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diff --git a/77265-0.txt b/77265-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0118bfd --- /dev/null +++ b/77265-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6951 @@ +*** 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 *** |