitatingly condemned
+such a course, pointing out that the mission of
+the medical profession was to save life; and also that
+the induction of premature labour was at all times a
+dangerous and risky operation to the mother, and in
+certain circumstances would be fatal.</p>
+
+<p>The Catholic Church in France spoke strongly and
+certainly in the same direction, and condemned as
+utterly wrong and sinful any measure that had for its
+object the death of the unborn child.</p>
+
+<p>The women of France, however, do not share these
+latter views.</p>
+
+<p>Arrangements have now been completed for the
+reception of these pitiful expectant mothers into certain
+maternity homes, where they will be attended by skilled
+doctors and nurses at the State expense. After birth
+the child is to be brought up by the State at some
+place undeclared. The mother will not see the child
+at any time, and will know nothing of its future.</p>
+
+<p>The clergy all over Northern France are attending
+to this matter, and everything will be done as secretly
+as possible in the unusual circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder that the French woman speaks of the
+German soldier as a loathly thing.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.<br>
+<span class="smaller">WE LEAVE BELGIUM.</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>At the end of November our ambulance was ordered
+to St. Jans Capelle. We were not sorry to leave our
+house, with its evil pond and manure heap, and the
+voice of Madame.</p>
+
+<p>Madame, by the way, was very amiable when we
+told her that we were to leave. She did not say that
+she was sorry, but she no longer screeched at our cooks
+or railed at our men for eating her straw. Just as our
+ambulance was about to move off, and Madame stood
+at the door with the first approach to a frosty smile
+that we had ever seen on her face, a French sergeant
+and ten men of a balloon section arrived. The sergeant
+had a lump of chalk in his hand and scrawled on the
+door, “Ballon. 3 sous Officiers. Hommes x.” He
+brusquely informed Madame that the quarters just
+vacated by us were to be at once taken by his balloon
+section. Madame raged and raved, but the sergeant
+was imperturbable, and suddenly quietened Madame
+by saying that if she objected very much he would
+begin to think that she was a German spy. The sergeant
+told us that as a matter of fact they were not satisfied
+about Madame’s husband’s patriotism. We knew that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span>Madame and her sulky husband would now have a
+much worse time than when we occupied the house,
+for at least we tried to give little trouble, and lavishly
+paid for any vegetables, milk, or food that we got from
+the farmer. The French insist on the “articles of war,”
+and when they occupy a house they really do occupy
+it and make themselves very much at home.</p>
+
+<p>This mention of Madame’s husband being of doubtful
+honesty, reminded us of a curious incident that occurred
+early in our stay at this place. There was another
+farm close to the one we occupied, and this farm was
+owned by a man who, we were told, was a cousin of
+“Monsieur our farmer.” At this house a man was
+stopping who said that he was a refugee from Ypres.
+He told us that he was a baker from Boston, United
+States of America, and that he and his wife, who were
+Belgians, had been visiting their native country when
+war broke out. He said that his wife and two children
+were in Brussels when the Germans occupied the city,
+and that he himself was stopping with a friend in
+Ypres when the Germans first bombarded it; he then
+left Ypres and came to stop at this farmer’s house.
+This man used to walk every day along a road which
+passed behind some French batteries of 75 mm., but one
+day he did not come back. We asked his farmer friend
+what had become of him, and he said that he had left
+to go to America. We thought the circumstance odd
+at the time, and when our sergeant told us about
+Madame’s husband being under suspicion we asked
+him if he knew anything about this other man, the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>Boston baker. He said that he did, for he had seen
+the fellow arrested and sent back to be tried for spying.
+That perhaps explained why Madame did not like us,
+and why her vituperation and objections were suddenly
+silenced when the French balloon sergeant talked about
+German spies.</p>
+
+<p>After leaving the inhospitable cottage-headquarters,
+our ambulance had a long day’s trek over the Belgian
+frontier to St. Jans Capelle. This place was close to
+Bailleul. We put our men into billets near at hand
+and got quarters for ourselves in the Convent, where
+the sisters gave us a big dormitory full of clean white
+beds with blankets and sheets. This was indeed luxury
+after all our roughing times from the Marne till now.
+We were always perfectly willing to undergo inconvenience
+and hardships, but none of us ever missed an
+opportunity of availing himself of the luxuries and
+amenities of civilisation whenever they presented
+themselves. We had the fine front room of the Convent
+for a dining- and sitting-room, and, greatest boon of all,
+a fire to sit round. The cold was intense at this time,
+and the whole country was frozen hard in snow and ice.
+This was the period when frostbite was so terrible to
+our men in the trenches, and the Clearing Hospitals and
+Ambulance Stations were so busy treating the frozen men.</p>
+
+<p>It was found necessary to relieve frequently the
+freezing soldiers in the advanced trenches, and every
+three days they were allowed out from the terrible mud
+ditches, with death on the parapet and frostbite at the
+bottom.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span></p>
+
+<p>Braziers of burning charcoal were put into the
+trenches, but were found to be ineffective and harmful
+to the feet. The people of England did magnificent
+work in sending out gum boots, skin overcoats, and
+protectives of all sort, but in spite of all that was done
+the frostbite incapacitated many men. The recoveries
+were always slow, and could not be effected at the
+front, so all these limping men were sent back to England
+for rest and change. Many methods of treatment
+were tried for the frostbite, but time alone seemed to
+be the chief curative factor. In some cases the feet were
+swollen, and small bloody exudates could be seen under
+the big toe and the outer side of the foot where the
+boot pressed. Sometimes the skin was broken and
+ulcers formed at the site. In other cases toes became
+completely gangrenous or dead. The feet were rubbed
+and massaged with various oils and swathed in cotton
+wool, but wrapping in wool aggravated the suffering,
+and the men felt much more relief when the feet were
+left exposed. The worst time for the cold-feet men was
+from one o’clock to three in the morning. They would
+often go off to sleep peacefully, but would wake up at
+these hours suffering excruciating pain in their feet and
+calves and up the spine. Nothing would relieve this
+pain but hypodermic injections of morphia. One
+officer described his state to me, and said that he had
+been standing in a trench in mud over his boot-tops.
+At first his feet felt very cold, and he tried to warm
+them by stamping, but this method of exercise was
+too sloppy. Then sensation seemed to go and he felt
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>quite comfortable, because although his feet felt very
+heavy they did not feel cold, only dead. On the fifth
+day he could hardly walk and had to be helped out of
+the trenches. He was unable to walk to the ambulance,
+a short way back, and the feet were found to be so
+swollen in hospital that the boots had to be cut off.
+Then the worst time of all came on, for as the circulation
+gradually returned he suffered diabolical pain in
+his feet and calves, and this pain was always worst in
+the early mornings. Eight weeks after having been
+lifted out of the trench he was still limping about with
+two sticks, and was making a normal but very slow
+recovery.</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus24" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus24.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">Going towards the trenches at Ypres.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="illus25" style="max-width: 31.25em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illus25.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+      <p><span class="smcap">French soldiers going to the trenches.</span></p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>This officer told me that one night the men in his
+trenches were ordered out to make a bayonet attack,
+but half of them were in such a condition that they
+could not crawl out of the trench. Fortunately the
+Germans were pushed back by those who could, otherwise
+the poor devils left behind would have been
+captured or killed.</p>
+
+<p>The Indians round the Bethune district suffered
+very severely from the frostbite, and these poor men
+deserved our greatest sympathy during this period,
+trying and terrible enough to men reared in a fairly
+rigorous climate like that of England or Scotland.
+The misery of the life to men who had never lived out
+of tropical India was enough to wear down any but the
+stoutest hearts. History will give due credit and
+praise to these Indians, that they rose superior to their
+environment and soon proved what sterling good
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span>soldiers they are. I visited at an Indian Clearing
+Hospital the first lot of casualties from the M——
+Division. This Clearing Hospital took over the École
+Jules Ferry at Bethune, and occupied it for a few weeks
+after our Clearing Hospital had vacated it. The
+doctors belonged to the Indian Medical Service, and
+the native Indian doctors belonging to the subordinate
+medical service acted under the white doctors. Some
+temporary lieutenants of the Royal Army Medical
+Corps were also on the staff.</p>
+
+<p>The dusky warriors were arriving in scores, brought
+in on motor ambulances, and very woeful they looked,
+covered with mud and bloody bandages. They had
+not been long at the front, and their first experience
+of modern war was a very desperate ordeal.</p>
+
+<p>The night was dark and gloomy and a heavy rain
+was soaking the countryside. The mud-splashed cars
+dashed into the dripping courtyard, fitfully lit up by
+the sombre gleams of smoky lanterns tied to posts.
+Round about were the dark-faced bearers ready to
+help out the wounded. Those who could walk got
+out of the ambulances themselves and the stretcher
+cases were taken out by the bearers. The scene on
+this night impressed one with the far-reaching character
+of this war, for here were men from the central plains
+of India, the far-off frontiers and the slopes of the
+Himalayas, gathered together in a muddy, marshy
+region of France, and wounded in trying to hold a line
+of ditches against the most determined and scientific
+fighting men of Europe.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Rulers alike and subject, splendid the roll-call rings,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Rajahs and Maharajahs, Kings and the sons of Kings,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">From the land where the skies are molten</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">And the suns strike down and parch.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Out of the East they are marching,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">Into the West they march.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One swarthy Sikh with a fine beard was asked
+what he thought of the war.</p>
+
+<p>“Sahib, it is a very good war. It is a man’s war.
+The old men, the women, and the children are in the
+villages. The warriors are out fighting. It is very
+good.” This optimist had got through with a slight
+wound of the right hand, and perhaps that accounted
+for his cheery outlook. Most of the wounded on that
+night looked as if they would have been better pleased
+to be with “the old men, the women, and the children
+in the villages.”</p>
+
+<p>There is no doubt that the Indians are pleased to be
+fighting alongside us in this “good war,” but they
+have a respect for the German because he is a fierce
+fighter, and perhaps also because of his ruthlessness,
+an attitude which appeals to the Oriental mind.</p>
+
+<p>The Gurkha is a funny little man and a swashbuckler.
+His small sturdy frame, his slanting, watchful
+eyes with the glint of the devil in them, his bandolier,
+rifle, and deadly kukri, with its broad razor-edged
+blade, make up a picture of force and fighting cunning.</p>
+
+<p>Plaster this man with thick mud, put a bloody
+bandage round his head, and place him in a dimly lit
+corner of a dripping court on a dark, rainy night, then
+indeed he looks a breathing symbol of murder and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span>imminent destruction. When the Gurkha is out “on
+the job” at night, prowling far from his trenches and
+within the enemy lines, with no weapon but his broad,
+sharp knife and with a mind intent on slaying, he is a
+formidable and fearsome adversary.</p>
+
+<p>At first our Indian troops found it difficult to
+accustom themselves to the novel form of war in wet,
+cold trenches, a bad climate, and with every surrounding
+strange and inhospitable. The loss of their British
+officers and native non-commissioned officers was at
+first very heavy, and this discouraged the men, who
+look so much to their officers who know their language
+and understand them. But these brave fellows soon
+“found themselves,” and have since those dark October
+days proved again and again that when the call comes
+they can be relied upon to fight with as much determination
+as ever they have done in the past. An
+experienced British officer of a native regiment told
+me that what the Indians missed very much in France
+was opium. He said that the Indian had always been
+accustomed to his opium in India, that he did not take
+much, but really was the better for a little. He took
+it in small quantity as a soporific stimulant, just as
+our grandfathers took snuff, and he assured me that
+when the Indians had to meet the hellish conditions of
+modern war at the front last winter a little opium
+to each man would have meant a great deal. In this
+I cordially agree with him, for the medicinal and
+stimulant effects of small doses of opium are undoubted.</p>
+
+<p>The question of feeding our Indian soldiers was a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span>difficult one, and required very careful handling. An
+old Sikh was wounded near Bethune and was taken to
+the British Clearing Hospital. He refused to take
+anything but biscuits and water. Fortunately we
+were able to remove the old ritualist to the native
+Clearing Hospital, otherwise we would have been at an
+<i>impasse</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst both Hindoos and Mohammedans the
+caste prejudices and ritualistic ceremonies must be
+remembered and observed in the providing and killing
+of animals for consumption. The French also have
+native troops with them and have the same difficulties
+to overcome, and this helps us considerably in arranging
+a joint commissariat scheme. A Sikh soldier will not
+eat a sheep killed in the Mohammedan method by cutting
+its throat, and the Mohammedan soldier will not eat a
+sheep killed in the Sikh method by a slashing stroke
+on the back of the neck. So there you are. These
+things do not seem to be very important, but they are
+important all the same. Ask the Jew who refuses the
+unclean pork, and the good Churchman who refuses
+meat on Fridays.</p>
+
+<p>The following story, which I heard at the front,
+illustrates the accommodating nature of the Gurkha.
+When his regiments were embarking on the transports
+at an Indian port, the point arose whether he would
+eat frozen mutton. The British officers agreed to let
+the matter be solved by the men. So they called up the
+Subadar, who, after a little wrinkling of the eyebrow,
+said, “I think, Sahib, the regiment will be willing to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span>eat the iced sheep provided one of them is always
+present to see the animal frozen to death.”</p>
+
+<p>In Rouen there is an encampment for goats for the
+Indians, and we were told that these goats were good
+mountain fellows from the Pyrenees. Four Indians,
+under the charge of an old, venerable, long-bearded
+native, used to drive them from their encampment
+to the Indian convalescent dépôt about two miles
+outside the city.</p>
+
+<p>The goats, in spite of the shouting and rushing
+about of the drivers, would not keep their ranks and
+dress by the right in marching through Normandy’s
+capital city. The delight of the French people, who
+always turned up in crowds to see the goats march past,
+passed all bounds when one would make a wild dash
+up a side street, hotly pursued by an irate turbaned
+Indian. Another source of great joy was to see the
+goats march slowly along the train line and hold up the
+train traffic.</p>
+
+<p>The Indians were always of absorbing interest to
+the French, and crowds of men and women would walk
+on a fine afternoon from the city to the Indian dépôt
+camp for convalescents to see our brown-faced fighting
+men.</p>
+
+<p>On one winter day in Rouen, just after a heavy fall
+of snow, a company of French soldiers under a non-commissioned
+officer was marching past the Indian
+encampment. The Indians lined up the fence alongside
+the road and bombarded the French with a
+rapid fire of snowballs. The French looked surprised,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span>and, forgetting discipline but still keeping their ranks,
+poured a heavy fusillade of snowballs on the men of
+India. The incident is illustrative of the good feeling
+that exists between the French and their Indian allies.</p>
+
+<p>The Abbé Bouchon d’Homme of our hospital at
+Bethune told me with great glee one morning that the
+Mayor of the town had had a “poser” put to him by
+the Indians. One of these had just died from wounds,
+and he had evidently been a fire-worshipper. The dead
+man’s comrades asked the Mayor of Bethune to provide
+them with timber, as they wished to burn the deceased
+in the cemetery of the city. The Mayor was staggered
+at the request, and although he had, so the Abbé said,
+some curiosity to see the ceremony of fire carried out,
+he had to “turn down” the proposition. So the man
+was buried in the usual way.</p>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Good-bye to the Front.</span></h3>
+
+<p>The Army Headquarters, now that our line had
+been firmly established and locked firmly on our right
+with the French and on our left with the Belgians and
+French, decided to allow a short leave, at intervals, and
+in rotation, to officers and as many men as possible.
+The leave was specially designed for those who had
+been through the retreat, the Marne, and the Aisne.
+New troops were arriving at the front and gradually
+taking the place of the veterans temporarily retired to
+recuperate.</p>
+
+<p>The 5th Division had been amongst the hard knocks
+from the beginning and we got off early.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span></p>
+
+<p>I left the front by a motor bus, which conveyed a
+group of seven officers from Bailleul to Boulogne,
+and from thence we reached England by the ferry
+steamer.</p>
+
+<p>It felt uncanny to be away from the sound of the
+guns. Ever since August our lives had been punctuated
+with incessant gun-fire; we had roused each
+morning to the sound of heavy artillery, we had gone
+to sleep with cannonades for a lullaby, and during
+the long day had listened to the Devil’s Orchestra
+of lyddite, melinite, shrapnel, and rifle fire; and now
+away from it all we seemed to live in a curiously still
+and silent world.</p>
+
+<p>London was a very inviting place to return to.
+The hot bath, the good bed, the morning newspaper at
+breakfast had never been so much appreciated before.
+The rough knocking about and the strain had left its
+effects on the health of many of us, and these four days’
+rest and recuperation, mental and physical, were a
+godsend.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the holiday I was appointed Surgical
+Specialist to a Base Hospital in Rouen, and for a time
+my lines were cast in quieter waters. But the allurement
+of the front—the call of the wild with its
+excitements and uncertainties—lasted for some time
+longer. It is a curious fact, but true, that the men at
+the front would like to get to the Base, and when they
+get there they want to return to the front. “Those
+behind say forward, and those in front say back.”</p>
+
+<p>The memories of days spent at the front can never
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>be quite forgotten. Time may blunt the clearness of
+outline of some of the incidents in a hazy mist, but
+there are others that will stand out clear and undimmed
+to the last.</p>
+
+<p>The surgeon sees the very seamy side of war. He
+comes close to the men stricken down in the field,
+helpless and bleeding and in pain. He stands by them
+in their dark hours in hospital and by their bedsides
+when they die.</p>
+
+<p>While the world is hearing the earthquake voice
+of Victory, he is perhaps kneeling on the straw easing
+the path to death of a dying man, one of the victors
+in the fight, or perhaps operating in a mean cottage,
+surrounded by wounded men waiting their turn on the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>The gallant charge, the brave defence, the storming
+of the enemy’s position are heralded in dispatches
+and in song and story, but translated into the notebook
+of the “Surgeon in Khaki” they represent many
+dead, many wounded, much crippling and mutilation,
+tears, distress, and broken hearts.</p>
+
+<p>I have seen brave men die the death in battle—changed
+in a second of time from forceful, vital, volcanic
+energy to still, inanimate rest. I have seen mortally
+wounded men pass uncomplainingly and composedly
+to the valley of the shadow, and I have seen faces become
+anxious and troubled at the thought of those dear and
+loving ones left behind and of the aching hearts and
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>I have written letters of farewell from dying men
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span>and officers to wives and sweethearts and children, and
+have felt the horror and misery of it all. It is a sad
+and mournful sight to see brave young men die.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, though the life of the “Surgeon in Khaki” is
+amidst this aftermath of battle, he has the infinite
+satisfaction of knowing that he can, and does, hold out
+a hand of help to the hurt and maimed soldier crawling
+out of the welter of blood and destruction, and that he is
+doing the work of the Compassionate and Pitying One.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Affliction’s sons are brothers in distress,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A brother to relieve! How exquisite the Bliss.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>This war has brought out many faults in our
+national life, but it has also brought out many shining
+virtues, and to the Faith and Hope of the people in the
+prowess of the soldiers, we must add the Charity shown
+by the people of this Empire to our sick and wounded.
+By subscriptions to ambulance funds, Red Cross funds,
+and hospitals, and by doing all that was humanly
+possible to help those hurt in battle, the people of to-day
+have made a name that posterity will honour and
+strive in vain to equal. They have also helped the
+Belgian and Serbian Red Cross movements and have
+shown that</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Kindness in another’s trouble,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Courage in your own,”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">which is always so admirable a trait.</p>
+
+<p>Our fighting men are magnificent, and the hardihood
+and patient endurance of our wounded are beyond all
+praise. I have seen our men in actual fight, I have
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>watched the French gunners at work and seen the
+French infantry charge with the bayonet and throw
+back a German rush, and I feel a complete confidence
+of the ultimate final success of the Allied arms—for
+to such men is given the Victory.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">THE END.</p>
+
+<p class="center smaller"><i>Printed by</i><br>
+<span class="smcap">Morrison &amp; Gibb Limited</span><br>
+<i>Edinburgh</i></p>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77265 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #77265
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77265)