SANDRICOURT
Sandricourt, as a base for training and instructions, was a happy
choice, for it became the stepping-stone to efficiency. It must be
remembered that all the men who had joined the service were youngsters
and of good families, and most of them had had some business experience.
In the French Army there is no such thing as luxury, and it is very
hard for a person who has been used to butter, sugar and cream to
be deprived of them all at once. In addition to extremely plain
food, sleeping out of doors was a very necessary preparation for the
hardships to be endured, when one might be called to sleep in any old
place and under unknown conditions.
In the meantime, means were found to divert the minds of the weary
by such activities as military drills, lectures on the care of cars,
instructions on temporary repairs, and the like. In due time there were
also established, under Y. M. C. A. supervision, classes in French, a
working knowledge of which was very necessary, for at the front the men
had to take orders from doctors, who spoke that language exclusively.
When Sandricourt was first taken over it had to undergo a thorough
overhauling. Mr. Goelet had not occupied it from the inception of the
war and, of course, things were in bad shape. The barns, which had been
used for the housing of cattle and stock, were to form the sleeping
quarters for the men, and it was necessary to give them a most rigid
cleaning before they could be occupied.
[Illustration: A French Gun Much Respected by Fritz]
Some of the barns were over a hundred years old and in an awful
state of repair, but a hundred men of the Ambulance Service were
dispatched to start the work and they pitched in with such eagerness
that within four weeks’ time Mr. Goelet himself would hardly have
recognized the place.
As sections left Sandricourt for the front, others came to take
their places and carry on the work. During their stay they received
instructions in preparation for their own departure for the front.
The fatigue work in our service consists of such tasks as carrying
water, chopping wood for the kitchen, and waiting on table. Everyone
had to take his turn at these different duties. It was amusing to
look in on the various groups of inexperienced boys of the different
fatigues. Many of them had never washed a dish in their lives, but no
one was exempt, and each day brought different men to duty on different
fatigues, in accordance with a well-planned schedule.
Details were dispatched each day to help the farmers in the vicinity
with their work, all of which was good for the appetite, and hardened
the boys. Army food was so different, it seemed impossible to eat at
first, but it had the appearance of a banquet at Delmonico’s after one
had been out on a haystack all day or feeding a thrasher.
Such was Sandricourt, the tempering forge of the ambulance corp—the
place where everyone got down to bed rock and exchanged luxury for the
essentials; bloat and fat for muscle, and irregular life for a rigid
routine. Complaints flew thick and fast at first, but, after all,
these seeming hardships were mild, indeed, compared with what came
afterward. When enemy shell fire kept food from coming up, and service
demanded that men should sleep in their clothes for days at a time in
preparation for an immediate call, I often wondered if there were not
a great many fellows who longed for Sandricourt, with its vigorous,
enforced rules and discipline.
In preparation for the assignment of a section to a division, forty
men were chosen from Sandricourt and placed under the leadership of
a chef and sous-chef. Two men on a car and twenty cars constituted a
section. This section, when completed, would then be sent out to one
of the large automobile parks located somewhere along the front where
cars were supplied. Two mechanics were assigned, as well as clerks and
cooks. There was a French lieutenant who, with the chef, took command
of the section when all the equipment necessary for field duty was
supplied. When the section left to join the division it was assigned to
whatever position that division then occupied.
After arriving at its destination the first thing the section has to
do is to establish a cantonment. This is generally an old barn or a
demolished house eight to twelve kilometers behind the line, and it
must be central to all the portion of the front that the division is to
occupy. In all instances these quarters are within easy range of the
enemy cannon, for it would be impractical, for numerous reasons, to
have this cantonment or field base too far in the rear. The greater
the distance the greater the time required to answer emergency calls.
Instant service is the watchword of the ambulance man, for he can never
tell what a few minutes’ loss or gain may mean in the saving or the
losing of a life.
Located at different intervals all along the front, just behind the
first-line trenches, are _abris_, in charge of which there is a
doctor. When a man is shot or otherwise injured, he is taken to one of
these dressing stations where he receives his first treatment. If he
is slightly wounded he is kept there until night, in the event that
the nature of the terrain does not afford security to an ambulance in
coming up to take him to the rear. If he is badly wounded he is put in
a cart and wheeled to the nearest point back of the front line where
an ambulance can approach without becoming a target for enemy guns. At
night it is the duty of the ambulance man to advance under the cover of
darkness up to these dressing stations, and convey all wounded men to
the hospitals in the rear.
As many cars as there are stations to be served at the front leave the
cantonment at noon every day for twenty-four hours’ service at the
front. The remaining cars then become an Emergency Division. All the
clearing must be done at night. No lights are permitted on cars. This
prevents them from becoming marks for the enemy guns.
If a road is being shelled it makes passage extremely difficult for
cars without light. Shell holes are “hell holes” to get out of, not to
speak of the likelihood of a broken axle. It is often necessary for
one of the men on the car to get out and walk in front of it with a
handkerchief behind his back so the man at the wheel can find his way
along what is left of the road, in and out between the shell holes.
Many of the posts or dressing stations where first treatment is given
are located as close up as 500 yards from the German front-line
trenches, which is within easy range of machine guns, so that, during
the day, it is impossible for the ambulances to approach these advanced
posts if compelled to go over ground that might be visible to the
enemy. But at night this can be done with comparative safety.
It is an erroneous idea that the ambulance man goes into “No Man’s
Land” to pick up the injured. There have been instances of where the
boys have done this sort of thing, but it is not a part of their
required work.
This branch of the service is done by the brancardier, or
stretcher-bearer. In most instances in the French Army this service
is made up of musicians. The injured are conveyed back through the
trenches and placed in the waiting cars, which take them to the rear.
The trips to the hospital with emergency cases are sometimes very
trying to a sensitive driver. A man on a stretcher, shot through the
abdomen and suffering unbearable agony, shouting “_tout doucement,
mon Dieu, tout doucement!_” (“Go slow, my God, go slow!”), while
another man, with both hands off at the wrist, and realizing that
only a quick trip can save his life, screams “_Viet, Conducteur,
viet_,” meaning “Fast, driver, fast,” will tax one’s powers and
sympathy to the limit. Another screams incoherently from sheer pain.
It is the desire, of course, for the man at the wheel to do each man’s
bidding, but, under such conditions, the pleadings of the unfortunate
must be disregarded. This might seem harsh, but when one realizes that
he is doing his very best, he becomes, after a while, hardened to the
work and automatically carries out his orders.
Each car, as it goes to the front for its twenty-four hours’ service,
is allotted food enough for the two men, which they cook on any such
improvised fireplace as conditions permit; but, of course, during any
extensive operation, food and sleep are two things that one learns to
do without.
It is necessary for all forms of motor vehicles in the zone of
the armies to be supplied with what is known as an _Ordre de
Mouvement_, which shows just which position of the front each
must occupy, and what towns and _Post du Succors_ each must
serve. No one is permitted on the road without this order, and, if
one is apprehended by a sentinel, the “order” must be produced for
identification. It’s a case of “show me” or “skedaddle” back for the
permit.
If he sees fit, the sentinel can send the driver to the rear under
guard. There is seldom any occasion for this procedure, because every
man knows it is necessary to have his order and would not think of
going up front without it.
During the day, when no runs are to be made, the time is spent at the
post, within easy calling distance in case of emergency. If one happens
to be stationed where the Boche is shelling, the time is spent in an
_abri_ or dug-out down underground, and, in all instances, men who
have gone through these bombardments are very glad that such places
exist.
In the cantonment the men held in reserve are required to make minor
repairs to their cars in order to insure their being able to depart
for the front at a moment’s notice. Otherwise, their time is their own
and can be spent as they like, provided it is known at the bureau where
they can be reached in the case of an emergency.
While traversing a road that is under shell fire, it is a very strict
regulation with the French Government that no car be permitted to stop
for any reason whatever as long as it is able to run under its own
power. Irrespective of the fact that it might not have a tire left this
regulation still holds good and the driver must proceed to a place of
safety before any consideration can be given to the matter of changing
tires or stopping for minor repairs.
Whenever a road is being shelled it generally gives the men on the car
something to think about, and only actual experience under such shell
fire enables them to become expert in their judgment as to slowing
down or shooting in the gas when this condition is met with. It is
not the most pleasant of experiences to be driving along and have a
shell break alongside of the road and cover everything with mud. But
all conditions are met in a more or less matter-of-fact way when one
is continually forced to accept them. Life seems a matter of fate and
little attention is paid to bursting shells.
As the cars are relieved at the front at the end of twenty-four hours’
service, they return to the base, making calls at the different
_Posts du Succor_ on the way back, picking up the _mallade_
(sick), for everyone carried in ambulances is not always wounded. With
large armies in the trenches there are a great many cases of sickness
that must be taken back to the hospitals in the rear for treatment.